A cool thing happens when you get to have a conversation with someone who was the architect of a lot of the music that cradled you in its arms and carried you through hard times: you get really fucking emotional, and act super weird. So hats off to Lou Barlow, of Sebadoh and also a little band called Dinosaur Jr., for not just getting up and walking away in the middle of this interview as the interviewer (me) was being such a fucking weirdo the whole time. In my defense, I didn’t actually cry (until afterwards), and to my consolation, Mr. Barlow inserted almost as many “I means” and nervous laughs and I did.
Thankfully for weepy Sebadoh fans around the world, the band has pretty much been steadily touring for the last ten years, but the last time they released a new album was around the same time that Britney Spears was introduced to the world. That is, until last year, when the band released Defend Yourself, a study of what happens when angst grows up. The record still has the trademark Sebadoh sulk, but that sulk has matured like a fine wine (albeit a fine wine that still makes you sad drunk).
Read my appropriately awkward interview below:
What kind of mood are we in? Are we in fun interview mode, or are we kind of in serious question mode? Because personally, I currently feel a bit cry-y, which might inform this whole interview.
Lou: Cry-y?
Yes.
Lou: Serious mode then.
But really it’s more important what mood you’re in.
Lou: I don’t know what mood I’m in right now.
Okay then. Hello Lou.
Lou: Hi.
First question. Tell me a little about your new project Tres Padres.
Lou: Tres Padres. Um well that’s Imaad Wasif, Dale Crover (of The Melvins), and myself. We had been kind of looking for an excuse to write some songs and record together, and a friend of mine asked me to do a 7 inch for a benefit that he runs for widows called the…what’s it called? I can’t remember. Anyway, he had friends in high places I guess, because somehow we got studio time at the 606 Studios which is where the Foo Foo Fighters do their…whatever. It’s where they have their big board. So we went out to the valley, and had two days, and it happened to be on Father’s Day when we recorded. Imad’s wife was due to go into labor to deliver his first child, but that didn’t happen, so he was able to come in and record. Because otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to do it. So it happened on Father’s Day so I just thought it would be funny if we called it Three Fathers or Tres Padres. I guess there’s a new Melvins thing called Tres Idiots or something. So it was sort of a coincidence I guess that we used that name too.
Okay that was my ice breaker question courtesy of Dale Crover via my pal Shannon Cornett. Next question is a serious one, so that if I cry it won’t be weird. I was reading a bunch of reviews during my diligent research and a lot of people say on the Interweb that much of your best work seems to follow break-ups, or general heartache or turmoil. Do you feel that’s true?
Lou: (Laughs) Uh…no. I don’t know. The record that people like the most that I’ve done, Bakesale, was done at a pretty “up” period in my life. I guess some of the songs are post-break up songs…I don’t know. I mean, I guess for me, to be perfectly honest, I was in LA for 17 years and…it was hard. I had a lot of hard times (laughs). So most of the songs I wrote came out of really just trying to hold on, you know? So I agree, yes, but then in another way, I don’t know when I’m not in turmoil in some way (laughs).
Yeah I feel like that’s an easy simplification in music journalism. This music is sad, it must have come from sad times, thusly it is best when someone is sad when they write music. That might be genre-specific, I don’t know how often turmoil is celebrated in the writing of pop music.
Lou: Yeah.
Okay, so your lyrics are quite intense and personal and honest. How hard is it to go on stage where a bunch of people are staring at you with their eyeballs and you have to sort of go and tell them all your problems via song.
Lou: I don’t really feel like I’m doing that actually, no matter how personal it is. I mean, I think the way I write is so general that I don’t personally think…
So you don’t feel exposed?
Lou: No. I mean there’s some songs that I could do that would make me feel exposed, but I don’t do those songs. They’re generally sexual songs or stuff like that. They can make people really…put people really on the spot. But I don’t do that generally. I think the songs I sing are like, really general.
Well they’re definitely universally applicable in a lot of ways, which is why THIS GUY (me) is a big fan, because while we probably didn’t experience the same exact sadnesses, I can still listen to your songs and be like “oh yeah, I feel that, man.”
Lou: I mean I feel like I write the way people write country songs. And nobody ever asked, I mean I’m sure they did actually, nevermind. To me, after 2000, how personally lyrics really became then, sort of post-Sebadoh, like the Bright Eyes and the Death Cab For Cuties, that’s to me far more…even Neutral Milk Hotel. You’re like wow, okay that’s personal. To me, my shit is so fucking general. Not even like metaphors. I’m not even that fancy. I write stuff so it can be transposed, you know?
But it does come from a very personal place.
Lou: Oh sure, it has to for me to be able to remember the lyrics, there has to be a logic to it. And generally that logic comes from something that has literally occurred to me.
Do you ever feel like when you’re performing say songs that are from a different time and a different emotional state that you were in, does it bring back that emotional state? Or are you completely disconnected from that time?
Lou: I don’t know. I guess even if it does bring it back, to me I always put nuggets of hope within my songs. People will be like “Oh, so sad” and I say “I don’t think so actually. Sorry!” I actually think almost anything that I write, especially songs that I do repeatedly live, those things have always got, for me anyway, some kind of hope. I’m always bewildered when people try to paint it that it’s all so dark. I don’t really hear that myself. I certainly didn’t write it that way.
In the reviews of your most recent album, people seem to keep repeating the idea that is a happier Sebadoh record, maybe because it’s just stylistically a bit different. Do you feel people tend to confuse that? A slight genre shift with an actual shift in the songwriter’s emotional state?
Lou: I don’t know…to me even just making a song is a victorious act , you know? Like, wow just finishing something is such an incredible…it’s joyous. Finishing a record for me is like the greatest feeling in the world. One of them anyway. It’s funny because I kind of thought this new record was pretty dark actually. When I finished it, I was like “Yeah, sounds like we’re still in transition here.” All these Sebadoh records…Jason and I have been the primary songwriters for the last three or four records, so it seems like we’re definitely still in transition. Seems like we haven’t really settled too much actually. And this record, especially just like the title, and what was actually happening as we were finishing the record, was pretty brutal, really. But I mean, not to contradict myself as to what I was saying before, regarding hope and stuff, but I think overall the record was pretty…you know, it’s a Sebadoh record (laughs).
Why did it take over ten years for you to release an album?
Lou: We just didn’t have any reason to record really. We still didn’t really have any reason to record (laughs). I think the only reason to record was one that we came up with, let’s have some new songs to play live. Because we’re playing live anyway, and it doesn’t seem like we’re ever going to stop doing that, so why don’t we make a new record and make some new songs to play.
Change up the set a little.
Lou: Change up the set a little, exactly. So, you know, we did it very cheap I would say. We’re extremely cheap, as a band (laughs). Especially from our experience in the past, you know I’m never going to owe a record company money again. I mean, I still owe a record company thousands and thousands of dollars, and I’m not going to do that anymore. So we just made it cheap and quick and it just to give us something new to chew on at the shows. Just keep it going. We did that for ourselves, we didn’t really ask anybody’s permission to do it. We didn’t think “Gee does the world really want a new Sebadoh record?” Who cares!
So you do have new songs to play, but you do still play old songs. And you have been nonstop touring for a longtime. How does it feel playing songs you wrote twenty or so years ago now? Did you ever imagine when you wrote those songs you would be performing them two decades later?
Lou: I don’t know if I ever thought about whether I would or not. It makes sense to me. There’s plenty of other people who aren’t that great still playing their songs, why can’t I? (Laughs). It’s pretty…I don’t know, I’m fortunate that I’ve been able to have bands that when we did rise to prominence, or when we did have our little moments, we were able to string a few fans along who are still around, and that’s a very lucky thing to have. And I know as a fan that if I go see a band that’s recorded a bunch of shit 25 years ago, I want to hear some of the shit they recorded 25 years ago! You know, they can throw some new songs in there, that’s okay, usually not a great thing but I can deal with that, as a fan. So for me playing old songs, I actually feel the fact is, when you’re 24 or 25 years old, and you write your first really good songs, those are usually actually really good songs. And when you go, those might still be the best songs you ever wrote. Is that depressing? Not really.
It’s awesome.
Lou: It is kind of awesome. I play in a couple of bands now, I play in Dinosaur Jr, and this band, and we have our little legacies, and playing old songs is great.
Good. Please always keep doing that. In fact, if Sentridoh comes back around, that’s also perfectly fine with me, if you want to do that.
Lou: Totally.
Okay this is one of my last questions. In my deep internet research I dug up a 2002 interview you did where it sounded like you were pretty much like “Sebadoh’s over.” The writer was like “Okay what’s going on with Sebadoh? “ and you were like “Yeah maybe we will reunite for an ‘Uncles of Indie Rock’ tour.” Is that this tour, you and Thurston Moore?
Lou: (Laughs). That sounds about right. I mean, we did our first reunion shows in 2004, Jason and I, so it didn’t take very long. All it took was Domino Records are European record label, you know the first Domino 001 or whatever was a Sebadoh record, so when they did their whatever it was, 10, 15 year anniversary, they said “Hey can you guys come over and play?” and we were like “Okay” and that was it. Then we never stopped. All it took was one person to ask us, then we never stopped (laughs). Do people really want to see us play? Is there any demand for it?
You know the answer to that. You’ve been on tour this whole time, people are always at the shows in great numbers.
Lou: People come, yes. It’s not a phenomenon by any stretch, but it’s happening. 2002, that would have been when I was doing Folk Implosion, the last dregs of folk Implosion came together, which I thought was actually really good too…
Same.
Lou: But yeah, there was a brief period where it seemed like Sebadoh maybe wouldn’t happen again, but like I said, all it took was one person asking. And here we are.
Here you are, Uncles of Indie rock tour. Speaking of, are there any bands you wish would reunite? As a fan?
Lou: Huh. Wow. Ride would be great. Mark Gardner actually opened the show last night. It was cool, Mark Gardner from Ride, Deb from My Bloody Valentine, Thurston, it was kind of a funny night. Ride was a cool band, I wouldn’t mind seeing them play. There’s probably a really good answer for this question but I can’t think of it.
That’s fair. Last question. Any current bands you’re really into? That you’re bumping in the tour van/bus/headphones whatever?
Lou: Right now isn’t the greatest period for that for me, as I’m about ready to move across the country, so most of my conversations are spent talking to an accountant or a realtor. Which is fucking…crazy. I moved my kids back east before I went…but anyway that’s neither here nor there. I guess this band isn’t new, and I don’t even know if they’re cool or not, but the first time I heard them was on KXLU. There was a period where I listened to KXLU all the time, because it’s the best. Great station. But I haven’t lately. Anyway there’s one band I did hear on KXLU, and I don’t know if they’re supposed to be cool or if people like them, but I know they’ve been around for a little while. They sound almost like if Ryan Adams decided to be in Animal Collective. They’re called Lord Huron. I got their first EP and I liked it. Recently I bought their full length record, and it’s really a very relaxing record. It sounds kind of like hipster music, but it’s got some nice twangs in it, and I just don’t know where they come from or who like them, but I like them. I like a lot of garage stuff, Thee Oh Sees, King Tuff, all that stuff. It’s great. There’s probably a lot of bands that are like that right now that I don’t know about but I would probably like.
Last thing. Seriously, please do Sentridoh again, and thank you for all the music!
Lou: You’re welcome.
You can find Lou Barlow on Twitter, playing Fun Fun Fun fest tonight with Dinosaur Jr, and trying to forget this interview ever happened, probably.