Brendan Benson - London, UK, Spring 2003
By: Toby L
'We've had a good response, overall, in England to 'Lapalco',' drawls Brendan Benson, sat upon a sofa in one of his UK record-label's offices. 'Which I wasn't expecting, because Virgin in this country didn't want to deal with my first record; they came right out and said, 'We don't like it.' So I didn't expect that anyone over here would like this one...' He pauses, grinning satisfactorily. 'But it's been nice to see a change of attitude.'
In spite of the positive nature of such an opening in conversation, Benson is in hardly way a clean and calculated state. Today hungover, following a previous night's undisclosed antics, a so-reputably merry and humbled demeanour is beyond him this afternoon, and Brendan is in no mood to pussy-foot around difficult matters.
'I was pissed at first,' he soon rages, recalling the lack of industry prioritising of his debut album of the 90s, 'One Mississippi', a largely-overlooked, now-cult LP. 'And I had it out with one guy in Tokyo who was from the record-company, just drilling him as to why they weren't going to push my first album; he was saying idiotic things like, 'It was over-produced, it's not the sort of thing people would go for in England,' and - you know, whatever... What makes them qualified to...'
He trails off. Yet soon reignites himself, almost as if by an immediate surge of internal bodily venom hitting his blood-stream at full-pelt.
'Over-produced?! It was a tiny-sounding record, you know? He must have been out of his mind... And he obviously hadn't even heard the record...
'I'm doing this all myself,' he continues, commenting on the songwriting-construction process, adding admirably, 'and I don't even know what the hell I'm doing. There's no way it can be over-produced - there's no producer, for one! I don't even know what we're talking about here with 'over-produced'... Contrived..? Over-thought..? Recorded very well..? Sounding big?
'I do it all myself in the studio, so there's no way to do it live at the time. But, yeah, I like all the mistakes that come with the process; my favourite records have loads of mistakes in them, and weird things, and they're not very professional-sounding. That's what I'm going for, I guess...'
And this is why Brendan Benson has been in the much-dreaded 'alternative-mainstream crossover-conflict' for some time. A true artist in every sense, there's both a definite and indefinite quality to his work: a general talent that's able to compile such heart-racing, melodious matter as 'Life In The D' or up-tempo signature-tune 'Good To Me' (as covered frequently onstage by back-slapping friend and muso-partner, Jack White), whilst - almost paradoxically - acting as a character that never really seems able to comfortably define their own work. But there's something for certain with BB - an apparent acknowledgment and confidence of his abilities, yet one that doesn't border too drastically on the cards of yawn-worthy self-indulgence.
Musically, songs plaintively stroll in a key set to 'beguile', all tales of romance, broken intimacy and an endearing frequency of material both warm, if singularly subject inclined. It's thus such focus and gentle depth, and a rich, beautifully harmonised voice to accompany the themes that result in one of last year's most recognisably brilliant records - the aforementioned 'Lapalco', the produce of someone altogether more cohesive and contained than many present performers.
So, of course, when addressing his current market-place, Benson needs to concentrate. 'There's a lot going on, but there are two things which are kinda different - one thing is garage-rock, where it's lower fi., and it's only huge-sounding sonically, as it's simply recorded. Aside from that, there's then groups such as, er, Radiohead, where everything is so epic - where it's like, 'This is the last song in the world ever that will be played...' My record would not fair well after one of those tracks... But those are two types of sounds I really like.
'It seems that English music, the popular acts such as Stereophonics and stuff like that, they're going for that epic edge, and I think that's great, but I can also appreciate just one guy sitting alone with a guitar, hitting away and occasionally getting bad notes. It's cool right now that these two styles are co-existing - if we were to name names, that an act such as The White Stripes can still be treated in the same light as someone such as, erm, I don't know... Moby. Not that I know much about Moby...'
His visible stumbling around for name-checks to contemporary artists, in order to illustrate view-points, seemingly represents a lack of true knowledge of current alt-acts...
'Yeah, I'm kind of not up-to-date,' he grins. 'It's different on tour, though - I'm finding out more as it goes along. Usually, I'm just at home, working in my studio, and I don't go out much either, so I don't really see people, and lose track of things. I definitely don't make a point out of researching new music, or making it my business to know what's going on with the kids. I'm doing what I like doing. But, sometimes, maybe I could stand to hear some new music, because I'm still listening to the same records I've heard for years, and they're older ones, too... But I've discovered that my new favourite is Calexico; I love their newest record. I met some girl and she told me about this band... They're awesome.'
So does Brendan consider himself in a similar league to his publicly-announced new musical love - that is to say, a distinctively album-based artist, as opposed to a weekly hit-parade botherer?
'I do like that,' he confesses, going on, 'I look for that in another artist - like the Calexico record, for example; I have an I-Pod, where you can shuffle all the songs you have stored on there and listen to whatever, but - with that band - I find myself listening to their record in its entirety. Those are the kind of records that are my favourites... I don't know if mine works in that way... All the tracks have spanned a long period, so it's hard for me to say if it flows...'
Surely the lyrics pay a substantial factor in creating a track-by-track coherence?
'There was a record recently where I really considered it,' he ponders, dodging eye-contact to try and muse further. 'It sounded so good, but the lyrics...
'With my music, it's a half and half process, where half of the tracks mean a lot, and mean something important to me. And then, others, I just think, 'Well, this rhymes!' But one of those types of tracks is my favourite - 'You're Quiet' - because it's super-simple... I was embarrassed at first, and almost didn't want to put it on the record as it is so simple, but I actually do like the lyrics now... You can read into them a little more; they're not very specific. And then there's a song such as 'Jetlag', which I took the time to write the lyrics for. Something has to ring true for me in my songs, or someone else's, and it could be just one line - and, as long as that happens, I can get behind it.'
Sometimes for Benson, getting 'behind' work is not just a solo-endeavour. His backing/touring band The Wellfed Boys mark a group-dynamic, even though they involve little in the initial songwriting process; how does it therefore vary either performing collectively or working alone?
'There are many benefits and downfalls to each,' Brendan exhales. 'One of the major benefits for me of playing with a band, is hearing other people's interpretations of certain material, their attempt at it. I think some of the most exciting moments in music are when someone goes for something, but doesn't quite get it, and then that in itself is more unique.
'But, on the other end of the spectrum, on the same note, there are times where I really want them to get it and play the exact same style as the idea when it was first spawned. You could see it as, 'This is great - this is one person's idea on something,' or you could feel, 'This is the way it should be, f**k, they don't get it...'
'Live, it's a lot more rock, more energetic and - sometimes - it's simpler, which is good, because you can receive it quicker,' he progresses. 'But sometimes that can be a little boring because of its simplicity. These guys (The Wellfed Boys) play them better than I could, just because of their background... they come from louder bands... It's harder to play the mellower stuff and make it work.
'We went out with The Flaming Lips, and felt that we had to somehow pick it up a bit... like have naked girls onstage or something! When we were with Beth Orton, though, we felt we should chill it out a bit... So maybe via the headline-shows, we'll do both, which will be good, I think. I'll also be doing some songs acoustically, which is new for me, but I think it's working.'
In spite of a team-like infrastructure within the unit, does Benson himself gain any nerves prior to a live-appearance?
'Yeah... I didn't always, but - now, especially doing these acoustic songs - it's all eyes on me... At least with the band, those guys are jumping up and down and shit, which is cool... Leaving me to be just afraid, not minding, just as long as it all looks good... Haha, nah, I'm not too afraid...'
Do you consider yourself a touring-personality; many solo-musicians are reputably inclined towards studio-work.
'And that's me,' he confesses. 'But not so much anymore... I think I'm finding a new appreciation for playing live, as I'm really starting to like it a lot, and I reckon I could keep going... Although I would like a break.'
Fair comments for a man that hasn't seen beyond the reflection in a hotel-mirror or the turning wheels of a tour-bus in months, following heavy publicity for his latest recorded achievement. Somehow, though - much like the indefinite conflict highlighted previously - in spite of reservations, you guess that he wouldn't have it any other way.
'Since we've toured so much,' opens Brendan on the prospects of future work, 'I might consider how it would come across live more when I'm writing next time, which I never ever would think about before; I'd just go searching for a pump-organ to play, or any cool bunch of instruments. I'll still do that, but maybe I'll also consider how it could be arranged and be played in front of people... I'm not really aware of the whole process, though - it's me, so I can't really say how much more I'll be different.'
And to anyone still not sure yet - what is the truth of Brendan Benson?
'I really don't like being called a 'singer-songwriter',' he wretches, conclusively. 'I do it myself, but I really try to create a band-feeling - I've always liked that, and there aren't too many 'singer-songwriters' that I do like.
'But I think that's just what I'd like people to understand - that the record, if it didn't say 'Brendan Benson' on the cover, it could be passed off quite easily as something recorded by four or five people.
'That's it, really.'
Artists in this article: Brendan Benson