Interview: Jay Farrar of Son Volt
by Will Harris
Once upon a time, there was a band called Uncle Tupelo that helped define the musical genre known as “Americana,” and if you disagree with this premise, the editors of No Depression would probably like to have a word with you. After four albums, Uncle Tupelo split, with its two predominant musical forces going in different directions: Jeff Tweedy went off to start a little group called Wilco, while Jay Farrar—who actually left first, just for the record—started his own band.
That band, of course, was Son Volt, and their debut album, Trace is celebrating its 20th anniversary this year. To commemorate the occasion, Farrar helped put together an expanded edition of the album, adding some heretofore—unheard demos as well as a previously—unreleased live album, plus he'll be doing some live dates designed to celebrate Trace. We hopped on the phone with Farrar to discuss all of these matters, and we also chatted a bit about the Uncle Tupelo era and the collaborative albums he's done over the past several years while also asking about the current status of Son Volt and the likelihood of any sort of reunion with the aforementioned Mr. Tweedy.
Rhino: So did it make you feel old when you realized Trace was hitting its 20th anniversary?
Jay Farrar: Uh… [Starts to laugh.] Everything makes me feel old these days! But it was good to listen back, you know? Especially digging through the demos and…just listening to Trace, which is not something I normally do. But it was good to go back and listen to it. I think the band sounds good and visceral. And experienced but not polished, which is the way a rock band should sound.
Do you know offhand the last time you actually sat down and gave it a good listen?
Um…good question. [Laughs.] It would've been years ago.
My understanding is that Son Volt more or less came into existence as a result of you and Eric Heywood and Jim Bolquist being on tour together during the Uncle Tupelo days.
Yeah, Eric Heywood was a pedal steel player, and he and Jim—who played bass—were both in Joe Henry's band, who was playing some dates with Uncle Tupelo. So when it came time to put a band together, I had spent time and seen the musical abilities of both Eric and Jim Bolquist, so I contacted them, and then Jim Bolquist mentioned his brother Dave being a multi—instrumentalist, and that kind of worked out well.
So what ultimately led you to leave Uncle Tupelo?
You know, Uncle Tupelo was Musical Education 101. It was an all—encompassing education of music and the music business, personalities and different ethos. It was just time to have a more focused approach, for me. In a lot of ways, I think those differing ethos sort of made things… [Starts to laugh.] Sometimes it was a hostile environment, I think. Directed at me, anyway. And I found a way out. Because Son Volt was a more focused musical project, you know? It was something that I wanted to experiment with, which is incorporating more of the instrumentation of classic country music, which meant pedal steel guitar, definitely, and pairing that with fiddle, which we did a fair amount of on Trace.
When you went into the studio, you obviously had certain things that you wanted to explore, but did you have hard and fast rules in terms of, “Okay, this is what we're definitely not going to do”?
Not really. It was a pretty wide open environment. I mean, I think the idea was to just see where it went, you know? I think I knew it would kind of vacillate between some of the more country and folk—oriented stuff and then there would always be the more rock—oriented stuff, which—listening to some of it—I hear even micro-elements of bands that maybe some people wouldn't expect, like Sonic Youth or Dinosaur Jr.
You know, there was a shared sensibility amongst everyone in the band. Son Volt is kind of a distillation of elements of American music, which we all had a background in, and it was paired with a nod of inspiration toward British bands like Faces and the Rolling Stones, because we all had an interest in those sounds as well.
Son Volt do a cover of Faces' “Mystifies Me” as the final track on Trace. Was that something you recorded early on as a way to use those mutual interests to cement the musical bond between you?
We essentially did that song just as a way to finish it up and relax after finishing all the other songs on Trace. We brought some extra guys in—Marc Perlman from the Jayhawks played bass, and we brought in a guy to play accordion—so basically it was more of a party atmosphere. [Laughs.] Originally the intent was not to put it on the record, but we liked it enough to put it on there.
When you went back and listened to Trace more recently, did you find anything that didn't age well for you, or anything where you preferred a demo to the finished product?
I think overall it just seemed like the demos added something to the reissue. I don't necessarily prefer one over the other. The demos provide contrast to the studio versions, and you can see the development of the songs from the demo stage to the studio version. The demos were definitely a new experience for me. I'd never worked with any kind of engineer before, so I was using a 4-track and also experimenting with bee-bender, which you hear on songs like “Windfall” and “Out of the Picture.” On the demos, that's the bee—bender guitar which approximates the sound of a pedal steel guitar.
The bonus material consists of plenty of demos, but there are no actual previously-unreleased songs. Did you record anything beyond what actually appeared on the album?
Not different songs, but there are some studio demos of at least three songs—“Windfall,” “Tear Stained Eye,” and “Route”—that we recorded at a studio in Minneapolis. Well, outside of Minneapolis. Those will probably see the light of day somewhere.
You're going to be doing a tour to celebrate the anniversary of the album. Did that require any arm-wisting, or are you happy to go back and revisit the material this way?
I'm happy to go out. I mean, I wanted to commemorate the 20th anniversary of Trace, and I thought the best way to do that would be present these songs in an elemental way. You know, boiled down to their essence. For now, anyway. That means reuniting with Eric Heywood on pedal steel and continuing to work with Gary on fiddle, electric guitar, and mandolin…and he also plays steel guitar! So we've sort of reinvented a couple of these songs. There's dual steel guitar on some of these songs when we play them live.
Son Volt's been a going concern at least as recently as 2013, studio-wise. Are there any talks to revive the band for any future albums at this point?
Well, I've started writing quite a few songs—about 10 or 12—which I think would fit in the Son Volt framework, so I'm continuing to see where those go. But, yeah, there's a real possibility of doing something with Son Volt next year.
How was it working on the collaborative albums you did a few years ago? You did one with Ben Gibbard using Jack Kerouac lyrics, and then you did another one a few years later using Woody Guthrie lyrics.
In the case with both of those projects, I really embraced the idea of being able to step aside and be inspired by those other artists, both the guys I was collaborating with and—primarily—Jack Kerouac and Woody Guthrie. It was liberating for me, I think, to step aside and not be self—conscious about it at all, working in that way with the work of those iconic artists. But it was also great to collaborate with Ben Gibbard, and with Yim Yames, Will Johnson, and Anders Parker on the Woody Guthrie album.
How did One Fast Move Or I'm Gone in particular come about? Did someone pitch you the idea?
Yes, he was a descendant of a personal friend of Jack Kerouac, so he approached both Ben and I, and we were both huge Jack Kerouac fans, so we both decided to participate. And that's how we met each other. And there were cameras rolling, too, so it was quite an adventure. [Laughs.] Thankfully, we hit it off well!
When you look back at Son Volt's discography, is there an album that you consider underrated, or one that you felt like deserved more appreciation?
I don't know that any one particular Son Volt album leaps out at me. I could probably pick a solo album that might fit that description.
Oh, feel free.
Exactly: that's the first song on the album. [Laughs.] Sepastopol. It came out on September 7, 2001. No one was really in the mood to hear music. But we are reissuing that on vinyl, for release next year. I think we're going to put some extra songs on it.
You revisited Trace recently, but have you ever revisited The Plebes, your first band? Or is there even anything to revisit? Did you guys ever actually record anything?
The Plebes… [Starts to laugh.] That was my band with my brothers. Um…we did not really make it to any professional studio, no. There's probably a fair amount of cassette tapes somewhere, buried in a box. But that's jogging my memory, so maybe I'll look around for some of those!
So when was the first time you were in a professional studio? Was it as a member of Uncle Tupelo? Or were you still calling yourselves The Primitives at that point?
That would've been probably '86 or '87, and I think we may have gone into the studio as The Primitives but came out as Uncle Tupelo.
You guys started out doing cover songs and then ended up writing originals. Was there some transcendent moment when you decided, “This is what we must do”?
I think it just seemed we'd found all this inspiration, from the Beatles or Bob Dylan or whoever, and it trickled down through the decades and a myriad of other bands, and it just seemed like—without talking about it—that was the thing to do: write our own music.
You mentioned that it was Musical Education 101. Did you learn anything from opening from Johnny Thunders?
[Laughs.] I don't know that I learned anything specifically. You know, it was just another one of those notches in your belt, I guess, as far as the overall collective experience.
Was there any artist that you guys got teamed up with in those early days that made you do a double take, going, “How did we even end up here?”
Well, Johnny Thunders would count. [Laughs.] I guess the one thing I took away from that show was that he was probably a little more flamboyant than the aesthetic that we were shooting for at that time. But we did have the opportunity to play with Johnny Cash once, and that was huge. Even at… [Hesitates.] I guess the time frame would've been '92, but even at that time, there was still a lot of Johnny Cash magnetism. People were rushing the stage, trying to shake his hand. It was something to watch, for sure.
Did you have any interaction with him offstage?
Yeah, June Carter was extremely friendly, and she introduced us to Johnny, which was great.
When you look back at the Uncle Tupelo recordings, do you have a particular favorite?
I think in a lot of ways... There's an instrumental called “Sandusky” that I think probably—definitely—I would cite. And that was a song that was just kind of written in the studio, it's an instrumental, but I think that reflects the best of what Uncle Tupelo was all about.
So do you and your former cohort, Mr. Tweedy, have any contact?
Not really. We don't really travel in the same circles. We've talked a couple of times over the years, but…it's been quite awhile.
In a piece for the Onion A.V. Club, one of my other outlets, we included Uncle Tupelo on a list of bands that aren't likely to ever reunite. Would you concur?
Yeah, well, there's certainly no talk of that. [Laughs.]
Do you think it would even be possible, given that—as you said—you move in different circles?
Yeah, it's…not even really worth commenting on, I don't think.
Fair enough. As far as looking back at Trace, do you have a particular favorite track on the album? Clichéd question though it may be, I thought maybe there might be a track that stands out to you that wouldn't necessarily be an obvious pick.
Yeah, I think “Ten Second News” sort of represents that. It was almost like an accidental song, really. It was one of the last songs we recorded, and it wasn't completely written before we got there. I finished it up in the hours after recording the other songs. And I can hear that it's got the sort of new energy to it that maybe some of the other songs don't, because we recorded them once or twice before. So, yeah, that one stands out to me. It's got a fresh energy to it that makes it stand out in my mind.
When you do this tour, are you planning to delve into material from Straightaways, Wide Swing Tremelo, and other Son Volt albums, or will you just stick to Trace in the main set and then just kind of play it by ear for the encore?
I think we're kind of mixing it up and at least pulling a few songs from most of the other Son Volt records. We'll be doing all the songs of Trace, and then we'll be pulling songs from various Son Volt records and also pulling songs from various solo records. So it's quite a mix.
Lastly, is it ever surreal to realize that you're kind of a poster boy for Americana, as it were?
Is that… Is that true? [Laughs.]
I mean, I'm not the arbiter of that sort of thing, but I feel like it is. Certainly Son Volt and Uncle Tupelo are both held up as key entrants in the world of Americana.
Wow. Uh, yeah, that's not something I would think about in those specific terms. But, well, certainly with Uncle Tupelo we felt like we were putting our own stamp on things. Ultimately it's all more of a musical continuum. People say, “This started here, this started there,” but ultimately it's just musical ideas passing through from one artist to another.
I wasn't trying to blow your mind in the final moments of our conversation. Sorry about that.
Oh, no. No issues. [Laughs.] People always save the most mind—blowing questions for last!
