Talking Shop: David Poe Interviews Gary Louris about Songwriting
Having spent darn near a decade chasing my own songwriter dream, one of the great glories of my current way of life is that I get to spend time on the phone and in person with countless fiercely talented songwriters, talking about what makes music good, why music matters, and occasionally even the nitty-gritty “nuts and bolts” (as David Poe called it, below) about the experience of writing a song.
So, it was with great enthusiasm that I recently hopped on the phone in fly-on-the-wall mode to listen to New York-based singer-songwriter David Poe interview his friend — writer, producer, Jayhawk extraordinaire Gary Louris. Poe and Louris go way back. Over the course of about a decade and a half, Poe traveled the world as the opening act for the Jayhawks, and the two men discovered a shared love of boots, among many other things.
Poe has a new album out called God & the Girl, snippets of which can be streamed on his website. Its songs are equal parts Elliott Smith and John Gorka, if such a thing could be imagined. Indeed, both Smith and Gorka are writers who have been praised by other writers for their command of, well, writing. Whether or not their songs always hit exactly where listeners want them to, is another matter. But, every songwriter worth their salt is striving for the kind of balanced poetry and simplicity that Poe seems to just pour out.
In fact, it’s so natural, you could almost say it’s akin to the work of Gary Louris, though Louris’s music with the Jayhawks tends to be a little less downtrodden. As I sat and listened to Poe pick Louris’s brain about how to make songs happen, how to pull the music out from deep inside — or, more often, more practically, how to generate enough energy and activity that music might just begin to emerge on its own — it occurred to me that the spirit we’ve all heard in those Jayhawks records has risen from Louris’s almost obsessive embrace of creative possibility. Indeed, there is something that can come from setting two friends — and songwriters — loose in a conversation that can take the discussion to places a standard Q&A could never go.
So, what follows is a transcript of the first half-hour of that conversation. I’ll share Part II in the days ahead:
David Poe: I was thinking we could focus on songwriting and specifically process. I’d like you to describe your process in the nuts and bolts. Do you write every day, do you write on the go?
Gary Louris: Well, this is one of my favorite subjects to talk about. The process is really interesting… as I told you, I’m trying to put it into words so that I can talk to other people about it because it’s only in that way that it becomes more concise. It’s when you play a song to somebody else that it becomes clear whether you can carry it around with you. As soon as it leaves my lips, I immediately [am afraid] that it sucks. Sometimes you’re afraid to record it because that’s when reality strikes, good or bad. For me, lately, it changes over time… beacuse as you do it for a longer period of time, you tend to have done a lot of things. You tend to reinvent yourself in a way that’s true, but [you do that] so you’re not repeating yourself over and over again. You have these grooves that you ingrain in your brain, that you naturally go down. After a while, you tend to get bored. What happens with the songwriter, they have to keep themselves interested or it becomes a chore.
I always write in stream of consciousness. I try to sneak in the back door. I’m always trying to avoid the conscious brain. That’s where I find myself hitting the shade — when I’m writing to the rhyme or I’m trying to try, trying to write. There’s a Zen approach of trying not to try, trying to find what’s going on underneath the surface. That’s why I say sometimes I try to write in my sleep, in a way. I try to write the first thing that comes out of my mouth. It may suck but it’ll lead to another thing. With the voice recorder I have on my phone, which I have [with me] always… usually I’ll go to an instrument, like a guitar, and I’ll say I’m going to play whatever comes out of my hands, so I find myself thinking about it.
I love the idea of trying not to try.
Well, I’ve been … way back, I was reading this book called The Inner Game of Tennis. The guy went on to write The Inner Game of Golf and The Inner Game of Music, which is… more for classical musicians. But, it’s all about the inner self. There’s the “self one” and the “self two.” The “self one” is the voice that’s going, “Okay, now, we need a line that rhymes with…” It’s like, “Okay, you’re going to hit that overhand over that backhand, and don’t hit it like you did last time…” [Meanwhile,] your inner true “self two” is your innate self, your unconscious self, which will most likely hit the ball correctly or write a better rhyme, so you have to tap into that.
A lot of what I write, I’m trying to avoid the conscious mind. At some point, I have to roll up my sleeves and craft it. But for initial ideas, I have to try – not to try… that word keeps coming up. But, it’s good to have a little something in the back of your head. If you’re in that mode, thinking like a songwriter, you’ll have these tlittle things in the back of your head.
The words come at the same time for me, as the music. I’ll start singing whatever comes out of my brain. I’ll define what I think I hear. That’s a typical way for me to start, and I have these [voice] memos. I’ll go back and listen to them in a space and find if something stirs me or sticks in my head, and then I’ll go back to it… That is typically how I write.
I do the lyrics. I steal things from books that I feel might be a phrase… I do a lot of clipping and cut-and-paste. I cut things out of magazines or write down a phrase that’s interesting to me. Sometimes The New York Times Book Review… I steal titles of books.
This is all when I don’t have something I need to say. If I have something I need to say that’s always preferable. But I’m talking about ways to get started.
Then I start twisting it and I don’t know what it’s about exactly, unless I’m writing a love song. I’ll make it more poetic or [add] more imagery, or add a little more space between the lines. I could go on and on.
Yeah but it’s interesting stuff. I’ve heard differnet songwriters talk about channeling things or having something get beamed in. So, it’s almost like a religious thing. What you’re saying is that you relish the moments of inspiration, things that come from the unconscious mind, things that come forom the eight-minute-long mumbled voice memo. Then you exhume the best parts from the stuff that stays with you later on. So, let me ask you this: when you’re talking little things or making pre-demo things, how much do you reember and how much do you rely on the recording to remember it for you?
You’re talking about when I’m taking it to the next step of making a demo?
No, more like the first thing that becomes the premise of the song.
I remember almost every idea I’ve had, good or bad. I know that’s weird, but it’s true. It keeps coming back. I think the initial idea is best when I hit on a decent idea. I find laboring over it is not good for me to do. I can listen on a tape and tell when I hit that zone. I’m on it. I’m on the train and I control the music.
I’m not sure what you’re asking exactly.
I find myself doing a little rambling. At this point, I have 5,000 notes on paper or on my phone or laptop, or whatever. I’ll surprise myself sometimes because I’ll go back and go – oh yeah, that. What was that about? There’s a fair amount of stuff I forget. But I love that you’re saying you remember almost everything.
I don’t forget. It’s not like I’m a genius or anything, I just happen to remember everything I’ve ever done. I don’t know why, but… I used to do that thing where I stockpile ideas. It’s always exciting to come up with a new idea without finishing an old one. It could be great as long as it’s unfinished and new, but once you start working on it, crafting it, it becomes not so good.
For me, it was a way of putting off disappointment. I’d think more things and wind up with 100 things I wanted to write. Then it’s like, where do I begin? I’ve gotten much better about cataloging everything. Now I’m good about staying current and not letting things go too long without addressing them, so I don’t lose the thread. But I find that time is a big thing. If I give it time, I’ll assemble a lot of things.
Then I zoom in. I tighten things and I get more and more specific. I’m not one of those guys who has a new song that he’s going to work on for days. It’s not like, “This is my song for right now.” I can’t do that, because then I become self-conscious. The cream rises to the top for me. Things stick with me until I feel like I’m going to demo it. I start really working on it and re-writing my lyrics, but when I start to get that crazy feeling, [I know] this isn’t going to work out.
It’s much easier to have an idea and finish it — or at least think you finished it — within one sitting, then to leave it laying around for years and years.
I have never ever finished a song in one sitting. That’s why a collaborator is good for me. Otherwise I just won’t finish it. And I don’t know if I always trust my judgment — if I really love it right in that moment, [I don’t know] if I’m going to love it in a few days. I have too much reinforcement in my own brain. It’s a little bit of laziness and procrastination too, that I can’t sit and finish a song in one sitting. Do you do that a lot?
Well, in my most recent project – this is a practical matter – I kind of had daily deadlines. Weekly deadlines, was more like it. I was working with this guy Calvin who made a studio available for me. Every few days he’d call me and ask, “What have you got?” And I’d [say], “I have these one, two, or three things and I want to get them down as quickly as I can.” I was also in an environment where I wasn’t bothered by very many things. I was in the middle of nowhere, not many people around. I developed the process, which I try to stick with, which is basically, for me, it’s very practical stuff. The process is boring.
Not for me. I’m always interested – I read books about people’s processes, whether there are rituals or stuff.
My thing is,…
Do you do an air bath every morning like Benjamin franklin? Doing an air bath, meaning he sits around naked?
Yeah, I sit around naked. Yeah, naked air baths. You know one thing I do find that I do, I get up and get to it, and I’m done by midday, mid afternoon. I wake up, I smile as soon as I wake up, try to get in a good mood immediately. Then I jump out of bed and drink a pint of water, because it wakes me up better than coffee. Number three, I make coffee. Fourth, I go to a private place, usually outside, with a guitar, a legal pad, and a pencil.
It’s gotta be a legal pad.
Because I’ve got thtose things all over my house.
I’m just learning how to categorize them.
I stay as long as I can, then I get to the idea, and it’s great when you get on fire. For me, when something’s coming very quickly, that’s exciting to me. Then there’s a stop. Usually I have to stop and [say], “Wait, that’s not what I mean,” or “That’s a good line, but that’s another song.” I’ll realize I’m actualy writing two songs. I’ll get to verse 17 and think wait, this is two or three different ideas. I try to keep it simple that way. I finish to the point where – and maybe this is that “trying not to try” thing – I think that I’m finished, where I have three verses and a chorus and maybe a bridge that are good. Then I go back and edit, because writing is rewriting for me.
How quickly do you start recording into ProTools or a voice memo?
I’ll put something down just so that I can remember. I’ll put it down so I can remember and then that part of my brain is freed up and I don’t have to remember. If I change it or change the phrasing, hopefully I change it for the better, but then I can go back to my ten-second track and be like, oh no, that was cooler. Especially with guitar stuff. Sometimes I’ll forget, or I’ll realize in the middle of it that I switched the cadence from 3/4 to 4/4.
Lately, I’ve been doing this thing where I do the voice memo then leave it alone. But, if it keeps pulling me back… I don’t write every day, but when I write, I write a lot. When I’m not writing, I try to organize things. It’s the Henry Miller work ethic that [Jeff] Tweedy gave me. Every day, if you can’t be creative, organize your other ideas or do something clerical that has to do with the work. There’s a bunch of stuff like that that’s actualy helpful. I feel like I can pay attention to my writing and not Jayhawks stuff. Lately I’ve been doing the voice memo and, when it draws me back, maybe I’ll do another one and then I’ll bring it into ProTools and set up a click, and if I decide I wanna do something else with it because I’m working by myself, I will.
I’ll set up my mic so it get s my vocal and cacoustic on the same track, then I’ll go back on and double it, the same way. Maybe I’ll make the next track a little thinner or make it more vocal-heavy so I can balance it. Then I’ll add some things on it with my melotron app on my iPad or my terminator thing on my phone, or I’ll use some plugins on ProTools. Then I have to figure out whether I’m making a record or if I’m just making demos.
I try to keep things more simple, and if it sounds good with those two double-track vocals and acoustic, and I can find something there, I can feel whether the song is happening.
I have the same thing. I like to keep the setup and if it’s vocal and piano or vocal and guitar and it’s working, then the rest is candy, really.
It is. And I’ve tried some things… I’m more interested [now] in doing the electronic stuff, which is a whole different world for me. I’m writing things off synth, things I’m doing, or looping sampled shit off the radio or my vinyl. It’s not dance stuff, it’s just experimental art stuff. Stuff I was interested in way before I was writing regular songs. It’s really fascinating to me. I don’t know who else would ever want to listen to this. But, I’ve been doing that stuff too. It’s a whole other way of writing songs.
We would talk – Ed and I would watch the Lefties and see those guys up there playing three chords and no bridge, and it was great. It was based on this really cool riff. It was riff writing, which is something I’ve never really done that much of. There’s so many ways to do [songwriting], but this is just how I do it or how you do it.