Ben Seretan - Music to Embrace

Hey Ben, I hope you're doing well. Thanks for your music and for such an inspired album. I wanted to start with “Youth Pastoral” and what it makes me feel. Well, for instance, an irrepressible urge to hug you, metaphorically speaking given the situation. I think this has always been a trait of your music (both live and on record), its being very “corporeal”, as if it were a tangible object of love, so to speak. Do you agree, and is it something you also find in the music you like?

I think you often want to hug people who have their arms open to receive you – if the record can be defined in any way, I hope it's as a set of open arms. As you'll remember, there aren't many hugs in the world right now, there's no way to come together, and what's cruel is that it's precisely hugs and encounters that could help get through the tragedy and the loss. I didn't set out to make something comforting under this dark cloud we have over us now, but if it did to some extent, I'm glad about that.

And you're right, I really do think all music has a wonderful way of inviting you into a room, of taking you across the threshold – whether it's the sweaty pit of hardcore, or the ecstatic sensuality of the dance floor, or the remote, sci-fi world of someone like Ornette Coleman. There's an invitation, and within that invitation, kindness.

Let's start with the title, which has quite a defined stamp to it. Can you tell us a bit about your spiritual journey? What's the main message of your “pastoral”?

Well, in many ways the title is quite literal – it mostly has to do with my youth, which took place in this fantastic, bucolic setting of Orange County (a beautiful Californian suburb near the sea). In other words, a kind of pastoral. But it's also about a specific moment in my faith story, which had been guided by young preachers of a very particular type – the Southern California “youth pastor”, the kind of person who bleaches the tips of his hair well past his forties and does extreme sports on the days he's not at church. There's a deep, overflowing sadness in that archetype, and a real sense of male rage, too. The kind of person who has faith but feels like it's never enough. I wanted to hold onto all these images in the songs and in the title. A bit ironic in these times, maybe, but ultimately I think the message of the record is simply to hold close the people near you and take care of them – friends, family, life companions of every kind, anyone. Bring them together – there's a deeper truth and a more eternal love in that than in any sacred book or set of expectations. My little community was reminded of this all too vividly last summer, that anyone can be taken from you in an instant, and now we have to avoid seeing each other as much as possible. Being together is sacred, I wish I'd believed that even more deeply before.

Four years have passed since “Bowl Of Plums”, and even though anyone can see that your musical style hasn't changed, “Youth Pastoral” seems to speak from a different place. In your own words, how do you think this new album differs from your earlier releases?

Even though I love everything I've worked on, “Ben Seretan” and “Bowl Of Plums” were made while I was still learning how to make a record. We recorded the first one really quickly – I think we were in the studio for a total of four days! That's it! Partly because I was broke at the time and partly because I liked the idea of making something live, flawed. And the result is that there are a lot of pitchy vocal notes, tempo changes, funny noises – little imperfections that make the record what it is. “Bowl Of Plums” was made in a slightly more luxurious way, but it was also recorded in at least five different studios across the United States. I still wasn't sure what it meant to make a record, and there's this wonderful naivety in that record too. Very open-hearted, very defenseless, almost alarmingly so.

“Youth Pastoral” was recorded with considerably more care and intention, and written over a much longer period (the oldest song, “Holding Up The Sun”, dates back to 2015). We did this beautiful thing where I'd record the vocal part at my friend Alex's house once a week for a few months – I'd alternate between going to therapy one evening and then going to his place the next, it was an extremely deep way of working. There was no rush: I knew how I wanted the whole thing to sound and, maybe even more importantly, I felt that sooner or later I'd have the chance to make another record.

So maybe that's why it sounds a bit more mature, a bit more aged, on top of the fact that I am too! Also, a huge part of it is that I started exercising really seriously starting in 2018 and, honestly, my lungs are much stronger now. I find it much easier to sing, and I think you can hear that on the album.

Over these four years there was also the 24-hour recording project called “My Life's Work”. Can you tell us about it? How did it influence “Youth Pastoral”?

As I was saying, I've allowed myself a bit more patience these last few years, both in how I work and in what I expect from myself. I learned a lot about this from the “My Life's Work” project, something I worked on for at least a few hours a week for about 18 months straight. There was no rush at all, there's no way to do something that long quickly, so I had to slow down, become more reflective, and commit to the work (I realize now that our label's mascot is a turtle… slow and unstoppable).

"When I started working on “My Life’s Work”, I knew it wasn't a traditional album, but in the process of releasing one song at a time I started writing more and more, until it became an essential part of the whole thing. That weekly writing was a huge help in working through my stuff while I was writing the songs that would end up on “Youth Pastoral”… I was remembering things, thinking about growing up, digging into memories and dreams outside the world. It really laid the groundwork for orienting myself.

When I think of contemporary music with an underlying religious theme, I think of Sufjan Stevens, of The Innocence Mission. What's your point of reference in this context? There are definitely echoes of gospel and spirituals in the album…

I really do love that kind of music – Sufjan comes to mind, but also Danielson, but there are also other kinds of devotional music that I like just as much, if not more – people like Pharoah Sanders and Alice Coltrane (especially her later ashram music).

For me it actually works the other way around – I first learned to play music in church, singing in the choir, taking piano lessons from the church accompanist when I was very young, and later playing guitar and bass in the youth group band, which played devotional music heavily influenced by Coldplay. I found a kind of earthly joy in that music that ran much deeper than the comfort of religion, I felt things reverberate in my body that woke me up far more than prayer did. It took me many years of loving music to finally let my guard down and start to dance, but I think dance music is really where I feel the most sacredness now. I never feel as divine as when I'm lost in a deep, driving rhythm, surrounded by other people, in the middle of the night. It's become a gospel for me!

There are several collaborators who make the songs shine even brighter (I'm particularly fond of the sax parts), and I think you'll want to talk a bit about Devra and her work.

I'm extremely lucky, because I'm surrounded by and get to work with some of the most talented people I know, people I truly love and admire. Let me introduce them to you…

Nico Hedley sings and plays bass, and has been playing with me for about seven years now. He's a fluid, sinuous bassist who is perfectly comfortable improvising an exploratory melody underneath my songs. A great cheerleader. He has a wild, vaguely country band (Nico Hedley and his Family Band) and put out what's probably my favorite 7" of all time.

Dan Knishkowy plays drums and sings a bit, I think he also played guitar – Dan is an incredible songwriter, with a subtle and surprising arpeggio style. He also has a band I play electric guitar in called Adeline Hotel (which actually has a fantastic album out on May 8th).

Alex Lewis plays lap steel and some of the more sweeping guitar parts – an old friend and definitely my favorite guitarist, he plays in a couple of great Philadelphia bands (Flat Mary Road and The Early) and also releases audio and radio pieces.

Dave Lackner plays all the horns on the album, and Dave produces and puts out some of my all-time favorite music on his label Galtta Media – the last two records in particular are slick, disreputable, delightful. He's an excellent musician, and his band Blue Jazz TV puts on incredible, incredible live shows.

And Will Stratton – a truly remarkable guitarist, songwriter and composer I've been a fan of for at least ten years – did us the honor of mixing the record. It wouldn't have sounded this good without his delicate skill and enthusiasm.

But of course the most important presence on the record – as it was in our lives – is Devra, who besides being an incredibly talented harmony singer, was also one of the funniest and most interesting people I've ever had the pleasure of calling a friend, and on top of that, she also made the most wonderful, serious, moving sculptures with an ecological conscience. I love her, I miss her, I'm sitting next to a huge slab of resin she made as I write this. I still learn from her every single day. She would be so excited to be quoted in an interview, and trying to remember her enthusiasm is really the only way we found the courage to release this record. It would have been so great to release it with her by our side. I urge you to check out her work, it really speaks for itself.

This is the first record released by your label, Whatever's Clever. Why did you decide to start one? What has your experience been so far?

I'd been using the name Whatever's Clever for my own stuff without thinking much about it for a while – since 2016 – but when Nico had a couple of songs to put out we made it into a "real thing" – and it's still basically just us trying to support each other collectively and give a bit more meaning to what we do. I try not to think of it as "my label": it's just a group entity, a way of channeling positivity toward each other, and maybe it just happens that I have the energy and space to do the dirty work. Trying to make use of people's talents – cooperating in a way that doesn't really happen in the New York scene, which can sometimes feel cutthroat or at least a bit cliquey. For example, Benedict Kupstas, songwriter in the excellent band Field Guides, is also an extremely talented designer and has done a lot of great work for people in the label's circle, including our little logo.

It's been great so far, really helpful, and I hope we can keep it going. I mean, we are keeping it going – we have a record, which came out on April 17th, by an incredible composer and percussionist, Matt Evans, and the Adeline Hotel record comes out in May, and there's talk of putting something out in the summer too.

My favorite part of the label is this series of living-room shows we've been doing at my apartment (called Turtle Country) – they're really special, very intimate, deeply non-commercial events that sometimes turn into big parties, but often just give people a space to interact, make plans about their dreams, and listen to some good music on a couch. The Scree record release show last fall was one of my all-time favorite nights, a bunch of people sitting and listening to this quiet, thoughtful music, with the upright bass mumbling away in a corner… I hope we can get back to it soon, and I also hope we can figure out how to simulate those nights virtually before too long…

Luckily for us, you've always had a special relationship with Italy — you released your earlier records with the Italian label Love Boat, you've toured Italy extensively, and so on. Can you tell us how it all started?

It started because one day my good friend Andrea Pomini illegally downloaded my record. He's a truly good man, a deep listener and a real champion of the things he loves, especially when nobody else is! He was convinced right away, for whatever reason, and soon he was writing about it in Rumore. That's where it all began — the Back Door record store in Turin bought a handful of copies to sell, and soon after I got an invitation to play a yoga festival in Sezzadio. Andrea offered to put out a CD reissue on his Love Boat label, and that festival then led to a three-week tour that's probably still the happiest stretch of my life. Pure joy, just singing for people and going swimming every day. I loved traveling by train, hauling my stuff around and meeting people in the summer… I always try every way I can to get back!

I've done a total of five months of touring in Italy over the past five years, plus last summer's Buskers Festival in Lugano. We put together an entire record while we were there at Outside Inside Studios (one of my favorite places I've ever worked — Matt Bordin is a genius)… Hopefully we'll be able to release it soon and bring the band back to Italy. Finally, my friend Jordan Knecht put out a book about that first tour, in case anyone's interested (here is the audio version).

You also play for other bands and artists. Can you tell us about a project you're currently collaborating on?

The one that matters most to me right now is the Adeline Hotel record, called "Solid Love," out May 8th. I really love those songs, which are about friends and community, and about that reassuring feeling you get from having enough love in your life. And Dan has unlocked this hypnotic, intense, improvised spirit that I love playing over. The songs are written concisely, but they more often than not open up into these sinuous jams, with big sax flourishes from David Lackner or gorgeous keyboard interludes from Winston Cook-Wilson (of Office Culture). Folk singer Brigid Mae Power (who we're all huge fans of) sings harmonies, and there are tons of cello sprinkled throughout the record from our friend Kristen Drymala (of Quarterly). Who knows what the future holds — it's hard to collaborate very effectively right now, at least for me — but I played guitar on a great Will Stratton record that might come out this year, or might not (and we've been playing live together for a couple of years now). There's also this experimental duo with Matt Evans called Thee Obsidian Gong — we put together a record while Matt was in residence at Pioneer Works in Brooklyn a while back and it really kills, we're working on getting it out to you all as soon as possible. 

That said, if anyone wants to collaborate or play with me, please email me!

Thanks for your time. I see there's a list of pretty interesting facts about your life on your website, like shaking hands with Neil Young and working as a caretaker for a famous turtle. Want to tell us one of them?

Ha! Well, those two are among my best, but let me think… Right after I finished college, I didn't know where to go, so I moved in with my mom and stepdad at their lake house in the most rural part of Missouri. It was the kind of place where I had to drive 8 miles to get internet at McDonald's. I had a good time there, but when a friend of mine asked if I wanted to join him and drive across the country to New York City, I jumped on it right away. I had 300 dollars and a week to live on before he came to pick me up, so I started looking for places and internships on Craigslist. One of them really caught my eye — it was something like American Cheese Industries, Inc., and they were looking for a production assistant. I had at least some of the skills and qualifications they mentioned, so I sent an email and waited for a reply. I found out shortly after that I'd gotten the job. Well, it turned out this production company was owned and run by a white rapper who was, potentially, developing a TV show for HBO. And I say white rapper because that was definitely his whole thing: he was a middle-aged Caucasian guy, smoked a ton of weed, and made these over-the-top, tasteless songs, embarrassing music videos apparently heavily influenced by Dolemite-style blaxploitation. Like, he'd rap shirtless while eating ribs, that kind of thing. But the truly crazy part of all this is how he actually made his money… Rap was just his passion. This guy was the owner/manager/agent of a jack russell terrier that had a thriving international career as a painter. Yes, this dog was a painter, and yes, the dog sold its work and had pieces exhibited all over the world. You can look her up, her name was Tillamook Cheddar and she was a truly wonderful dog, really lovely to be around. This dog's art was insanely successful and allowed this guy — from what I understand — to pursue his own passion of being over-the-top cheesy on rap terms. And so he wanted me to work not for his money-making painter dog, but for him, as he tried to become a famous rapper. That mostly meant filming rehearsals (and turning off the camera while they smoked), but once it meant helping run the stage for a show he was performing at… He'd just gotten hurt, had a hernia, so there were certain things he couldn't do during the performance… I remember having to carry a refrigerator onto the stage for some reason, out of which he pulled his stage props, the whole time barely able to move because of the pain. Heroic, in a way.

The last time I saw him or Tilly the dog was when I commissioned a piece. The rapper had offered to sell me one at an unmissable employee discount, and I'd been sleeping on a friend's floor for weeks, so I wanted to buy her something nice. We set a time for me to come watch Tillamook Cheddar make the painting. Here's how they did it: he'd set up this big arrangement of paper, tape, and pastels — arranged so that when the dog bit or scratched at the package, its movements would transfer onto the paper. The result was a very abstract but moving, gestural painting. Maybe it was the huge hit of weed he offered me when it started, but it was truly amazing to watch the dog work — it seemed to be consciously thinking about what it was doing the whole time, like it had real intention, like it had a plan for expressing itself. And I swear to God, when it was done, it stepped back and barked twice, the prearranged signal. It's a beautiful painting and it's still hanging in my friend's apartment.

Next interview I'll tell you about the time I was a nude model!

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