On the occasion of the release of his second album, we had the chance to speak with American singer-songwriter Jeremy Ivey and ask him a few questions about the making of “Waiting Out The Storm”. Among other things, we talked about his approach to songwriting, his extraordinary chemistry with Margo Price, and the presence of highly topical themes in his music. Below you can read the full interview, and find out how, rather than writing deliberately politicized songs, he'd rather sing about a love story between Buffalo Bill and Medusa. And honestly, we can't wait for that to happen.
Your new album is called “Waiting Out The Storm”. What kind of storm are you referring to? Is it perhaps a climate storm, or a political one?
It's a storm of fate and trial. A storm of time and blood. It will never end, but we will.
Your lyrics carry plenty of references to contemporary issues, from the climate crisis to the racism still widespread in our society. Are your lyrics deliberately politicized, or are they mainly personal reflections based on what you observe around you?
It's mainly a personal reaction rather than a deliberate intention to be political. I don't want to be accused of being politicized. I'd rather write about ancient cities and telepathic sea peoples, or about Buffalo Bill falling in love with Medusa.
Do you think artists should address these issues, like the climate crisis for instance, more in their work?
Yes, I think it's important to make use of your inner frustration. Speak out openly against the greed that's ruining our planet, and against the narrow-minded racism typical of a closed mentality. But make sure it's done well: a badly written protest song is worse than no song at all.
“Tomorrow People” is a wonderful opening track. It seems to address both the people of the future and, quite directly, whoever is listening to it right now. How did you come up with the idea for this song?
I read the words on a shelf in a secondhand bookstore and a few lines came to me. Asking yourself what damage is being done in our present will weigh heavily on the future. Once I got home, I just had to jot it down; Margo helped me out with a couple of lines.
Both your latest record and Margo's show how a certain strain of American music is in ferment, with new voices taking their rightful place in the contemporary scene. What do you think of the current landscape between Americana and contemporary country? You've also had the chance to work with Sturgill Simpson, right?
Well, I've known Sturgill for about a decade now. I wouldn't consider his music Americana. I'd call it southern in tone, but not really country either, actually. I honestly don't know what Americana even is, and I don't care to know. Music is either good or it's forced. I'd rather play good music and leave the forced stuff for selling Stetsons (a historic American hat brand, ed.) and iPhones. I don't like genre categories. I play American music, but you can find the influence of other cultures in it too.
What's it like instead to work and write songs together with Margo? How much do you influence each other?
It's my favorite thing in the world. We influence each other a great deal. We're competitive, and we push each other out of our comfort zones.
During the times when you're working and writing together, how do you manage to separate work from your married life?
We don't, it's all the same thing. An argument can turn into a lyric, and a lyric can turn into an argument.
If I'm not mistaken, you wrote the lyrics to “Someone Else's Problem” together in a kind of back-and-forth, one line at a time. And yet the lyric is very cohesive, consistent, and gets straight to the point. Do you always have this kind of chemistry when you write together?
Most of the time, yes. On Margo's songs, I've written a lot of things from her point of view. We've figured out how to speak for each other and how to make that feel very natural.
I imagine the song was written in 2019 or early 2020. And yet it feels extremely relevant in this second half of 2020. The references to killings at the hands of racist police officers and to the climate crisis seem to speak directly to what we witnessed last summer, with the killing of Floyd and the protests that followed, and then the violent California wildfires that turned the West Coast sky an apocalyptic red. Do you feel a bit like a prophet, perhaps?
That's a beautifully phrased question. No, I don't feel like some kind of prophet. When you write a song like that, you feel shattered, almost annihilated. It's sadness that turns into anger. I've spent many years trying to learn how to translate my emotions into words. I've read book after book, from Gibran to Vonnegut, from Plath to Lorca. I can't compare myself to their work, but I have my own to devote myself to. Like I said, I don't necessarily want to write about this kind of thing, but when precious lives are stolen in broad daylight by hateful men, there's no way to ignore it.
The surreal and the dreamlike are recurring themes in your songs (“How It Has To Be,” “Movies”). Is that effect intentional, or is it more the result of momentary flashes of intuition, ideas that come to you and that you translate straight into a song? Do you think it might be a poetic strategy capable of loading the lyrics with multiple layers of meaning?
I try not to think too much about the poetic muse; I'd rather just let it flow through me. I don't spend much time wondering whether it makes sense or not: if the lines are good and they flow, then it'll come through. In “How It Has To Be,” for instance, I wanted to point out how history all happens at once, and how our biggest problems are timeless. In “Movies,” on the other hand, I was just transcribing a dream I'd had. I gladly embrace the absurd, because there's truth in it.
Has anything changed in your songwriting process since your solo debut?
I'd say I have more freedom now. I don't think I could have fit "A robot president that plays golf" (in "Things Could Get Much Worse", ed.) onto the previous record… (laughs)
Has the long recovery from your experience with Covid-19 and quarantine affected the way you make and think about music?
Yes and no. Songwriting is a completely inward thing. Maybe suffering communicates with that deep place. What's certain is that I now enjoy the small things in my life much more.
Last year you said you were planning to release a lot of music in the near future. Can you confirm that this is still your plan? Do you intend to release new music in 2021? If so, can you tell us more about it? Is there perhaps a common theme, a concept, tying together the songs on your next record?
Yes, I'll definitely have one ready for next year. Margo will too. Hopefully, whatever my next record turns out to be, it'll be made up of good songs. Otherwise I might end up becoming a rodeo clown or something like that.
Thanks for your time!
Thank you so much! I hope I can come to your beautiful country and eat and drink like I'm in heaven.
(November 2020)
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This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Daniel Moor, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.
| The Dream And The Dreamer (ANTI-, 2019) | ||
| Waiting Out The Storm (ANTI-, 2020) |