Matteah Baim - An Inscrutable Magic

A painter originally from Wisconsin and an adopted daughter of New York's new pre-war-folk circles, Matteah Baim is the hidden muse of the pink-tinged singer-songwriter firmament of recent years. Her music is a pastoral fresco streaked with acidic veins, a subliminal crossing of raw psychedelia and top-shelf weird folk. A friend and collaborator of Devendra Banhart, and, with Sierra Casady (Cocorosie), one half of the duo Metallic Falcons, she recently opened American shows for Antony & the Johnsons. We caught up with her exclusively, between one airy waltz and the next, and a hidden love for Italian film composers of the '60s and '70s.

I think you're one of the best folksingers in today's American underground. Your music carries strong echoes of the old folk poetesses (from Linda Perhacs to Anne Briggs), but a great spirituality often prevails in your sound, one through which poetry runs alongside a peace of the senses. Is that a reflection of your soul? Listening to your songs, one imagines you as a girl rich in spirit.

Peace of the senses running alongside poetry, what a beautiful thought! I think that in a race, Peace of the Senses would make Poetry run faster and smoother. When I listen to my own music, I do so mostly with my ears tuned to whether or not it's working. When I'm working on it, there are moments when I feel truly very happy. Maybe that's the imprint of my soul that you're picking up on. Or at least I hope so.

Delicacy is one of the main components of your voice. In "He Turned My Mind Around", an Indian mantra reveals its mystical allure. What do you think about placing your voice, usually so composed and calm, in passages like this one?

I believe Seneca's poems struck me in a very personal way when I read them. For me, singing those lines was a way of telling that experience rather than some kind of shamanic ritual. There's a story of transformation in the song, the kind of transformation that can happen when two people see that their world has suddenly and inexplicably changed simply because they've come to know each other. It can happen in an instant, or over a long stretch of time. It's always surprising when it happens. Almost always, you don't even notice it's happening.

In these recent years of global crisis, the music industry has suffered steep declines (the mainstream world aside). Countless small artists emerge every day; some have real potential, but many others go nowhere. I think it's genuinely hard today to tell good music apart from "bad" music. What do you think about the way music has been absorbed into the web?

Today I was reading this story from an old 1909 newspaper. One of the headlines was "First Flight Over Paris". It talked about people gathering in the streets of Paris to watch an airplane fly over the Eiffel Tower for the first time. Back then there were only a handful of airplanes in the whole world, and just as few pilots. Today it's hard to even imagine how many flights happen each day around the world, aboard planes that are tremendously bigger and faster. So, coming to the question of music in the digital age, it seems to me we're somewhere between those two realities. We've seen a plane fly over the Eiffel Tower, but we're not yet flying in the most efficient and fastest way around the world. Technology is pushing us to change the kind of interaction we have with music as a medium and as a good, in many positive ways, but there are also plenty of problems tied to the real quality of sound and the care put into how things are made. We just have to keep being innovative until we find the right path.

Oliver La Farge is a great writer. How did he end up influencing your music?

I came across his book, "Laughing Boy", while I was writing the record. I read it at night and worked on the songs during the day. I think the book's influence was subtle but pervasive. There was a line from the book that I found myself thinking about several times a day, during that period: "In the house of happiness, there I wander." It was the thought and the song running through "Laughing Boy"'s head as he danced, in one of the early passages of the book. That line haunted and inspired me while I worked.

Robert "Lichens" Lowe, Hisham Akira Bharoocha, Leyna Marika Papach and Rob Doran play on Laughing Boy. How did these collaborations come about?

They're musicians who were working near me at the time. Much to my surprise, each of them offered to play on my record. Part of it might be the magic of music and its ability to naturally bring people together... Or maybe it simply comes down to the openness and generosity of those musicians. One of them, Rose Lazar, will be touring with me on the upcoming European tour, which will also take in Italy.

I know you're also a painter. Is there a connection between the way you paint and your music?

Yes, there is... Sometimes it's a direct link, other times it's more roundabout. Either way, the two things enrich and shape each other, as happens with all the work a person loves.

You'll soon be playing in Italy too. What do you think of this fascinating country? Do you know any Italian musicians?

Yes, you said it well, fascinating! Italian film composers of the '60s and '70s like Ennio Morricone and Piero Piccioni have truly inspired and impressed me. It's some of my favorite music.

"Bird Of Pray" is a tribute to the poetry of Jim Morrison. What do you think of his poetics and the interplay between words and music?

I never thought of "Bird Of Pray" as a tribute to Jim Morrison, but you might be right. I think there probably should be a tribute of mine to him, considering how much I've taken from his work. When the right music and the right words come together, there's not much that can top that. Morrison had his own innovative way of weaving together the musical approach and the poetic one. A truly unique way.

What do you think of the Metallic Falcons project with Sierra Casady? Is a new project with her planned for the future?

I think the work with the Falcons ends there, but I'm glad we had the chance to make that record.

There are some differences between "Laughing Boy" and "Death Of The Sun". What has really changed in your songwriting?

The change comes from a couple of years of touring and from having spent a few quiet months focusing on writing and composing "Laughing Boy". And on listening a lot. "Death Of The Sun" was very immediate. Before I even knew it, the songs were on tape and then out in the world. They are what they are, and they very much reflect the moment they were made in.

"Laughing Boy" is an intimate work. Is there any connection to your everyday life?

"Laughing Boy" was part of my everyday life. I'm not even sure you can really separate your work from who you are, but I know that if what you're doing means something to you, then there's an interpenetration between the two dimensions. Of course, my everyday life also includes a lot of coffee and trying to watch as many Buster Keaton and Groucho Marx clips online as possible... So, who can say?!

Let's wrap up with a question about your passion for literature. Who is currently your favorite writer?

Oh, my favorite author... Hard to say... Lately I've been reading a lot of humorous stories, especially by David Sedaris and PG Wodehouse. Laughing can really make your head spin!

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google