Winterpills - Passion and Intellect

One of your band's great trademarks has always been the strong interplay between its members. Can you tell us a bit about how you all met, and how you developed your sound?

We were all friends before we became a band. We were certainly all musicians who played either in other bands or as solo artists — but our social bond/friendship (for better or worse) is what came first, and what remains now.

Our "creation myth" is simple but true: we got together at Dennis Crommett's house during the horrible winter between 2003 and 2004, after a string of breakups, deaths and other sobering events had settled over our heads. We drank cheap wine, played guitar in a circle, and eventually started playing my songs — songs I'd been piling up for a couple of years before my previous band (the Maggies) broke up.

A sound was born, and then it locked into place when Flora joined us (she was the last to arrive). I still remember our first show with her at a little bar — everyone in the room stood completely still, and so did my heart!

One thing I sense in your early records is a kind of therapeutic atmosphere. A very intense expressive urgency, softened by the music. Was that what making music meant to you at the time? Is it part of the story behind your name?

How to put it, a kind of "group therapy"? Well, I'd go as far as to say the first two albums were born out of a lot of psychological turmoil, but then again, what art isn't, right? I know I wasn't writing songs to make anyone feel better, that's for sure. I was trying to give voice to things I was tired of trying to say through my usual, blunt means of expression.

One of my favorite songs of yours is "Cranky". Can you tell us about this song, about this character?

Cranky is the real nickname of someone I knew, a friend, and the story of the song is simply the nostalgia for a friend. It's also a kind of blurred portrait of someone seen through a rearview mirror as they drive away, and a plea — what do you say to someone who left when you needed them? Do you say, "Tell me, what do I do?" The question hangs there, rather easily, over a melody.

In "Broken Arm", one of Winterpills' best-known songs, you sing about a broken arm that hates its own hand, about a farmer who hates his harvest, etc. Have you ever felt the same way about your own music?

It's hate and love, isn't it? Both cursed and saved by these sounds in my head. Tormented. All songwriting is, for me, a kind of trepanning, to let out of my head the fever of those songs endlessly repeating.

It's the only cure – that, or trying to get rid of it, which I've never tried to do. I'm afraid that would be a kind of suicide. So… Yes, I've definitely felt the same way.

I saw a video of you playing that same song at a school, with girls singing along, like at an end-of-year party. At first it seemed a bit odd, then I thought it fit perfectly with my idea of your music. What's your relationship, as a band and as artists, with the local community?

That one was with a group from a high school (Charlemont's Academy), and they were the ones who asked us! We'd played a show up there in the hill towns and had become friends with them through a songwriting workshop we did at the school, so they ended up opening for us. Really fun, a special evening. Talented kids. They chose the song themselves.

Every now and then we do charity things in our area, which is a small, pretty rural region. I wouldn't say we're constantly and proactively involved in that kind of thing, but when something good comes up, we step forward.

One of the best around here is an annual concert that raises money for arts education in schools (here in America there's no money for the arts in schools, or anywhere else really; art is seen as pretty much superfluous and pointless). Various local musicians impersonate famous artists according to a set theme, for a daylong outdoor concert called "Transperformance." It's a highlight of our late summer, since plenty of egos show up at the door, plenty of costumes get worn, and a good deal of chaos and humor ensues. It's usually attended by several thousand people and it's a huge party. Last year I did Elton John.

A great band that doesn't remind me of you musically, but for the fact that they've produced, in a kind of comfortable anonymity, sophisticated and deeply inspired pop music, are your neighbors Innocence Mission. Do you have any relationship with them, even a fictional or spiritual one?

We more or less know them, or our paths have crossed; our guitarist toyed with the idea of recording something with a couple of them, but it never came together. We're all fans of theirs, no doubt. Wonderful music. I sense the Sonora connection. I also think they're something like a Christian band, which we're not, so there's that difference.

A lot of the interviews I found online date back to around the release of "All My Lovely Goners." This is one of them, naturally. How do you feel about this somewhat belated discovery of your music, being hailed as the next big thing when this is, in fact, your fourth record? Do you think that, in past eras, you would have stayed under the radar, or had an easier path?

That's a good question. I have no idea how we would have been received in the '70s, say. Things might have gone better for us if we'd had decent management. Sure, the internet is supposed to be the Great Equalizer, and sometimes it is, but it's also opened the floodgates to mediocrity, to endless repetition. Today you can do a lot without a manager, but the playing field is almost too level.

I'm not sure anyone considers us the next big anything. We certainly don't think we're doing anything particularly new. How do you add anything to what already exists, in rock, in pop, in folk, or in any genre? The book's been written for a while now. All we can do is be craftspeople with certain obsessions and passions, and if someone thinks that's "new," then who knows, maybe it is. It's as if everyone in pop music now is adding little pieces to the great sandcastle that was built starting around the '50s, and while plenty of artists built entire turrets and grand rooms, now there are just people adding one tiny grain of sand at a time to an imposing wall that already exists.

Something I always wonder is: does this virtual attention translate into reality? For instance, more requests for live shows, radio sessions, and so on. Were the months following your latest release any different from previous times?

I was hoping that would happen, but it's been pretty much like every other time. From my point of view, we don't tour nearly enough – but since we're not twenty-two anymore, and we're not bursting with energy and free of ties, it's not easy. We're all adults with kids and jobs and relationships and everything else, which is actually vital to our creativity, by the way. I'm glad to have a life outside of music, otherwise, what would you draw from? The music industry, which is a pretty dull subject.

Listening to "All My Lovely Goners," it feels like there's a kind of statement from the band, as if to say: "Hey, here we are!". Was that the point you wanted to make?

Everything we've ever released was a shout of that kind, wasn't it? So yes, that's what we're saying. Listen to it! Just relax and listen.

Musically, I think it comes from the same place but, this time, in terms of production, artwork, etc., we took a step further (or ten). I'm not sure if it's earned us more attention, but we're really proud of the finished product. My mom loves it. I think it's the best thing we've done. But I don't know. Time will tell. Thank God I don't have to decide these things.

In particular, you've changed your guitar style a lot. The strumming barely appears, when it's always been "front and center" in your music on your previous releases. Why did you choose such a radical change?

Actually there's plenty of strumming on this album, it's just mixed differently. Then maybe it was the microphones we used! They made everything sound different. On this record, I chose a more "orchestral" approach to the band's instruments - the relationships are balanced differently than in the past. You can hear the same attitude on "Tuxedo Of Ashes", our 2010 EP.

You could be named among the "elder statesmen" of the new Americana movement of recent years, alongside Mat Brooke and Sam Beam and others. What's your take on the current scene?

I'll take that as a compliment, I'm not sure any of them have ever heard of us! Also, I'm not an authority on the Americana scene - but I can say I've really enjoyed the latest releases by Kathleen Edwards, Father John Misty, Laura Veirs and Wilco. I'm not sure what scene Sun Kil Moon belongs to (acoustic shoegaze?), but I've been listening to his stuff a lot lately.

Music is as alive as ever. It's just easier to find now. Like everything else, really.

Can we hope to see you play in Europe (possibly here in Italy)?

I wish I could explain why it's always been hard for us to get over there, but we're determined to do it soon. It'll probably be Flora and me, as a duo, at least to start with. I really hope it'll be this fall.

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