Jonathan Wilson - Of Adventure and Fidelity

interview by Piergiorgio Pardo

Interviewing Jonathan Wilson is always a great pleasure. He's a gentle, thoughtful person, but also energetic and funny. Knowledgeable and genuine like few others. He hasn't lost his vaguely hippie attitude, but with maturity his outlook on the world has become more grounded, almost as if idealism and disenchantment, sobriety and ambition were subject to an ongoing process of mediation. Such a composed and fulfilled balance has recently produced his most visceral, lively and esoteric record to date. An enthusiastic, smiling Jonathan tells us about it, speaking to us from his art-and-life residence in Topanga.

This is the second time I've had the pleasure of talking with you. The first was more than ten years ago, right after the release of "Gentle Spirit". I'd seen one of your acoustic shows for two guitars, and we stopped to talk about music, about Laurel Canyon, about the songs on the record. It feels natural to ask you what feels different about you now compared to the Jonathan of back then. Would you change anything about your journey?

I'm really glad to meet someone who's been following me for a long time. It feels like geological ages have passed since "Gentle Spirit". Despite the experience I'd built up in the years before, I consider that record practically a debut, or at least the starting point of everything that came after in my solo career. I think the musical journey I've taken so far has been the most beautiful thing life could have given me. I wouldn't change a thing. My songs have always been deeply tied to who I am as a person. This is me, these are my songs, and there's really nothing I could change about what's happened — I can only look forward, as a musician and as a man.

Despite this underlying consistency, your albums show some pretty substantial variations.

Actually, I think the similarities are far more substantial than the differences. Some people might love my music for that reason, others might find me predictable, but for me it's a question of identity. The mood, or the taste, might change from one record to the next, but my relationship with the pleasure — or rather the need — to pick up a guitar and write a song is the same as when I was a kid. The way I look at the world outside and inside myself is mine and mine alone.

Three years ago I was really struck by the choice to make a stripped-down, live-in-studio record like "Dixie Blur". In fact, looking back, it seems to me that the richness of this album is an explosion of energy after the withdrawal and intimacy of that one. Do you agree?

Yes, absolutely. That's exactly the dynamic. And if you like, it was the opposite motion that had led me to that record, coming from "Fanfare" and "Rare Birds". Around "Dixie Blur" I had wanted to create a kind of ecosystem. A musician's life also develops through the responses he finds himself giving to the situations he's chosen to live and the obligations that come with them. For the recording of "Dixie Blur", for the first time I wasn't in my home studio, with complete control over the production, but in Nashville, together with Pat Sansone, in a studio that had its own costs, its own schedule, and its own inconveniences, even in terms of hours. All of that became a kind of creative impulse. But the other aspirations and the many ideas that would have led that work off track in that situation weren't lost. And you can find them on this record.

"Eat The Worm", despite its complexity, sounds different from "Fanfare" and especially from "Rare Birds". The sound feels more emotional, lighter, and also more unpredictable to me. Where did this particular atmosphere come from?

These are songs born in solitude and in a creative state with no time limits. Here in Topanga I have my own studio, Five Star. Away from Los Angeles and the city's forced rhythms, I get to enjoy a silence that isn't manufactured, but real. There wasn't even the noise of thoughts reminding me of some commitment or schedule to keep. It's just me, the instruments and my microphone. With all the time it takes. I produced every track and acted as my own sound engineer. For these songs to take flight, that exact freedom was necessary.

Even though you played most of the instruments, Jake Blanton is with you on bass and Drew Erickson on keyboards. Drew is known more for his work behind the mixing desk than as a musician. He produced, for instance, an important record like "Blue Banisters" for Lana Del Rey. Jake Blanton's sound on this album reminds me of the one used on "Man & Myth", the masterpiece album by Roy Harper that you yourself co-produced. How did you work with them?

It wasn't so much about writing out parts as it was about leaving them space within the songs. Basically, I gave them room to interact with the structures and the soul of the songs. Drew also collaborated on the string and horn arrangements. The recording sessions took place over the course of a week, while the groundwork needed to make them feel integrated, in tune, and at ease at the same time took a lot longer.

And when did the songwriting itself take place?

Between 2021 and 2022.

There was still a pandemic feel in the air...

Yes, especially in terms of how the days were structured. These are songs born at night, particularly the more unconventional sequences. I had fun experimenting.

Speaking of experimentation, I wanted to ask you about an extraordinary song like "Charlie Parker", which is also my favorite of the bunch. Why that title?

It refers to the stream-of-consciousness atmosphere that characterizes the track. My Charlie Parker is the same one from "Lullaby Of Birdland", symbolizing a flight, a state of mind, a soundscape that's part fantastical, part unconscious. In a way, the sonic dynamics also tell my own story, the ups and downs of my life in these years. All those strings, horns, tubular bells, fuzzy guitars, the bebop itself — they're all metaphors for my emotions. I reveal more of myself through music than through words.

And what are the predominant emotions?

I could say the song is about loyalty, but also about adventure and fun. Those are the two poles the album swings between.

There's also a video for the track, like the others directed by your wife Andrea Nakhla, who is a visual artist. It's really interesting that you used Artificial Intelligence to animate the drawings. How did that come about?

It happened by chance, after I saw an animated show entirely built around the use of AI. Then it was a matter of studying, of figuring out how to make drawing, animation and music interact with each other. AI lets you do things that were once unthinkable, and it's a technology that keeps evolving. We made videos for "Marzipan", "Ol' Father Time", "The Village Is Dead". The one for "Charlie Parker" is the craziest, but I think it really captures the musical sense of the song.

Still on the subject of images, but moving from animation to vision - on "East LA" you created an ending that sounds like a film score...

It's a song I worked on for about seven years before I managed to grasp its overall meaning. It's not easy to portray Los Angeles, all its contradictions, the glitter of Hollywood alongside the sense of disappointment, exclusion and frustration that can hit you when you actually live there, when its "gentrified breeze" - which isn't always an inclusive breeze - blows in your face. I had this line, "I am sitting in East Los Angeles/ I am watching a fat kid run", and from there the song developed over time. It was also hard to find an arrangement that could capture the contrast between the almost unreal suspension of Los Angeles' atmosphere and the frenzy of the people who live there.

When I visit Los Angeles for the first time, I want to have this track as the soundtrack in my headphones...

Then make sure it's at sunset, and in a car.

I'll keep that in mind. "The Village Is Dead", on the other hand, is one of the most uptempo tracks in your catalogue. Am I wrong, or do the string arrangements nod to Electric Light Orchestra?

The initial mood revolved around Bob Dylan's "Hurricane" by Bob Dylan, then, working with Drew Erickson on blending the guitar parts with the rhythm section, we arrived at these almost disco-style strings, very close to the way Jeff Lynne arranges things - he's actually always been one of my favourite musicians.

"Ol' Father Time" is dark and psychedelic. What did you want to express with it?

In this case it's not an emotional or atmospheric song, but a reflection on time, a sort of philosophical song. The arrangement, too, moves in the direction of the inexorability suggested by the turning of the seasons.

Among the tracks on the album, this is the one that makes me think most of your role as guitarist in Roger Waters' backing band. What's it like working with him?

Yes, I think that song's spirit is close to the way Roger relates to a compositional idea. Working with him is obviously thrilling. Even now, more than seven years after the first tour, when we find ourselves backstage and I maybe back him up on guitar while he's working on a new lyric, something magical happens - something I consider a treasure to be seized and looked after with care.

And now let's get to a manifesto track. The opening song, "Marzipan", is a surreal game of references throughout. Does irony have a place on this album?

Absolutely. Like on "B.F.F," where I joke about John Mayer, or about Jerry Garcia clones, starting with myself. Other times the irony is more partial or indirect, take "Hey Love" for example. On "Marzipan" it's more of a crowd-pleaser. It's a kind of wink to the listener, priming them to savor a certain kind of beauty. The string phrasing you hear at a certain point works as a signal, openly complicit and, of course, ironic and self-ironic.

In the lyrics of the song you drop a series of names, each one opening up its own world. There's Hank Williams, Roy Acuff and Chet Atkins, and I'd say that's to be expected from you, especially after an album like "Dixie Blur". But when I heard you mention a cult musician like Jim Pembroke and single him out as a master of anti-conventionalism, I confess I nearly jumped out of my chair. Can you explain that to me?

My interest in him started when I got sent a link to a live performance with his band, Wigwam, a Finnish jazz-rock and progressive project from the '70s. Jim was an English guy who had moved to Helsinki at the end of the previous decade and had founded the group together with Pekka Pohjola and other musicians from that scene. The performance was insane, it sounded like a cross between John Lennon, Captain Beefheart and Frank Zappa. I fell in love with it immediately and started digging into him. Besides the albums with the band, there were solo records too, the first of which, "Wicked Ivory", came out in '72, released under the pseudonym Hot Thumbs O'Riley, and it seemed like the strangest concept album, something like an imaginary talent show. Crazy, but beautiful. Jim died during the pandemic. Listening to that record gave me a huge creative boost. The right encounter at the right moment.

The craziest song on the album, though, seems to me to be "Bonamossa". What's that one about?

We've got this blues guitarist here in America called Joe Bonamassa. In the song he appears as a made-up character named Bonamossa, with the "a" in his surname swapped for an "o". It's a song about the blues, a fantasy in the vein of Chuck Berry, but very suspended and slowed down. The electronic percussion at the start and the orchestral arrangement are part of those crazy late-night ideas I mentioned earlier, the kind of thing where the next day you pick it up and think: "what on earth did I do here? What do I do now, do I work on it or not?"

With "Dixie Blur" you started a partnership with Bmg, and now you're fully signed with them. How's that working out?

Great. I've got an excellent team behind me, I'm given a lot of freedom, and things are working well.

Will there be a tour to support the album too?

Definitely, but later on, I think in spring 2024. Right now I'll be with Roger Waters in South America for the "The Dark Side Of The Moon Redux" tour.

So we can expect you back in Italy too when you return?

Absolutely, it's a promise.

(04/11/2023)

***

Fanfares from the desert

by Guia Cortassa

I reach Jonathan Wilson by phone in Los Angeles, a few weeks before the release of his new album, "Fanfare". This will indeed be the central topic of our brief conversation, with just a small sentimental digression at the end.

Hi Jonathan, how are you? How are you feeling about the release of "Fanfare"?

I'm extremely excited, I'm thrilled with the album, with its sound, the tracklist, the cover, the packaging, everything.

I haven't seen the packaging and booklet yet, but I did see the cover, with the reference to Michelangelo's "Creation of Adam". Why that choice?

To be honest, it happened by chance. I was messing around with that image, where the two figures bring their hands close together like that, because it seemed very symbolic and important to me. I started pulling their fingers further apart, a little more each day. But I had no idea it would become the album cover, I was just experimenting a bit, until Father John Misty told me, "That's going to be your album cover, man."

I read in the press notes for "Fanfare" that the central core of the album is this Steinway Grand Piano you have.

Yes, I had this Steinway in the studio that we'd rented. I had this idea, when we were starting the various sessions for the record, that I wanted a piano. So it ended up becoming one of the central pieces of the album.

That's something that struck me a lot with "Gentle Spirit" too, your previous work: you're basically a guitar music artist, but then everything revolves around a piano - for instance, the intro of the title track and of the album itself...

That's true, the intro of this record too, now that I think about it, yeah. It's interesting because live we're much more guitar-driven than on the record. But one day I really will make a guitar album [laughs].

One of the songs on "Fanfare" is called "Cecil Taylor", why that dedication?

I've always been very interested in all kinds of jazz, especially, as in this case, the avant-garde. Cecil Taylor is extremely avant-garde, he made very experimental music. The song refers specifically to when, in the Seventies, here in the United States, President Carter held a series of concerts on the White House lawn, and one of the artists invited was none other than Cecil Taylor, which made no sense to anyone. People were asking themselves, "What the hell does this guy want? Who is this playing for the President?" Because his music is extremely challenging - the one time I saw him live it was very hard to digest, even for a musician or a jazz connoisseur - and the fact that he was performing for the President is truly inexplicable. That song is also particularly special to me, because David Crosby takes part in it, with his backing vocals at the end. It had been a long time since he'd appeared on someone else's record, he did it for me and Graham Nash.

There are a lot of guests on this record. You've collaborated with several musicians and now it seems like everyone you've produced or written for has taken part in your album, I'm curious to know how it worked with this group of people.

Well, at first it was me thinking about who might be right to play the various parts, then there were people kind enough to show up, it was a combination of both.

The core of the album had influences like Jerry Garcia, Phil Lesh, Graham Nash and so on. We wanted to get there, to something wonderful like Jerry Garcia's first record, which is full of guests. At the beginning, though, we tried to avoid it, we talked about it from the very start, we didn't want to turn the record into a "best of the guests", but by the end of the process pretty much everyone had shown up on it. That's the best part, there are moments that feel surreal, like the crossed polarization of Father John [Misty]'s trip while I'm singing with Jackson Browne, it really felt just like that.

One of your latest collaborations was with Roy Harper. I read that you were actually one of the reasons that inspired him to go back into the studio and record new material. How did your relationship start?

He really wanted to start again. I was just a fan of his, I had some material and I made a tribute CD together with Dawes, Bonnie "Prince" Billy, Chris Robinson and others. When Roy got hold of it he asked, "Who's the guy who made this thing?". He was moved, because it was the first time - even though some others had covered his songs before. He came to see us in London, when we played a couple of times and my guest was Jackson [Browne], who told me that Roy had really loved it. We became friends, and he came to California to do the first cut of the record. He asked if he could come to my studio and my house, of course I said yes. He hadn't made a record in 13 years, he showed up there and recorded that marvel.

Yes, I've heard it and it's really a great record…

Of course it is! In October [the 22nd, ed.] I'll be part of this concert he's giving in London, I'm really excited, we'll both be playing: I'll open the show and then I'll play with him and the orchestra, it's going to be a great show.

Last year, at the End of the Road Festival you both played for the Bella Union anniversary, and I have to say we were all expecting to see you join him on stage during his set.

But he's a perfectionist, he wants everything to be at its best, and it was still too early for something like that. He's very respectful of his poetry and his melodies, which are among the best we've ever had.

With "Gentle Spirit" and all the recordings you've taken part in recently, you've become the icon of this revival of the Sixties sound: is it true you've never liked that label? "Fanfare" seems to me a step forward from the previous record…

Yes, of course it is. With "Gentle Spirit" it was the first time I found myself dealing with the media and interviews, I was surprised every time someone said [putting on a voice] "You sound exactly like something from the Sixties", and I'd think 'Well, if you say so…'. I can understand it, but at the same time I'm not trying to create a specific aesthetic. For me, songs come first, it's about what I want to say, and it can happen that the production has a psychedelic sound, with those guitars, that evokes a particular period, that's fine. But there's no stylistic concept behind it, I'm interested in the songs, I could have produced "Gentle Spirit" in a totally different way. I like to hear, and often to play too, piano, guitar, bass and drums.

For "Fanfare" I was heavily influenced by the sound of the Brazilian BMI Studios of the early Seventies, I listen to a lot of their records constantly, but also by Dennis Wilson's "Pacific Ocean Blue". It took me months just for some of the drum sounds, I wanted a much more mature production.

Indeed, the sound of the record is much richer compared to "Gentle Spirit".

Yes, exactly.

I have one last question for you, something I'm curious about: at the end of "Frankie Ray" [his first record, never officially released, ed.] you hid a cover of "I'm Looking Through You" by the Beatles. Why did you make that choice?

That record was written for a girl I was infatuated with. She didn't know it – or maybe she did, I don't know – and that song was for her: she'd told me her parents were getting divorced, and "I'm Looking Through You" was the song her father used to sing to her mother, because it described their relationship well. I decided to hide it there like that, so if she ever heard it, she'd understand. I still don't know whether that happened or not.

***

The sound of the canyon

by Lorenzo Righetto

Who would have thought that Laurel Canyon, one of those places where bohemian charm has been supplanted by real estate investment plans, could once again become a landmark for American independent music? It's certainly too early to say, but if there's one artist who can revive the glories of Love and Buffalo Springfield, and who has worn out copies of Joni Mitchell's records (among them the emblematic "Ladies Of The Canyon") and Graham Nash's, it's Jonathan Wilson. A producer and musician even before being a singer-songwriter, Wilson can be considered one of the last (?) great sound obsessives, deeply rooted in the great American tradition. He recently launched himself into a solo career with "Gentle Spirit", but the scene already doesn't seem quite the same.

As an introduction to yourself, can you tell us a bit about Muscadine, your first band?

Muscadine represented a special period for me. It was a groovy band, and that was a truly instructive time. From the early records, which were my first productions in real professional studios, to the chaos of the major label, expense reimbursements, expensive dinners, rock and roll stories… It was the beginning. The songs were good, by the way…

Both of your records came out a few years after they were recorded, even… Just a coincidence, or do you have a specific reason for that? Are you selective about signing to a label?

I'm very, very selective about signing record deals. It's a nasty business if you don't handle it properly. In fact I turned down four or five offers for "Gentle Spirit", some of them from major labels, offers I knew would have been disastrous for the record. Finding Bella Union was a blessing, it's the best label on the planet…

You also said, about the last track on the record, "Valley Of The Silver Moon": "It's a song about the modern music world, which doesn't understand what I have to offer as an artist, and about the struggle that's created". What do you mean by that?

Well, I've always recorded a lot of records and songs, things I knew would find their orbit in the universe someday, at some point, I just didn't know when. There have been difficult times, many darker moons than the one shining now.

I think, in any case, that "Gentle Spirit" could have come out in 2011, in 1998 or in 1976 and would still have had an impact on the music scene. Simply because, in my opinion, it's one of those records that fits the overused phrase "instant classic". Is that your goal when you think back on your music, on what you do?

I definitely always choose classic lines, classic colors. I try to make decisions that push the music one step forward while still holding onto the traditions I value most.

Who, in your opinion, are the young artists who can be considered "classic" in today's scene?

Bonnie Prince Billy, Vetiver, Fleet Foxes, Benji Hughes, Dawes.

Is "Gentle Spirit" your definitive step toward a solo career, or will you keep producing other artists' material and, more generally, keep up your collaborations?

It's without a doubt my definitive step toward a solo career. My work as a producer will have to take a back seat during this era of performing, of touring for me. I made several records back to back in the studio, and I'm taking a bit of a breather from that experience for a while…

Many musicians and friends contributed to the production of "Gentle Spirit", even though you usually write and perform all the instrumental parts yourself. Did they just come in and play what you had in mind, or did they help shape the songs?

Different tracks brought out different expressions. Everyone contributed magnificent individual parts, so much so that personality abounds throughout the record. I quietly slaved away on the rest for a few years.

Do you find that your broad musical and instrumental knowledge is a stimulus or a limitation to your music, to how you compose it?

I could never feel it as a limitation, I have so many ideas in my head waiting to be worked on, certainly enough for a whole lifetime… The fact that I play different instruments definitely shapes and defines my sound and my records.

As a specific goal for the production of “Gentle Spirit”, you referred to the “sound of the canyon,” since you were recording the record in the legendary Laurel Canyon. Can you explain that expression to an Italian, or European in general, listener?

The canyon is a certain way of feeling things. Even though you're only a mile or so from Los Angeles or the Sunset Strip, you find yourself in a natural cocoon of freedom, and the creative energy there is really active. It's a unique place, full of scents, even though today it's built up and very expensive. There's a new breed of salespeople catering to wealthy owners, a constant rise in property values because of the canyon's rock and roll past. It's really hard for an artist to live there, period — the rents are out of touch with reality. But if you're smart, you might still find your perfect little bungalow in the shade of a eucalyptus tree.

You've described the concept of “Gentle Spirit” in these words: “The album is about taking a little time to, you know, give humanity some kind of soundtrack steeped in reverence.” That's a pretty rare thing in today's singer-songwriter scene, where everyone tries to exploit their most introspective feelings, trying to compress the whole world into a single room. Your record, instead, has a certain Lennon-esque, panic-like spiritual attitude, especially on the title track that opens the record. Do you feel this is a “trademark” of your music?

That's a great observation and a crazy question, you win the question-of-the-year award for that one, as far as I'm concerned. I don't know what I wouldn't give for a panic-like, Lennon-esque spirituality to be a trademark of my music. I know there's power in patience, in breath. The great poets, musicians and painters taught me that.

You've described “Gentle Spirit” as a record made specifically for vinyl, a format you explicitly support. Speaking to the producer in you, can you explain how “a record made for vinyl” is produced in the studio? What kind of equipment did you use?

We use analog signal chains with an eye on the prize at the end of the journey, which will be a nice 180-gram vinyl record. We record to two-inch tape, and we mix down to quarter-inch analog tape. On Studer and Ampex machines, we do a double mastering of the record, one for vinyl, one for digital, that's how we did it. The master tapes go straight to a Neumann lathe, which adds depth, maybe a more “tactile” sense of having been there during the sessions, etc. The bet, if you follow the way I want the record to sound — that is, on a turntable with a well set-up system — is that it comes alive.

Thank you for the interview, and we hope to get you to promise us a concert in Italy!

Thank you, really. I'll definitely be in Italy in 2012!

Ride the wave of great music

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Jonathan Wilson on OndaRock

Discography

Frankie Ray (Pretty And Black, 2007)
Gentle Spirit (Bella Union, 2011)
Fanfare (Bella Union, 2013)
Rare Birds (Bella Union, 2018)
Dixie Blur (Bella Union, 2020)
Eat The Worm (Mbg, 2023)