The non sequitur is a totally underappreciated phenomenon. It's the mind's preferred method of order versus the chronology of home movie previews called memories. It makes sense, at least for my money, to focus on these random snippets rather than the tidy summations of experiences. Such is the case with Jesse Sykes and the Sweet Hereafter's new album
Like, Love, Lust and the Open Halls of the Soul
, which revels refreshingly in the sonic and lyrical territory where environment, instinct and skill enter and exit a not-so-narrative dialogue. Sykes is currently on tour with Sparklehorse (7:30 pm Monday, Feb 5. $15. Santa Fe Brewing Company, 35 Fire Place, 424-3333), whose latest release,
Dreamt for Light in the Belly of the Mountain
, is a masterful and consciously vague collection of songs steeped, yet unbound, in musical tradition. Sykes may stroll within the artistry of her music, but makes her point clear when discussing the motivations behind her work as a modern-day singer-songwriter.
SFR: You attended school for visual arts. How has the figurative visual medium affected the literal in your songwriting?
JS:
I think an early understanding of visual composition and why one thing might work and something else doesn't has helped me tremendously as a songwriter. I actually see music visually-its shapes, textures and tones-and I'm very aware of the idea that music, like photography or painting, has to have 'depth of field' and requires it in order to draw the listener into the world you are trying to create.
As a songwriter, do you consciously search for the universal connection or are the experiences within your songs more concerned with opening the insular moment?
All of my work comes from a completely subconscious place on the front end. It isn't really until I have to start chipping away at the empty spaces to make a song work that I start to develop a conscious understanding of what is going on, and that's where I kind of start to take the reigns. I do find that after a song is finished, it keeps revealing things to me that I didn't notice at the beginning. It's almost as if they don't really belong to me-though they are going through 'my' filter or lens and possibly pertain to things that are happening or have happened in my life.
The last line in your song 'LLL' is: 'Someone else becomes the slave.' Would you consider this a political statement or is it more an observation on
our willingness for emotional surrender?
It's definitely about our willingness to surrender or our need to see the object of our desire surrender. I've been fascinated by this aspect of humanity as I have it in myself, and I've come to the conclusion that every human struggles with this-only some refuse to ever surrender, but most, at one time or another, have been at the giving end or the receiving end of this 'passing of the torch,' so to speak. Of course, in our culture we are slaves, or quickly becoming slaves, to so many things that I feel are numbing us, so there is a bit of a political bent to its meaning as well.
Sonically, your songs are very expansive. Is it your endeavor to reinvent the folk medium or are you merely embracing the use of abstraction generally avoided in songwriting?
A lot of that expansiveness and complexity is due to the fact that Phil [Wandscher] is such a creative, expressive guitar player. Truly what ends up happening is in the context of the songs that I write, he often creates such beautiful countermelodies, almost songs within songs, that I have sort of 'surrendered' to the notion that we have to honor this and allow for longer, more intricate pieces…it's just something that has evolved and seems to be working. It just feels right.
You worked with some notable producers on your new album. Are you comfortable in collaborative environments?
Yes, I've been very fortunate. It's all about trust. I think I'm the type of person who within seconds can determine if I am able to have that connection with someone in a studio context. If I felt like they were impatient and I were in any way intimidated by them, it could never work.
Your new album has an interesting title. Where did it come from?
I actually met a guy in a bar outside of Reno that had a tattoo on his wrist displaying three script L's (LLL). I asked him what it meant and he proudly said, 'Like Love Lust, baby,' and pointed to his wife and continued, 'That's what it all comes down to.' I knew this record was going to take a certain level of commitment from the listener; it would make sense to have a rather grand name that sort of spoke to and mirrored the complexities of love and the vastness of the human heart and soul.
Each song on your new album conveys a very specific and sobering attitude, yet there is some overarching premise at work. Would you consider these songs vignettes of some larger story?
I feel like this record has taken up a larger emotional space than I thought possible. There seems to be a real crying out to pay attention or to empathy, vulnerability, but also the understanding that the dark side does exist. It's just a matter of protecting yourself from the corrosion, because the human heart is so tender.
