After a Quarter-Century in the Game, Neko Case Is Finally Looking Back
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The post After a Quarter-Century in the Game, Neko Case Is Finally Looking Back appeared first on Consequence.
Most can agree that songwriting is a craft, but few musicians actually Zoom in from a garage, near a workbench, surrounded by tools, in an oversized hoodie. Neko Case does.
“I have to do a lot of building today — top-secret building. I hope I get it right,” she tells Consequence. “I’m going to need a trip to the hardware store. That kind of thing.” Whatever Case is building in there — Tom Waits-style — includes spray paint, and is bound to be messy. But she’s up for this constructive sort of chaos.
Over Case’s long career — she put out her first record, The Virginian, in 1997 — she’s relentlessly pushed forward and honed her abilities as an idiosyncratic and incisive singer/songwriter. But she’s never put out a retrospective compilation until now. Case is on a press junket for Wild Creatures, a collection of 22 songs from her past (and one new one, “Oh, Shadowless”) arriving Friday, April 22nd on ANTI- Records.
Is it a strange feeling for Case to finally look back on this wild, wooly thing she’s built for 25 years — an entire songbook? Not entirely, as she’s partly in the business of looking back. Performing live is predicated on it, and she’s lining up a tour this year (grab tickets here) after what feels like forever. So is playing with her old friends in the New Pornographers, who just finished a new record.
How does Case view the arc of her career leading to Wild Creatures? All is revealed in this career-spanning interview, which includes detours about a dirt-bike sample, depression, Reservation Dogs, and why she doesn’t want to tell anyone what the (gorgeous) new song “Oh, Shadowless” is about, less it bum them out into oblivion.
I imagine you’ve spent your career relentlessly looking forward to the next statement you can make. Is it strange to look back for once?
Well, it doesn’t really feel weird, because whenever I tour with the band, we’re always looking back: “What songs should we do this tour?” So, there’s always some kind of looking back happening. I still pretty much know everyone I’ve ever recorded with. So, it doesn’t feel weird, really. And the New Pornographers are the same. We just relearned two of our earliest records. So, it feels pretty par for the course right about now.
Regarding that, I’m sure being off the road for a while got your mental gears turning.
Once I was over the first year of it, yeah. For most people I know, the pandemic has mostly been creativity-crushing rather than this unexpected space to make new things in.
Can you tell me how you chose the 22 songs that would comprise Wild Creatures — aside from the new song at the end?
I have a very good relationship with ANTI-, so I worked a lot with [founder] Andy Kaulkin on it. There’s something they can see that I can’t, which is what it seems like from the outside — which I can’t really see, because I’m me. I have thoughts and opinions about things that are from a very narrow perspective, whereas they have input. There are eyes and ears everywhere on their end, whereas I’m one person. So, it was a community effort.
Was it kind of heartbreaking to leave certain tunes off, or were you not too precious about it?
I wasn’t too precious about it, I think. Except for the song “Wild Creatures,” [which] I definitely wanted on there. Not that anyone was fighting me.
What was it about that tune?
I don’t know; I just felt like that one really encapsulated something. That meant something. And yet it was one of those songs, live, where I didn’t feel like people really responded to it. I wanted to give it another chance.
Other people don’t feel that way. But when you’re yourself, you have self-consciousness issues, and that’s definitely one of the things I felt self-conscious about. I was like [in mopey tone], “Why doesn’t anybody like that one?” People might like it just fine! It’s a “does my ass look big in these pants?” situation. I’ll ask a friend sometimes.
I admire bands who play a song I know is good, but the audience never responds to. Guided by Voices is one of my favorite bands, and they have tons of songs like that.
You’re not going to have a good show if there’s no moments for Guided by Voices where they get to please themselves. It’s a give-and-take. It’s not a bad thing. It just is!
Can you talk about “Oh, Shadowless”? That’s a really beautiful song.
That one’s so sad that I can’t even tell you what it’s about. It’ll just bum people out. That’s one of those where I really want people to think about what that means for them.
I really want people to see the little vest in the thrift store that is the song “Oh, Shadowless” and say, “I’m gonna get that! It’s two dollars, and I’m going to try wearing it for a while!” It might become a favorite piece of clothing, or they might just give it back to the thrift store.
What I’m gathering is that there might be a concrete meaning, but you don’t want to ruin the mystery for people.
Yes. And I don’t want to bum people out. Because there’s some of the funnest things I’ve ever done in a song, one of which was: Barbara Gruska did this crazy fucking drum solo, which is one of my favorite things in the world. We also used a sample of this woman revving a dirt bike and riding it in a circle in front of this huge crowd of people underneath that. And that was one of the funnest things in the studio I’ve ever gotten to be part of.
There’s also the incredibly sad element. It’s up to people if they want to get in there. They can insert their own sadness, but I don’t want to ruin the rodeo of Barbara Gruska’s kickass, bull-riding drum solo. And the dirt bike in the solo.
Where did the sample come from?
I found it on YouTube somewhere, but it’s a couple seconds of audio of a dirt bike.
What do you appreciate about Barbara as a musician?
She’s one of the best drummers I’ve met in my entire life. She’s fucking hilarious and smart and lovable. There’s nothing I don’t like about Barbara Gruska. I’ve done some of the funnest touring of my life with her, and I’m really excited that she played on my record.
Give me your favorite Barbara Gruska drum moments, either from your discography or elsewhere.
She has these incredible videos online where she’s kind of doing this call-answer thing with this woman who’s a tap dancer, too. They do this kind of jazz battle with each other. She [also] plays with Foo Fighters. She and her wife, Samantha, are also incredible fucking vocalists. They’re just like these music fountains. There’s nothing they can’t do. But Barbara is a heavy hitter.
It’s funny: Dave Grohl seems to get a lot of really good drummers in his band. And then they don’t play drums [laughs]. Which is really funny. He doesn’t play drums in his band; Barbara doesn’t play drums in his band.
It’s impossible to hear that without thinking of the late, great Taylor Hawkins.
Yeah. There’s been a lot of really bad news in the last couple of months. To which I say: Can you tell the people who are living, that you love, how much you love their music? Because people really love people when they die.
Since this interview is based on looking back, I’d like to get your thoughts on your past albums, from the beginning. How does The Virginian, released back in 1997, strike you today?
Parts of it really bug me. Not to do with any of the other musicians. Only about myself. But it was the first time I ever worked with [producers] Brian Connelly and Darryl Neudorf, which was a really big deal. Because many of my life lessons and greatest musical moments have been with both of those human beings. And I had no idea that I myself would become a producer because of that.
I imagine our irritation is natural, as you’ve obviously developed as a singer and performer over the past 25 years.
I hope so. I definitely feel like I came into my own a couple of records later. And that came with starting to play guitar, I think.
And how about Furnace Room Lullaby, from 2000?
That was a really great time. I remember I did more recording with Darryl Neudorf and Brian Connelly. I was thinking about this the other day: I got to record at this really incredible studio called the Gas Station, which was in Toronto, Ontario, with [multi-instrumentalist and producer] Don Kerr.
It felt like such a family. Canada is such a huge country, and it has one of the smallest populations in the world — for a country of its size, that is. As a musician, you end up knowing all the other musicians in the country. So, it just feels like this really awesome thing — where you can go to the other end of the country and find enough people to work on some things with.
I’m such a huge fan of Don. He tours with Ron Sexsmith a lot, and their work together is always really inspiring to me — watching them work together, and sing harmonies together. And learning that Don had this incredible studio. It’s since been torn down, which is really sad, but I’m so glad I worked there.
Then, two years later, you released Blacklisted.
Blacklisted is the first record I started playing guitar on, and that’s when I started feeling like my songwriting sounded like me. Because there’s so much more control [over] how the song progresses, or happens.
Before you felt like you came into your own, were there certain musicians you liberally borrowed from?
Well, Brian Connelly was literally there. And I was such a fan of his guitar playing and his melody choices. I played a lot with the Sadies, who were a really big deal to me. We came up together, in a way.
Everybody I knew was a musician, so I was influenced and pushed along in that current. And I was in the New Pornographers at the same time, so Dan [Bejar] and Carl [Newman] were huge influences as well. Being in Canada, it was a much healthier band dynamic. Because in America — and in Canada too, but — music can be thought of like sports. There’s a really stupid ranking and rating. Things are based on gender.
It’s just gross. And there’s a whole, “Yeah! We’re gonna get better than them!” I seldom run into people who actually behave that way in real life. Even in America, there’s not a “Competition with this other band!” kind of toxic-masculine sports gamble.
Canada has such a small population. So, if you wanted to be in a band in Vancouver, say — if you found someone to play bass, you would have to accept it’s going to be a potluck. They would be playing bass with probably two other bands as well. But people really helped each other out. If somebody made it on the radio, it wasn’t like [Pouting affect] “Fuck!” It was more like “Yeah! Right on!” That means, “You guys are headlining tours across the middle of Canada! Maybe we’ll do that too!
It’s more healthy. By a lot, I think. And Canadian music was supported by the government, too. You could get grants if you were in a Canadian band because they wanted to spread modern Canadian culture around the world. It’s interesting — and very non-American. Especially in the early and late ‘90s — and now, even.
Now we come to the first one I heard — 2006’s Fox Confessor Brings the Flood.
I think that one’s my favorite.
In what sense?
That one just felt really good. It was a very nice balance of everything there.
Then we have Middle Cyclone, from 2009.
Yep. That was the most cohesive one, for sure. We rehearsed most of it together for a long time and went in with a lot more songs than I usually go in with. I think that’s the one that resonates with people the most.
Are there any songs from your back catalog you feel weren’t given enough of a chance?
[Pauses] No, I just think I have my favorites. Like, “Fox Confessor” is one of my favorites. It’s a weird song with weird chords and a weird progression and weird lyrics. And it satisfies me, you know? But I never felt like people really responded to it live. But I don’t know if that’s real or not. I was definitely a more self-conscious person about that kind of stuff then than I am now.
Then, four years later, you released The Worse Things Get, The Harder I Fight, The Harder I Fight, The More I Love You.
That one was a grind. It sounds better to me than I thought it would. I think the songs are good, but I was so depressed when I made it. There was so much change going on, and no change at the same time. [I remember] just being really sad. And knowing it would eventually pass, or hoping it would, and having to show up for that every day. It was a bit of a grind. It was exhausting.
What was the source of that malaise, if I may ask?
Just personal reasons and probably DNA. Just a long-term depression that lasted a few years.
What happened between that album, in 2013, and Hell-On in 2018?
Maybe I became more of an adult. I found my man-friend, as I call him. Man-friend Jeff. And that was really nice. I never thought I would meet anybody that I would date, let alone live with. When you’re a musician and you tour all the time, you don’t have a great inner life and you don’t meet people. So, that was a surprise, and very nice. That’s a total understatement, but — you know.
If you could tell the person who made The Virginian back in ‘97 anything, what would you tell them? About the music business, or just life as a decades-long performer?
I don’t know what I would tell that person that would change their mind. Because that person was a lot more aggressive and running in the air all the time. I was always running, even when I was still. So, I don’t think anything I could tell that person would get through to them. They’d file it, but I don’t know that they’d hear it until much later.
What are you working on right now? What’s exciting you? What’s percolating?
Doing stuff around this Wild Creatures release, and just finished a New Pornographers record. Just lining up actual touring this year, which is really exciting after such a long time. I’m one of the lucky ones. I got to do a bit of touring here and there with the New Pornographers, and a very small amount as just myself, but I just want to be back at it in a regular way and stop having sleepless nights worrying about losing my house or “will we be able to pay for this or that?” I just want to go back to work so bad. It’s been a very helpless-feeling couple of years, which isn’t news to anyone.
Anything you can share about the New Pornographers record, or just what you continually learn from those guys?
I feel like I get closer to them year after year. We’re very much family. I know them better than I know my blood relations. I know their parents. I know their kids. I really cherish that part of my life.
Even though I’m not a Canadian and couldn’t stay in Canada after my student visa ran out — which I really wanted to do — I still have a semi-Canadian life, in a way. I didn’t have to let go of that part of my life and not have it continue. It wasn’t something that I have to look back on and sigh and feel sad it’s over, because I still get to play with them.
What are you listening to, reading, or watching lately?
I was listening to Screamin’ Jay Hawkins earlier today. I’m getting back into Sinead O’Connor. I’m listening to a lot of different things. And I started watching Reservation Dogs, and I’m really into that. Some of my favorite actors are in it.
Which actors?
One of my favorite actors in the world, Gary Farmer. I love every single time I see him in something. He’s great. Kiowa Gordon’s in it, too; I don’t know how much longer he’s going to be in it. Devery Jacobs is so great. And all the people I don’t know the names of yet are such amazing actors.
It’s so great to see this story — which I’ve never gotten to see before, and it’s not as important to me as it is to young people who are Indigenous to see a story about them, starring themselves, written by themselves, produced by themselves. It could have been this cool for so long! And I’m so sad it took this long to get here! We could have done this a long time ago! And it’s wonderful that it’s happening now.
What about Gary Farmer is specifically magnetic to you?
I’m not sure what it is, but he’s got something! I love when people are regular people. And they’re not… this is going to sound like an insult, though. They’re not your typical Hollywood sexy. They’re people who have distinct features. Maybe a broken nose! I just like regular people.
Is that something that applies to your songwriting a little bit?
Yeah, I think so. Not that I don’t like the beautiful star people, either. I think there’s room for all the people.
Wild Creatures Artwork:
After a Quarter-Century in the Game, Neko Case Is Finally Looking Back
Morgan Enos
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