J.D. McPherson
When the Scene gets J.D. McPherson on the phone the morning after the Grammys, the throwback rock 'n' roller sheepishly admits he neither watched the show nor perused any of the many 'Ye-Bey-and-Beck think pieces proliferating in its wake. But whatever his reasons for not tuning in, they're certainly not based in some wholesale rejection of contemporary popular music. Hell, he's co-written and toured with a guy who performed on the telecast — Eric Church. McPherson's new album, Let the Good Times Roll, also boasts an eerie doo-wop tune he wrote with multi-Grammy-winning Black Keys singer-guitarist Dan Auerbach.
Considering McPherson cut his first album, Signs & Signifiers, in the attic studio of his upright bassist Jimmy Sutton — where with period-perfect specificity of their microphone-placement techniques the pair strived to capture the same rhythmic attack Cosimo Matassa achieved in his New Orleans studio J&M in the 1950s — McPherson could be reasonably sure the early rock purists in his native scene would appreciate his attention to detail. But the real surprise is how much the 30-something Oklahoman gets off on warping the form with weird ideas and a cannily wild attack. Good Times is McPherson's second album and his first since becoming a major draw in a roots scene where high-fidelity faithfulness to old-school technology matters less than flashes of originality.
In advance of his appearance at Mercy Lounge tonight, which has NOT been canceled, McPherson talks to the Cream about playing for purists, writing with Eric Church, getting experimental and a whole lot more. Check it out after the jump.
You began to dig into early rock ‘n’ roll, starting with Buddy Holly, around the age that that music found its original audience—in your teens. That’s not necessarily how that’s happened for music fans who grew up after the ‘50s. Do you look at it as youth music?
Yeah, for sure. Historically that’s what it was. Teenagers had their own music. I remember Lux Interior from the Cramps always talking about that, you know, that he plays teenagers’ music. It’s really more about the joie de vivre aspect of it that appeals to me, and to many other people. It’s the same reason why teenagers are also attracted to punk rock. They’re idling-mode emotional state is that of frustration and wanting some action out of life. That’s why that happens. Same for the original stuff. It’s exciting, it’s raw, it’s primitive, but at the same time, what I also liked about it was that it had a great deal of finesse, and in some cases it was pretty sophisticated. Nobody really tries to make it grow up, I guess. You shouldn’t try to make it grow up. You should let it be visceral and wild and fun.
You’ve said on a number of occasions that you really embrace the idea that what you’re doing is party music, dance music.
Yeah, I think it’s the best dance music. And I don’t mean going and taking lessons and learning how to dance with a partner. I mean just the ultimate spazz-out music. Because I can’t dance. If somebody asked me to dance, I wouldn’t know what to do. I just spazz out. And it feels good. It’s really feel-good music for sure.
Your approach to music involves a high level of attention to detail, even a connoisseurship or studiousness in your techniques and use of gear and songwriting idioms. Those details weren’t taken nearly as seriously in their original context. The music was looked at as wild and dangerous and potentially corrupting to the kids. How do you hold studiousness in tension with untamed energy?
That’s a really good question. I’ll tell ya, I think there’s a couple of things happening there, both of which I think are important to embrace. One is that when that vocabulary was happening, you had sort of two schools. You had the recording artists playing with session musicians who had come out of jazz and really had chops, were really seasoned musicians, like the New Orleans guys. And then you also had teenagers in garages that were being recorded. So it was like both schools of thought were happening simultaneously, and both accepted as, you know, rock ‘n’ roll music. I think that’s why it’s really appealing maybe, because it’s not as fastidious as jazz. I love jazz, but I certainly haven’t committed my life to playing jazz guitar. I know enough to play a couple of comp chords here and there. That’s an intellectual’s music. Thelonious Monk is an intellectual. It’s having a little bit of finesse, but it’s also perfectly accepted—accepted but expected—that it will be a little tiger-by-the-tail. We’re really talking about three chords and a four-four beat. It’s like as simple as it can be, and should be.
You made Signs & Signifiers for what you've described as a vintage purist scene, and within a couple of years you were on the Americana radar and Rounder had re-released the album. What does it take to please a vintage purist audience versus an Americana audience?
I can't say that you don't think about those things, but you shouldn't think about those things. I had worried that the second record would not appeal to the purists, because there's a lot of weirdo, bizarre stuff on that new record, in comparison especially. But it seems to be going over OK. You never know. You just have to say, "Well, these are the songs that I came up with, and this is the production style." ... If you're lucky, people will respond in a positive way.
In the five years between your first album and this one, you often predicted that you were going to get more experimental. So what are the most experimental moves you've made here?
There’s fuzz baritone guitar everywhere. There’s some in [‘You Must Have Met Little] Caroline?”. There’s some in “Bridgebuilder.” And that’s really kind of a nod to ‘60s Nashville, because there were a couple of country & western songs that had this fuzz thing that happened, which is so crazy to me, that those things were allowed to be on a pop-country record. It also gave me [the idea] that those two worlds aren’t so separate, like, “Wow, some of this insane stuff can be injected everywhere.” That and lots and lots of plate reverb, which is now my fetish. I don’t wanna ever make a record without it. It turns everything into space music, you know? It’s just like a tonic that you’re pouring on a song. … Probably the most experimental thing that happened was the drum breakdown on “Bridgebuilder.” And that’s also my favorite moment on the record.
In your track-by-track notes, you described the song “Mother of Lies” as a knowing, tongue-in-cheek use of superstitious blues imagery. What difference does an intention like that make to the final product?
I guess maybe art school training won’t rub off after a few years. Let me give you an example: Marcel Duchamp’s [porcelain urinal sculpture] “Fountain.” He takes something that already exists, and he changes its meaning. I’m very interested in language anyway, all kinds of language. I like the idea of taking something that’s established and twisting it a little bit. I love the groove on “Mother of Lies.” That’s probably the purest example of rhythm & blues on the record, as far as the playing and the recording. But the words are kinda silly. … A lot of people really like that song, but I think that might be sort of a remnant. That was one of the first songs that came out after the first record. The most interesting thing to me about that song lyrically is that it’s playing with that really superstitious language, like you were talking about.
You mentioned art school. A few years ago you were teaching art to middle school students. In the years since, have you had any of your former students show up at shows?
Absolutely. When I was made an advisor, I had a really outstanding group of kids that were, at that time, eighth graders. There’s almost no redeeming qualities to be being an eighth grader. It’s, like, really confusing, because you’re not a baby anymore, but you’re also not really a teenager yet. You’re against everything and you don’t know why. I was lucky to have this really intelligent, cool group of kids, and they also had really cool families. Most of those kids, I see them pop up at shows. Most of them have gone on to college at this point, so we’ll see them at shows in Chicago and Austin and stuff. I love that. And I love seeing that one kid studying to be a screenwriter. I love seeing that they’re doing what they wanna do, despite the pressure to become a doctor or something.
"Bridgebuilder" is a song you wrote with Dan Auerbach. I also read that you did some writing with Eric Church. What came of those songs?
Eric invited me to do a little bit of writing. He had said some really nice things about the first record in the press. I think it was just a matter of [me] saying, "Thanks for saying nice things." And [him saying], "Cool. Hey, let's get together and write." That was a really prolific day. He's a really nice guy, and we wrote three songs. I learned so much from him, because he was a professional songwriter for a long time. He has almost like an athletic ability to make songs happen. I had a few ideas that I threw at him. While I'm trying to clumsily explain my ideas, he's nodding his head silently and playing the guitar, patiently waiting for me to stop talking, and then starts singing a song back to me based on what I've been talking about. He's really good. There's a couple of songs that we wrote, one of which I'm really proud of. It's been a matter of time, not being able to demo it. It wouldn't be something that I would do. And I think he wrote 120-something songs for his most recent record, and it didn't make the cut for him. I really like it, so who knows what'll happen with that. We're doing some shows with Eric this year. He's just a really, really kind, nice guy. I respect him so much.
Besides playing with Eric Church, you’ve opened for Bob Seger, Dave Matthews Band and Queens of the Stone Age. Some of those are less surprising pairings than others. It’s not obvious to me that having your band open for QOTSA or DMB would actually work. So how has it worked?
Well, we did one show with Queens, and it was a big one, at the Forum in L.A. It was awesome, dude. Their audience was really cool to us. We just did our thing and they dug it. A lot of that also has to do with the approval by the host. Josh [Homme] obviously did a lot of press in our favor leading up to the show. It was kind of like, “Here. I like this a lot. I want you to know about it.” That helps. Dave Matthews actually brings his opener acts out on stage and introduces them personally to the audience, which is a really amazing thing. One of the weird ones that I wish could’ve happened, and I still would do it in a heartbeat, was we were trying to get some shows with The Specials. I would’ve absolutely done anything to make that happen, but scheduling-wise we couldn’t make it happen. I’m really proud of the fact that such a diverse group of musicians that are well established have asked us out as support. I try to do ‘em whenever we can make it happen, especially when audiences are open and simpatico to learning about a new band. It doesn’t always work that way. But it’s really great when you can pick up some new folks, and maybe your folks will pick up on something new too.
