David Ford is a wondrous gem of evocative, soul-wrenching music-- and last week, we sent the illustrious Belinda over to check him out at the Hotel Cafe in Los Angeles, while we interviewed him from London. Here's what Bel had to say about his show:
David Ford is an artist. I don't heft those words around carelessly, I liked his stuff recorded but being at his live show is like watching Picasso paint. If Picasso could pull pigments from thin air and weave them in and around your heart. At Cafe Hotel, Hollywood, David had a jaded room full of So Cal industry peeps screaming for more. I mean it, size zeros (who get excited about nothing... except maybe Pinkberry) and a hand full of aging industry dudes, who earned their street cred writing for Rolling Stone back in the "Almost Famous Days", were literally screaming for more. He brought the all too brief evening to a crescendo with his Song for the Road. As he sang the lyrics " I'll choose this, I'll choose this, I'll choose this" the space thrummed like a revival meeting. Here's what you should do... check his touring schedule --and drive or run or crawl on bloodied knees and then heal yourself by listening to David Ford live.
Earlier the same day in London, after doing a parody of a mobile phone commercial ("Can you hear me now?") and discussing the wonders of Pink's in Los Angeles, David Ford and I sat down to a lovely phone interview to discuss his music, collaborations and self-inflicted cruelty.
FAB: So I absolutely adore your music--
DAVID FORD: Oh, thank you!
FAB: You're welcome! A friend of mine gave me your first album when I was going through a rough patch, and I love how there's so much delicateness and emotional excavation in your songs. How did you first get involved with music?
D: Just kind of as an enthusiast, really. For very similar reasons, I was amazed at how music seemed to tap into thoughts and feelings. It seemed to make a lot of sense of things that maybe were quite difficult, or abstract thoughts seemed to be fairly eloquently nailed by a good song in a way that other kinds of art forms never really worked for me. When I was a teenager I just found that music and song in particular just meant so much more to me than many other things that were going on in the entire world. Because I found music and song resonated with me so much I thought I could probably give it a go, and try to convey the same way I felt about it, and try to put that forward to other people as well. That's kind of the ongoing challenge for me.
FAB: Your songs seem very confessional. How do you feel it helps you process the stuff that's going on in your life?
D: Not at all, really. That's not what I do it for. I consider that to be very self-indulgent behavior. I don't write songs as any kind of helpful process to me, to deal with things. I'm a pretty well balanced individual and I'm actually quite good at dealing with things as they come up. Songwriting for me is not-- I'm not the guy in the songs who maybe is a little emotionally fraught. I occasionally am emotionally fraught, and I like to think I have a certain understanding of the concept of emotional fraughtism. But that's not to say that's where I am, or where I as an individual am writing from. I prefer to consider myself a student of human behavior rather than a specimen.
FAB: Got it. So the songs are more about fictional characters, or things you've seen out in the world.
D: Yeah, I mean it's kind of that. There are always elements I can draw. I would hope to never write about something that was entirely out of my element. I always try to have something that I have at least an understanding of in some small measure or another. Sometimes it will be observations about people I know, and other times I'll write things that will at least be based on myself and my own experiences. But mostly, it's like if you spoke to someone who writes novels, you wouldn't assume that every character in the novels is themselves. You always have to put a whole lot of yourself into whatever you do creatively in order to make it really true, but I think there's a lot more to it than that. I think there's a lot more dramatic technique in songwriting than people maybe imagine there is.
FAB: I just saw your video for your single [Go To Hell] with the woman burying you in the ground. Can you tell me a little bit more about where the idea for that came from?
D: Essentially when it comes to making films the first consideration is what's the most horrible thing that we can do to me. We have one video that's me being slapped in the face over and over again, which was very fun to do. We thought we'd step it up this time and bury me alive, and I think next time there's going to be some kind of drowning involved. A feat of cruelty is our go-to stock video idea.
FAB: [laughs] Are these your ideas, or are people inflicting this cruelty on you?
D: It's generally self-inflicted cruelty. The cool thing about how I've been doing things up to now is I've been able to maintain a level of autonomy. Things like making videos or hiring people to work in a creative area have very much been left up to me. All the videos have been made by myself and friends rather than inviting treatments from directors and paying a fortune in studio costs. I kind of like to keep it creative rather than business, and making videos becomes a fun thing I do with friends that we put some thought and no money into.
FAB: The song, Of Whoredom And Falconry, that you did with Duke Special, is one of my favorite songs of all time.
D: Is it now? Good grief. If you knew where it came from you probably wouldn't think that. It was written in about five minutes and it was recorded in about an hour and a half. We kind of did it and forgot about it instantly. It showed up on this little charity record we did it for, and people seemed to really like it. It was never a big build for the two of us, it was just something we did for some fun.
FAB: I'm guessing the title was random.
D: The title was a mistake. That was a working title before the songs had any words or idea behind anything. On the original musical track we were collecting these silly words about ancient English practices of heraldry and falconry and coats of arms-- I don't know where the whoredom came from. It was just kind of a silly joke title, but when we actually finished the track that was still what was written on the file. When it went off to be processed and mastered and put on the record that was still the title that it had and we never thought to change it. The first we knew of it having that title was when the record actually came out, and it was a mild embarrassment, but quite some humor.
FAB: It kind of seems to fit. Some of the best stuff comes out of the smallest amount of time, because I can listen to that song for days on repeat.
D: Really? It's funny, sometimes, you can just get it right the first time. Sometimes you can pore over things for days, weeks, years, months. That's one of the great things about music, there's no right or wrong way of doing things. Anything that works is what works.
FAB: How do you like the collaborating process compared to doing stuff on your own? How was doing stuff with Duke Special different than doing stuff for your own albums?
D: I hate collaboration. I kind of don't do them and won't do them. Duke Special's a little different because I know him very well and he's a good friend. But the collaborative process in that was essentially-- I can't co-write. I don't co-write at all. So the writing on that track is pretty much entirely his work. I suggested a couple of geographical inputs-- the basis of the song is Lewes and Belfast, our respective hometowns. My writing contribution to that song was utterly minimal. Co-writing a song, I just can't do, it feels like diluting to me. When it comes to songwriting other people's input would make me a bit uncomfortable. I kind of always feel like I know how it should be and if somebody else puts their slant on it I probably won't think that's how it should be. I love songs that other people write, I'm not saying that I think I'm better than everyone else. Other people write great songs and occasionally I write great songs, I just don't think I can do that in partnership with someone else. I wouldn't know how to do it.
FAB: Well, when you work with other people there has to be a lot of compromise, which is a different process.
D: That's the whole point. If you have to compromise to get something done, there's no way you can be uncompromised. Because I'm a very compromising individual, I'd end up just doing everything they wanted to do.
FAB: So it's self-preservation.
D: The only way I can avoid completely compromising and doing it someone else's way is to have absolutely no one else involved, which is kind of why I write alone, and often record alone. It's not because I'm a control freak-- it's because if I let other people be involved I would shrink and have no involvement at all.
* * *
Beautiful things are coming out of that solo process, and you should check out David's tour schedule and pick up his new album Songs For The Road so you don't miss out.
Robin Grey's songs evoke long dusty road trips, wailing harmonicas and train tracks. The lovely London folksinger has just released his first LP entitled Only The Missile, and this morning his These Days was the exact straight-ahead-pushing theme to set me off on the road. If you need walking, moving, or travelling let's-get-this-show-on-the-road music, Robin's folk harem of musical instruments will set you well on your way.
After posting The Black Cab Session for The Kooks, we noticed some mp3s miraculously pop into our inbox from the lovely band-- and from their support act, the Morning Benders, which we rather like. And I thought, what better present for your Friday? No need to say thank you, your love is thanks enough. Well, your love, and any toast you have lying around. Mm, toast.
This video clip of Grizzly Bear performing their new song "While You Wait for the Others" on Conan O'Brien the other night has been making the rounds, and it's easy to see why. The tune seems to remind everyone of something different. For me, it's a crazy combination of The Jimi Hendrix Experience-meets-Roxy Music-meets-roots reggae. All of which I happen to love (don't judge me!). Not that I'm saying it's derivative--the song and the absolutely golden performance by the band both have a tingly vibe that's at the same time both comfortingly familiar and uniquely their own. The best things always do.
From an e-mail last night, with thanks to Jason, who made me think to write it.
I took a taxi home from my friend's house tonight. Getting in, without thinking, I let out a half-sigh, half-cry, this involuntary release of joy, because he was playing Nina Simone. The driver's a quiet 50-something year old guy. He's not the chatty type, just a quick smile and looking for the address. But suddenly, we're talking about Nina, and he's excited that I love her too - there's no flush of words, but you can see it in his face, the way everything becomes filled with movement and intent, even before he says something, even if he doesn't say much. Have you heard...? Oh, she ...!
And then he asks about Sinnerman. I nod, and he flips the track. It starts, and he jokes that I'll be well home before it finishes.
We drive down long, darkened roads. Nina's voice fills the car, pushing over every chopped piano line, everything a push and pulse.
When we reach my house, the song has quietened. It's the lull, where everything fades to a single piano line and hand clap, a false ending. I look at the radio - it's not just her voice, I say, it's how she sings - she's carving it out of herself, wrenching it out of her very centre. He nods, and puts his palm to his heart. It pulls at your chest, he says.
We sit in silence, listening. He knocks the cab fare off. The song builds again, and we sit in the dark, the light spilling out of the porches on our left, and the orange glow of streetlights overhead. A cab pulls into the street in front of us - it's a narrow street, and the driver can't get past us, and for a minute I feel awkward - should I leave? I ask. Sure it's only Stranmillis, he says, don't mind them. I burst into a laugh, and he does too - it's a rival cab company - and the song bursts too, alive and straining and urgent. We sit in the half-light, the engine rumbling gently, and let it play.
When it's over, I shake his hand. We smile, but don't really say anything; I thank him, but it's like I don't want to throw too many words around. It shouldn't be stripped bare. I thank him, leave the car, and step into the night. Every part of my heart is stretching as I open my front door.
I think the brightest parts of my life, the tallest and strongest and most deeply true, will be shaped by music. Sometimes, the shape is a map, outlines and gradients and a little marker for where I am now, a trail of colour for where I was before. The shape of past songs cuts a dotted line through my life. Sometimes, it's a pounding out, an interruption to argue and open things up, to open me up. Songs can shock me into wakefulness like nothing else can. Songs can get through. They shape me by force. They shape me by interjection.
And sometimes, just sometimes, a song will shape me by carving out the space for a moment like that. Sometimes, they let me sit outside my house with a stranger, and listen to a woman sing about desperation and salvation. I sit in the shape of the song, the shape the song has opened out, and I can breathe.
It's a song about the number eight, from the kids who used to bring us MST3K. It is the word eight sung in various languages. It cheers me up to no end. (Thanks, Bill!)
People have been talking about this for *ages*. Finally, some of the Scarlett Johansson/ Tom Waits covers have surfaced, and you can listen to it with your own tiny little ears. I'll skip the introductions: just press play. (via)
UPDATE: The stream has been removed. But! there are still some places you can go to hear it... (Hint, hint.)
DOUBLE UPDATE : Listen to more tracks over at Spinner.
You're a cab driver. Going about your normal business. And here comes some fellas with guitars, cameras, the works: "Hey cabbie, would you fancy a free show in the back of your cab as we drive across London?" They ask you. And you say yes, of course, because you're made of awesome, and then the videos end up on Black Cab Sessions, where everyone can appreciate their awesome-ticity. (When are they gonna start doing London bus concert sessions? Tube sessions? I want, I want.) (Thanks Belinda!)
I was graced enough to be able to go to a taping of the Jonathan Ross show last week (I'm told one can get tickets through the BBC, if you chance to be in London) and got to see Radiohead from the 6th row, for free, performing a set of two songs, and twice, at that.
Thom Yorke sounded like an angel. God bless that man.
(Added: Check out the Holy Fuck remix of Nude: Very good. Thanks Jer!)
Maybe it's the winter stubbornly nested in our bones, but we all seem to have simultaneously fallen into some hibernating state. Perhaps this spring-laden video by Björk will rouse us from our slumber and back into action. And if you haven't seen it, the wonderful Stereogum has put out a Tribute to Björk's Post, with songs by assorted indie artists. Worth checking out.
I've been having reoccurring dreams about Jeff Buckley. In these dreams, he's playing new material, and no one but me seems to know the handsome devil is dead. I've made jokes while awake that Jeff Buckley must have it rough; his ghost is playing the dream circuit and no one remembers any of his shows when they wake up.
Since making these jokes, Jeff Buckley has since shown up in my dreams to talk about how hard it is to tour the dream circuit.
Yes, odd, I know. But it's sent me on a little excavation, finding some documentaries on Google Video, and then realizing that while many people know who he is in the States, he is a sort of god in the UK. Ive worn my copy of Grace out, but he's had release after release here, and I just recently listened to Live at Sin-é, which is intense and amazing. His love of Nina Simone comes out way more on these live tracks, as does the sheer magic of the man's voice. (Listen to Be Your Husband. I have just fallen in love with that song through Jeff.)
Put these tracks on when you go to bed. Let me know if Jeff plays any more new material in your sleep. If you see me in the crowd, come say hi.
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