Laura Stevenson Interview: The Death of Things
Photo by Rachel Brennecke
BY JORDAN MAINZER
The Big Freeze, the new album from singer-songwriter Laura Stevenson, combines the size, emotions, and power of her more rambunctious releases like Wheel and Cocksure with a newfound sense of sparseness, directness, and intimacy. She weaves personal experiences--of self-doubt, depression, and dermatillomania--with universal internal struggles, like the yearning for simplicity in an increasingly complex world. Recorded in her childhood home in Long Island during winter, with bits of strings and bass added later, The Big Freeze isn’t just the first Stevenson album to not feature her backing band The Cans, but the first album that feels like a solo statement.
I spoke with Stevenson over the phone late last month--she had just come from therapy and was getting ready to go on tour with the new tunes. (The band consists of Stevenson on guitar, cello, bass, and drums.) Read our conversation below, in which we talk about the inspiration behind different aspects of the record, revealing things about yourself over the internet, and whether she’d rather be aware and powerless or unaware and powerless. Oh, and catch her tonight at the Beat Kitchen and Saturday at Do Division Street Fest!
Since I Left You: Does the title and cover art of The Big Freeze reference the wintertime when which you recorded it?
Laura Stevenson: Sort of...the cover art was taken when I was having press photos done by this photographer Rachel Brennecke--she’s amazing. It was one of the pictures I thought was really interesting. I was toying with the idea of putting myself on the cover of the record, which I had never done before, and I thought, “Okay, let’s try it.” It kind of just happened. The title of the record--it’s about a lot of different things. The big freeze on a celestial level, but also a winter, death of things level.
SILY: The mood of the record is definitely relatable in the fact that it’s devastating and personal--what you’re going through on the record are sentiments shared by a lot of people. The cover art is relatable in an entirely different way. Fuzzy hats are very warm and welcoming.
LS: It’s super warm and cozy. I thought the colors were really interesting, too. I had never taken a picture where I was looking at the camera in that specific way because I hate having my picture taken. So I just felt like it was really confrontational to myself, too. Usually, I don’t even have my name on the record. Cocksure was the first where my name was on it, which was a big deal to me. Everything else has the artwork without a label.
SILY: What influenced the change in aesthetic of this record? Were you trying to serve the content of the lyrics?
LS: Yeah, and also, I had been playing with different band members. There was a shift in personnel for a little bit. I was also doing a lot of solo touring and writing for just an acoustic record, and because I was so used to it at the time, I was maybe writing without thinking about drums or the grand scale traditional rock band format.
SILY: There are definitely parts that sound huge--you use a lot of vocal overdubs, and on songs like “Big Deep”, your vocals are really upfront. How did you approach the record as a singer?
LS: I love layering vocals. It’s my favorite thing to do because I’m not adept as any instrument as I am at thinking of a thing and making it come out vocally. I really like to make an orchestra of voices. I love doing it on all of my records, but I had to scale it back because there wasn’t room for it in a lot of ways on other records. They were more straightforward pop. This was the perfect medium for me to experiment with that, which is what I love doing the most. I really went for it in terms of layering, like, “Okay, more harmonies, more weird shit!” I got to paint this watercolor picture that was blurry and pretty and I could turn it into whatever I wanted. [Producer/engineer] Joe [Rogers], who I was making the record with, was so on board with it. Every time I wanted to add another track, he didn’t sigh. Sometimes, I feel like me asking for another layer starts to be annoying for some people, but he was so enthusiastic about it. I’d be like, “Let’s do another track,” and he’d say, “Hell ya!” We kind of added as much shit as possible.
SILY: In terms of genre, I heard a lot of country and alt-country influence more than on your other records. Are you a fan of that genre?
LS: For sure. Totally. I like playing with traditional styles but bringing a new life or new ideas into them. I think that’s really interesting. I like alt country and psychedelic, weird, trippy country from the 70′s. People that are doing it now, too. I’m into it.
SILY: Are there individual lines in your songs that stand out to you to where you try to deliver it with a certain chord or type of instrumentation?
LS: There were flourishes that were happening where I was adding pretty strings and then making them go away. The whole end of the first song, “Lay Back, Arms Out”, is supposed to sound like somebody swimming and letting go, and I tried to do that with the instrumentation. Not necessarily chords, but the way things shimmer in and out, I was trying to make it sound like floating. I use the same chords for every song, so that’s my secret. [laughs] I don’t have too many chords, but I used them all for this record. They’re all the ones I know.
SILY: There’s a moment in “Value Inn” where you reveal the title of the song and sing, “And in a Value Inn, I dig at my skin,” on top of a really powerful guitar riff that drives the song into a new level. You’re setting the scene in the first verse, or nobody exactly knows what you’re talking about, and that’s a clarifying moment.
LS: We were practicing that yesterday, and the space situation we have for the shows I’m going to be playing with, that song in particular is so fucking heavy and so powerful. Especially on that second verse. It’s doomy, gloomy, droney, and heavy. That definitely is a powerful moment lyrically and musically.
SILY: Also the final lines of “Hum”, which seem to me to be a summation of the record: “You are burdened by only your dangerous mind.” What were you going for with that line?
LS: That song is a weird internal conversation between two different people and two different versions of myself. That song is difficult--I was doing [a Reddit] AMA the other day, and people had questions about that song in particular. I had a difficult time articulating what it’s about because it’s so ambiguous in who the conversation is between, at all different points, even for myself. I don’t know if it’s me or the other me that’s saying that line. [laughs] But that song is about compulsive behaviors, addictive behaviors, depression, and feeling sorry for myself, but also the part of me that’s trying to get better. I’m gonna have to think about how to intellectualize it, myself. It was this really natural, beautiful thing, but when people ask me about it, I’m so tongue-tied. It’s a convoluted and confusing series of ideas.
SILY: You reference your experience with dermatillomania a lot on the record and revealed it in an article with Talkhouse. Have others reached out to you who have experienced that?
LS: Yeah, and it’s been really beautiful, and that got me through the initial release of that piece I put out on Talkhouse. I was all freaked out about it, and then people were DMing me and sending mail to the band’s email with their personal experiences. It gave it a little less the feeling of throwing something out into the world. Putting something out that is so weird, because at first you think people want to hear it, and then you think, “Who’s really on the internet who cares?” You’re torn between two feelings about it. But it made it smaller, more personal, and human to have small interactions with people who experience the same thing. It’s not something a lot of people are comfortable revealing--it’s embarrassing. It’s personal and scary, and you don’t want people thinking about you in that way. So having other people be glad you’re not ashamed is nice. You still grapple with shame like everybody does. But overall, it feels manageable, in a way.
SILY: I really like the song “Perfect”--and I was reading the interview you did with Fader--and you talk about you and your friend being blissfully unaware of what was going on in the world--wars, etc.. Do you ever look back and wish you were more aware? Or were you glad you were totally unaware?
LS: I don’t know. It’s so hard. Being aware of things makes you feel powerless in a way, but being unaware is powerlessness itself. Neither way do you feel like you can change anything. You feel like giving up. I think I’d rather know, as much as I can. It’s hard to really know, because people with the information are holding their cards pretty close to the chest, so you never truly know what’s going on in the world, but it’s better to know. I don’t know. That’s a great question. There’s beauty in just existing, but is it really existing if you’re not participating in what’s going on in the world and understanding it?
SILY: What have you been listening to, watching, or reading lately that’s caught your attention?
LS: I’m watching some of the new Twilight Zone, which is great. I’m reading this book about codependency that my therapist is making me read. I’m about to start reading A Moveable Feast, which I found at my mom’s house and have never read, and I’m going to Paris so I thought I would. I’m about to listen to my friends Field Mouse, who sent me the first mix of their new record. I’m really excited; they’re such a great band. I got this record from this band called Roar that I’ve started to listen to religiously--Pathetique Aesthetique. It’s a really good record. It came out last year. It’s by this guy Owan Evans, who plays in AJJ.
The Big Freeze by Laura Stevenson
