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Seattlest Interview: Susan Werner

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We were first turned onto Susan Werner back in our New York days when she played a free show at the World Trade Center. We were broke and all about free things, and we had a nice healthy respect for the sort of music the show sponsor WFUV felt like sharing with the world. We were impressed then by her candid poetics and a particularly lovely tune called "Time Between Trains" that stuck with us quite a while.

Now, six years later, Werner released a songbook-style album called The Gospel Truth, which is a collection of agnostic gospel hymns. Theoretically, we thought, hell yeah! In reality, the album actually delivers with great snarky tunes like "Probably Not" ("Is there a God above, is there eternal love? Probably not...") and more thoughtful, introspective tunes about agnosticism like "Sunday Mornings."

As you can probably imagine, it's pissing a lot of people off and winning Werner a new crowd of converts. She'll be playing songs from that album this Sunday at the Triple Door, but in the meantime, you can learn more by reading on...

What’s been going on since The Gospel Truth came out? Have you been on the road?

Yeah, I’ve been running around the US and Canada and finding that audiences cry, laugh, some people even get up and walk out.

What do you think they expected when they came?

Well to me, this project seems to be representative of where the country is as a whole with religion. Some people…it’s been fascinating to take this thing around the United States. Oregon, which is the least church-going state in the union, thought this was just all so cute. This was a nice little toy project [I was] doing, and it’s all so charming. The Oregonians didn’t seem to think there was much at risk with this project. The South and the Midwest, I have found, respond very strongly to this project. Again, people feel like this speaks to their experience, or they want none of it. There’s always a couple that just gets upset. I just watch them, you can see from the first song, they’re looking at each other like, "What? This is intolerable. This is irreverent and horrible."

I actually had a couple that stormed out of my show in Virginia last Saturday night and they said to the promoter on the way out, "Heathens!" [laughs] Heathens! And I feel two ways about this. One, it’s sort of a badge of honor that you’ve actually said something so sharply that people react strongly to it, but the bad news is they didn’t stay for the rest of the show, for the full presentation of these songs. The point being that these are songs of doubt and faith parked right next to each other, which is how I experience the church and how so many Americans experience the church: something to be inspired by, but also something that some of us distrust. The best songs on this project put the music of faith and lyrics of doubt both right in one song. And that discomfort, that yearning alongside that discomfort is, it seems to me, America’s relationship with the Christian church.

Did you expect this sort of reaction, or were you just sort of hoping people heard it?

I didn’t know what would come back to me when I put out this record, but I did know that I wanted to approach gospel music from the perspective of a non-believer. I suspected that either I was a crazy genius in doing this, or I was just crazy. Either it would be uniquely successful and wonderful or it would just fall flat and collapse because it was too strange an idea. I’ve found that there were so many more people than I could ever have suspected that have had the exact same struggles with the church and the same attachment to the church. If I didn’t care about the church, I never would’ve written this project. I just would’ve moved to Eugene with the rest of them.

Has there been a marked difference in how Americans react and how Canadians react?

Yeah Canadians…they’re so sweet. They’re like our little country cousins. They’ve been interested in this project as part of their effort to understand the crazy Americans, how do they tick, what part does religion play in the American psyche. We are strange to them. I had many of them come up to me at some festivals this summer and say to me, "Now I understand a little better my cousins in Buffalo." [laughs] Really they said something exactly like that. "We go on vacation down there, we love your country, but this part of it is fascinating and strange."

Well, it’s become so much a part of our International face. A lot of our politicians now, even the Democratic field, have to answer the church questions, you know, and [they] have to come up with some sort of statement of faith in order to be taken seriously as a representative.

Yeah, however I do think there’s an interesting shift in the field of candidates this time around. This time it’s the Democrats putting their faith forward. Where on the other side, you have folks like Giuliani and Fred Thompson who just said the other day that he only goes to church occasionally. McCain is no model Christian. And I think that’s refreshing. I think it’s an interesting shift, I think it also shows how the power of the symbols and iconography of Christianity take up a broad middle of the country. It’s not just explicitly the domain of the Right. That people talk about faith and conscience and character, values and they use Christian terms to describe those things, whether they lean left or right. To me the church is a permanent part of the American landscape, as permanent as the Grand Canyon and the redwoods. It’s here to stay. It’ll be here a generation from now, it’ll be here five generations from now. And I think to befriend the church and its turns and how it holds sway is to accept the country you’re living in, accept the terrain. It goes with the weather, right. If this is going to be the weather, you may as well learn how to drive in the snow.

Since [releasing this record], have you been writing anything new, or are you still focused on these songs right now?

No, I have writing projects going on. Whichever one comes together first, becomes the next recording. I’ve become interested in the blues. The blues offer an outlet for frustration, I like that. You hit a point in midlife where you run into a few limitations, and it comes as a terrible shock. You know, your own mortality, the limitations of your talent, the limitations of money, how much money can buy you, how much you’re making, how much money you will make and if you make much money, the limitations of how much satisfaction the money can bring. Money and mortality, those are always there in the blues. And, sure, "My baby done left me." We’ve all heard "My baby done left me," but it’s something about mortality and money, lots of blues songs about money. And I have a feeling we’re headed toward a recession of some kind. The credit crunch, the real estate market, bankruptcy and foreclosures...a lot of people feel like they’re living on the edge. [There’s] no sense of security in this country, I mean retirement, healthcare…these are all ongoing concerns for most people. But then there’s the fact that those are sort of lofty terms. I mean "sub-prime" is easy to rhyme, but…[laughs]

You did just there.

[laughs] Yeah, but something fundamental about concerns about money and mortality…it’s bad news. The blues is there when you’re feeling bad about these things.

So is that something you think you’ll do—another songbook sort of project?

Well, yeah, maybe. We’ll see. One of the challenges about the blues, personally, for me, is to render authentic performance, to write an authentic song in that tradition. The blues catalog as we know it was written by men and women who never finished high school and suffered from a variety of physical ailments and hard lives, frankly. So how do you sing the blues if you live on the 11th floor of a high-rise? [laughs] I have to figure out how to do that and make it believable, so that’s one of the challenges of this project, and I don’t know if I’m going to succeed with it. It’s one of the things that’s interesting me right now.

Another thing is writing a show, a musical for the stage. It’s a lot of work, like writing two records worth of material. It takes years to do it. But I think it’d be thrilling to bring characters you care about to life. To help them express something essential, something transcendent. The theater’s wonderful and the theater’s a place that rewards songwriters who can put 12, 15, 20 songs together with a common theme. The music doesn’t become such that it’s all about one track, one porned-up, hyped-up three-minute scream-a-thon. Unless you have the six-pack abs to match, it’s almost impossible to compete in the world of pop music. But the world of theater rewards a songwriter’s ability to assemble 15 tunes that all run together. And also theater has an historical component. You can bring historic characters to life, it can take you to another time. I like those challenges. I’m interested in those types of things.

Do you think you’d write the whole thing, or you’d get a playwright [with whom to collaborate]?

One of the wonderful things about writing a show, composing music for a show, is that the idea for the show, most of it, comes from someone else and somewhere else. You don’t have to generate all the content yourself. There’s a character in, let’s say I was going to write a musical about…let me think for a moment who would be fun to write about…Gertrude Stein’s not a lot of fun, but there’s been some treatment of her life…but let’s say Simone de Beauvoir, let’s try that. Let’s say I’m going to write a musical about Simone de Beauvoir. Well, the great thing is that she already lived, all this stuff already happened to her. I don’t have to come up with the character, I don’t even have to come up with the events, necessarily. And a book writer, someone who has...that expertise, puts that character’s life and the episodes of their life in an order that has some sort of plot to it, direction to it…a trajectory to it, a dramatic arc. As a composer, I can contribute some ideas about that arc and what episodes stand out to me, but my job is really to write songs that move the story along and express that character in larger-than-life terms. And that’s a really interesting talent to me. I go to shows and make notes on how the story moves, how the music moves the story along and what succeeds to me, what doesn’t succeed.

So, changing the subject, this [interview is for a blog that’s] about Seattle. So I’m wondering, do you look forward to coming to Seattle when you come here? Are there things here you like to do?

I was just there at the Gig Harbor festival in August. I have friends who live in southwest Seattle. I took the ferry to Vashon Island on a beautiful afternoon. It’s so wonderful, so beautiful. I’m not the first person to say that, I realize, but I get it. I get why you move there and stay there. I get it. So Seattle is glamorous, it’s physically glamorous. But, it’s also repressed in a kind of charming way, which makes me love Seattle. People don’t honk their cars. They just sit there and take it, which makes me love them, because it makes me wonder about the secret lives of the people of Seattle. They just sort of grit their teeth and smile. They have a lot of coffee and they seem really happy, but underneath it, they have separate feelings. And that’s interesting to me. That’s the kind of place writers want to hang out.

Well it’s different…I grew up in the South, which is a different sort of thing. Down there it’s Southern hospitality that comes from a different place: the grin and bear it attitude.

Well that’s why I think this blues record is going to be successful in Seattle, because it’s not a culture that encourages you to express frustration.

Well, yes but generally, people only have the blues here from October to [spring].

Oh that’s right, well that’s when I’ll come back with the blues project, remind me of that. Don’t come to the pier in the summer, don’t be stupid. Wait until it rains.

So when you come to Seattle, are you going to be solo? Last time you were here, you were solo but your band was stuck somewhere else.

Yeah that’s right, the bass player…no, we’re planning on flying them out. But, to the people of Seattle: you’re way the hell out there. Let’s be frank about it. You are way the hell out there. If there was some way that we could just jigsaw out Montana, Idaho, both of the Dakotas, just push Washington closer into Illinois….I don’t know that anybody would miss those other states, by the way [laughs]. I’m kidding, but it is far out there. So right now, my manager’s working on flights for my bass player from Boston. Oh, that’s far out there. I’m working on bringing other musicians, but you’ve got to understand. You guys are the last outpost out there.

Well, is there anything else you want people out here to know?

What else can I say about Seattle? Cheer the hell up, that’s one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Let it out. You should roll the windows down and shout more. You should shout at the physical beauty. You’d enjoy the natural beauty of Seattle if you just shouted more. More shouting and more car honking and then you’ll be able to really see the Olympic Mountains.

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