Interview with Kelly Joe Phelps, part 2 -- 24 August 1998
P: how did your church upbringing affect the kind and content of the
music that you're playing now?
K: it's tricky, I suppose, because in some ways I probably can't
identify what affect or influence it has had because you would think
that a lot of that would end up being internalized to the point where
it was unrecognizable in and of itself. some things I could pull out
and look them individually, and in may have to do with growing up
around a respect for it, more than just the idiom, a respect for
approaching one's life that way. which would spill over into the music
if part of the motivation for the music was expressing your life in an
honest fashion and being willing to let it all be seen.
P: we talked about that before, how did you put it, that the country
blues are about real life.
K: yeah, and I suppose for me the deal with the church upbringing, and
the idea that growing up around it and having it be part of the memory
I had before I realized I even had a memory. at least for me it
becomes a built in comfort factor in dealing with the issue of
[religion] at all. which for other people who adopt it later in
life, I would think the potential would be for it feeling more like an
attempt at accomplishing something by weaving religion into it, as
opposed to it being as much a part of you as the fact that you owned a
pair of PF Flyers.
[laughter]
P: I can really relate to that, in the sense that it's so ingrained,
how could you imagine your life without it?
K: certainly not the point of complacency!
P: no, but more the language and the idiom.
K: yeah, that's a good way of saying it.
P: you used the word 'idiom,' and you described your respect for
religion as being 'more than idiom.' what did you mean by that?
K: I'm trying to describe how religion, or anything, can transcend what
it is on paper or as a school of thought.
P: like it might actually be real?
K: yeah! [laughter] idiom, to me, is always more about the
adopted or accepted practice or belief system. But there's a
transcendence there, that growing up is a part of you before you even
know what you're experiencing.
P: I'm always wary of asking people directly about that experience of
transcendence---that seems too personal to me. so let me ask you
something that comes near it. when the host introduced you at the
last show I saw, he admitted that though he was cynical, your music got
through that to him. you've admitted to being pretty cynical,
which I think is symptomatic of our generation.
K: oh yeah, definitely.
P: what is it that's happened for you in your life that's allowed you
to sing with such honesty and authenticity about something you could so
easily be cynical about? and related to that, why sing 'I wanna roll
away the stone"?
K: that line is sort of the definitive short answer to that question,
so I'll start with that. I want to continue to see clearer and
understand better--everything--about making it through life. and
certainly about religion. the cynicism I experience related to religion
has everything to do with people, and nothing to do with what the
spiritual life may contain. couple that with my innate sense that
nobody, including myself, is really getting that close to it. and
there infinite amounts of lessons to be learned, experienced, missed
and ignored. all those things come down the pike, and I become cynical
about humans educating other humans in nonhumanality.
[big laughter]
P: there's a high-falutin' sentence if I ever heard one. sort of
like the blind leading the blind?
K: that's what it seems like to me. but the cynicism stops there. as
soon as we get past bones and flesh and blood, i'm not cynical at all,
I don't think.
P: have you ever been?
K: oh yeah, that's part of the growth. I may be again as well. but that
also is something I've embraced over the years. that because it's a
recurring experience, I've come around to the idea that I ought not to
question the experience and certainly not view it as a negative force
or influence, because that has brought me around to understanding more.
not being afraid to ask the questions. that relates back to direct
experiences I've had with pastors, and ministers and church members, at
least the ones I've been around and who've made an impact, would get to
the point where they weren't willing to ask questions and wouldn't
admit of themselves that they even asked questions of themselves, it
seemed to me. and anyone who was willing to ask the questions was
blacklisted and prayed over.
P: like 'help them Lord, they've fallen away.'
K: yeah, it's almost inane in a way. if religion is remotely what it
appears to be, then there's no way that asking the question is going to
get in the way. because [chuckles] you're dealing with something so
much more powerful and majestic than we are or our minds are or our
intelligence levels are.
P: it reminds me of last night, when I was at church and the preacher
claimed that the idea of God is an impossibility. I told him afterwards
that I like that--asking questions that don't have answers. it seems
like a Way.
K: Right. I think I've strayed from your question. get me back into it.
P: you said you have felt cynical about the whole deal sometimes.
what's helped you? what concrete experiences have you had that have
helped you get past that?
K: most recently I suppose seeing the reaction, by and large, to 'roll
away the stone.' when I put that together and it came out, I felt like
I was running a much larger risk than ultimately I was.
P: why did it feel like a risk?
K: because it was something I was doing on my own. and I knew full well
the degree to which religion or gospel music or things about god,
played a part on the record. and knowing it was part of the tradition
yet being concerned that it was to the extreme and that a lot of people
may come across it without knowing the tradition or giving a damn about
it. I thought if anything was going to sink the record it was going to
be that. as it turns out, there are amazing amounts of people who
share the same kind of experiences or same kinds of thoughts, from
rabid church-goers to people who've never set foot in one. but I
suppose because it is such a major part of getting through life, I
suppose everyone is making up or coming up with ideas or decisions or
is experiencing something that makes them at least look in that
direction, and they seem to pick up the fact that I'm doing the same
thing--not telling anyone what to do, but just saying, this is what's
rolling through my head. it's important to me, it's an emotional
experience for me.
P: what do you think it is about the idiom that allows people who
aren't a part of the tradition to connect with the music? you're
a part of this tradition, you've consciously chosen it, although I
would suspect that sometimes it feels like it chose you.
K: right.
P: and a big part of that tradition is the religion idiom, which is
negative for a lot of people. how are people who have no connection to
the tradition connecting with the music? have you heard from people
about that?
K: it seems what they seem to be experiencing a level of emotional
experience that is essentially transcendent beyond the religious idiom,
and, it appears, beyond a lot of things. they seem to appreciate the
sense of being lifted or carried away. and they, depending on who it
is, it happens to various degrees.
P: does that happen to you when you play, that transcendence?
K: oh yeah. and to me, I don't know if the audience picks it up, it's a
blatant situation when it's NOT happening. when I sit down to
play a gig, that's always my goal, to experience that as the musician.
that's why I improvise and why, ultimately, I'm playing my myself, to
allow that much more room for the music to take off on it's own flight.
one person is enough work to get out of the way for the music to be
safe. there's the potential that two or three people could bring it
higher, but my experience has been the down side is that it's less
common...every person who is in the game makes it that much harder for
the music to take over. when it does, it can be an amazing experience,
but it's so much harder and less personal ultimately.
P: is that something that's pretty regular for you, that goal?
K: it happens most times, certainly not every time, and it's rare that
it's present for an entire gig. the best I can usually hope for is to
get to that place a few times during a gig. every once in a while an
entire gig is amazing, and that has to do with so many things: the
audience, the venue, what's been going on, so many things. but yet
there are nights I have to rely on the physical gifts to just push
through, which doesn't end up being an unfullfilling experience for
anybody, but if an audience member went to one that turned into magic
for whatever reason, and then they went to another one, I think they
could tell the difference. it's not a falling on the face kind of
thing, if the spirit isn't rolling through, then it's relying on the
gifts of music, having spent all that time doing it.
P: Jay Farrar, formerly of the band Uncle Tupelo, has got a line where
he says, "ain't it hard/when the spirit doesn't catch you/gravity's the
winner/and it weighs you down." though I suppose if you're a good
enough musician, you can defy gravity for a little while. A
friend of mine out in Missoula said to me, in reference to your music,
that he wished he could get beyond the cynicism and sing with the same
kind of honesty you do. What helped get you over that hurdle?
K: the good things. in spite of yourself, you still end up finding some
really nice things about being alive, which ought to make you feel like
nothing is really being taken away from you by being confused, or
questioning, or doubting, or walking away from it entirely or whatever.
it's all human frailty, and everyone is going to be subject to that. in
spite of that I think you can still walk amazingly humble, and
recognize the gifts that are constantly falling on your head.
P: that takes a certain kind of courage or consciousness or something.
K: yeah...it's going to be different, though. I'm thinking of
experiences that I've had, like having a child. there's been a lot of
stuff through living that I've barely survived, so I'm not trying to
paint the picture or suggest that all these good things are constantly
happening. and yet they're there nonetheless. you can witness
kind people doing kind things, and amazingly intelligent people still
remaining humble. it's turned into a way for me of recognizing
the goodness in living and then that turns into another thing I wonder,
where does come from and why is it here at all? but wondering is
just part of it. I'm not going to doubt it's existence or ignore the
experience of it, just because I don't understand it. that has released
a lot of the cynicism I think. none having to do with the teasing of
doctrines and so on, I think I'll probably always be cynical about
that. looking around at life and being willing to experience it
and letting it teach you...I don't know. It's hard to describe.
P: but you seem to be at ease with how it comes and goes. have you
always been?
K: no, 10 years ago it used to kick me in the side of the head, for
sure.
P: has having a kid helped that? I've been told that does.
K: it's been a part of it, and it's had more to do with watching
someone experience life from the ground up, way more than the idea of
having the child. being that close to someone who's completely starting
from zero. I've learned a lot from watching her be who she is, and
watching myself change because of that.
P: you talked about being real scared of singing when you started. did
you sing when you were a kid?
K: I used to just sing running around the house and playing games
outdoors. I didn't sing in kid choirs or things. I used to sing because
it felt good.
P: yeah it does feel good. what kinds of things are you listening
to these days?
K: last night I listened to deGarri {sp?], this African guy. he plays
guitar in this amazing way. and I've been listening to Steve Earle's
new record and Lucinda Williams' new record. and this band I can't stop
listening to, Third Eye Blind. They've got a couple hits on the radio.
I was just driving along and I heard this song and I wanted to get out
and dance, which rarely happens. I told someone else, if I was 17 and
had stumbled on this record, that's the kind of band I would have
wanted to be in. they're great and fun. three nights ago I sat
down and listened to Keith Jarrett double cd, and John Coltrane and and
Miles Davis.
P: do you're reacquiring those jazz records?
K: yeah I'm getting them all on cd. [laughter] last week I picked
up Bob Dylan's new record. It's good. 10 or 15 years ago I wouldn't
have listened to folks like Steve Earle or Lucinda or Dylan, but at
this point I like to listen to them as songwriters, kind of another way
of reading poetry. hearing the word play, how it fits, both out of
enjoyment and as a study.
P: do you find yourself thinking of songwriting more as a craft?
K: no. at least I hope not. I see it as a craft in hearing people
sometimes, and when I'm listening to a record specifically to hear the
words, I have that feeling sometimes that this is a point at which the
craft is taking over. but I sure hope it doesn't end up appearing in
me. maybe there's no way to avoid it. I'm not sure. I don't feel yet
like I approach writing that way myself.
P: is it more spontaneous?
K: yeah.
P: do you go back and edit ever?
K: yeah. sometimes I do it. primary reason is that I've been composing
the lyric first. a lot of guitar players have this a combination of
things, either where they have a guitar part and then they write a song
around that, or they have a lyric and then that guides them the rest of
the way for the song. the last couple of years I've been trying to come
up with the entire lyric first, so I'll come up with an entire lyric
and when I attempt to wrap music around it, then I end up having to do
a bit of editing.
P: I go about it the same way. when I've asked other people about it,
they say they can't imagine doing it that way. but I like to think of
the words functioning on their own.
K: yeah, I do too. the other way, I don't think it makes for a very
good song. I don't suppose it does any way. I wouldn't want the
lyric to be nothing other than filler for the music.
P: like noise your mouth makes. you inspired me to read 'Zen and
the art of motorcycle maintenance,' since you mentioned it last time we
talked.
K: did you read it?
P: yeah! what a great book! I read it all in one day.
K: really?! oh man. that's a great way to read it, because then
you really go with him on the trip.
P: yep. any books you've read recently that have been important for you?
K: about two years ago I read 'the confessions of saint
Augustine.' that really made an impact. I think I stumbled onto a
really good translation. I didn't know anything about it. I was in a
book store in West Virginia and I liked the cover so I read the back of
it and then I bought it.
P: which translation was it?
K: it's right here, I can tell you. You know the other book I really
love is 'Pilgrim's Progress.' I read that three or four times.
God, it's such a beautiful book. and it reads so gorgeous. A lovely
thing. Let me go find that other book. [looks for book]. this
guy's name is Rex Warner. "A vivid contemporary translation.'
Those two, other than Pilgrim's Progress, were the book impact books
for me. Pilgrim's Progress I just loved to pieces. I can imagine being
12 years old, if I could have read it. It's so engrossing.
P: I think I WAS 12 years old when I read it. I can remember loving all
the allegory.
K: yeah. the last couple years have been so busy. I fell madly in love
and got married in the last 9 months. so it's been nice to experience
life again.
P: really?! Congratulations! I could see why reading books would fall
down the list of priorities.
K: yeah. I was never much of a student. I didn't do college but for a
year, and I barely made it through that and high school, so I kept
having to go back and find out what people have always talked
about. I went through a big period there reading Kerouac,
Ginsberg, and Burroughs all back to back, bumped in a few Charles
Pekowski [sp?] books just to get a feel for that. but then I
burned out.
P: I know that feeling.
[wherein I get his address so I can send him a copy of Morning Light
and this interview, and we agree to get a beer when he's next in
Minnesota.]