Pitchfork

New Pornographers frontman Carl Newman has managed to knock out about one album every 18 months throughout the '00s, both with the Pornos and as a solo artist. It's a rare feat for a songwriter of Newman's stature-- particularly one with so many great songwriters to lean on in that band of his-- made all the more impressive by the Pornographers' deliberate recording process and relentless touring schedule. Newman seems somewhat hesitant to talk a lot about the songwriting process, due in no small part to his insistence on incorporating it into his life like a 9-to-5-- well, 11-to-7, as he tells it-- gig. It's no wonder you know so many of the dude's songs.

We rang up Newman at home in Brooklyn late last week to talk about Get Guilty, his second solo LP, due January 20 from Matador. It arrives not quite 18 months after the release of the most recent New Pornographers LP, Challengers, and just as Newman's beginning to work on the demos that will become its follow-up. We talked about the sessions behind the disc, the benefits of picking a studio with a talented engineering staff, the trouble with being both "Carl Newman" and "A.C. Newman", his insatiable urge to be well-liked, and just how one makes a normal life out of being a rocker.

Pitchfork: We haven't heard Get Guilty yet. Can you give us a hint as to what it sounds like?

Carl Newman: I've got the inside track, I suppose. It sounds like me.

Pitchfork: Like you, eh? Here's what someone who's heard the record, but who isn't you, wrote: "It sounds lush but not overworked."

CN: Wait a minute, that's just from the press bio. I know who wrote that. Yeah, I'll take "lush but not overworked." That's positive, isn't it?

Pitchfork: Those seem like good things. Lush. Not overworked.

CN: I'll take it, then. I mean, yeah, I suppose that's something the guy strives for in his music, to be "lush but not overworked." It's hard for me to talk about what the record sounds like.

Pitchfork: Sure. Maybe you'd do better defining it against some things you've done in the past? Maybe your last solo album [2004's The Slow Wonder]?

CN: Just going from [producer] Phil Palazzolo, I think it's definitely a little bit more raw. My first solo record was kind of an experiment in minimalism for me, I think because people talk about the New Pornographers being maximalist. So on that record, I was just doing a lot of those drum parts; even though I got someone else to play them, I actually wrote them. Just very simple, precise drum parts, precisely put tambourines here and there. This one I just let go, and it's getting a little more "rock." I think I realized the New Pornographers, when we did Challengers, I pushed stuff about as mellow as I could possibly go, and I thought, OK, I've made this quiet record," so I felt like now I'll get progressively more "rock." That was in my mind when I was making this.

When I got people to play on this record, I didn't even want them to listen to the stuff beforehand. I didn't want them to get too fancy. I just said, "Just listen to the song, and within an hour of listening to it, I'm sure you'll have something." I got [Superchunk/Mountain Goats drummer/comedian] Jon Wurster to do a lot of the drumming on it, and he's a very propulsive rock drummer. I mean, much like Kurt [Dahle, of the New Pornographers] is. I think it wasn't conscious, but on this record, subliminally, I wanted to make more of a rock record. But my version of a rock record is not the average person's. It doesn't sound like the Vines, or whatever you would call a rock record. Actually, that was a really old record.

Pitchfork: I'm personally glad to hear it doesn't sound like the Vines.

CN: At the same time, there's still balladry on there, and you know, with every record I feel like I'm just messing around. And it's such a lame thing for a musical artist to say that whatever record they make is just a snapshot into what they're doing. But I feel like that's always been how I've made records. I feel like I start making a record and I just start playing songs, and I go into the studio, and I think, "Okay, what am I gonna do today? Let's do a new song." And I think, "what new song should I do?" Then after I get about 15 songs, I just stop, I say, "Okay, time to put and end to this. I can't start 30 songs and not finish them. I have to make a record."

Pitchfork: So this is a snapshot, then, of...

CN: See, that sounds lame now. It's a precise surgical strike. A precise surgical snapshot.

Pitchfork: [laughs] We talked to you before Challengers came out, and you mentioned something about the possibility of working on this record kind of like how Van Morrison's Astral Weeks was created, where you just sort of set yourself up in a room with all these musicians, and then you just get in there and blow and hope it turns out. And what were you're saying--

CN: No, I didn't do that.

Pitchfork: You didn't do that, but you're saying you sorta hurried people along with the arrangements to make them less deliberate. There's something kind of similar in that process, isn't there?

CN: There's elements of it, I suppose, except that they weren't all in the room at the same time. But that's always been my dream, you know-- when you hear the tale of how Astral Weeks was made, I think many people have that dream. It's funny, 'cause Phil, who I worked on the record with, he was talking about how a year ago he was talking to Jim from My Morning Jacket about possibly doing their record. He didn't do it, but he was saying how Jim was saying, "Yeah, I want to do something very very 'live' sounding." And then when you hear their new record [Evil Urges], it doesn't really have that quality. It feels like it's their most produced record, and I thought this was a classic example of what goes on when you're trying to make a record. Maybe a year beforehand, you think, "Yeah, let's do something kind of like that." But then you start working on it, and it morphs into kind of this thing which is different.

I feel that's the same with this record. I had this idea that for my solo record, I would just hit up everybody I knew, all my all-star musician friends, and I would get everybody to play on it. In the end, I didn't. I got a few people, like Mates of State and Nicole Atkins to sing on it, and I got Jon to drum on it, but in the end I found that I'm not quite together enough to do that. I think I'm too much of a control freak to let even somebody I really respect come in and do whatever they want for my record. I'm not a very good guitar player, but I still feel like when I'm playing guitar, only I can do it correctly. Even if it sounds kind of spastic, I think, "That's my kind of spastic." There's elements of that on this record, which comes back to it being a little bit more raw perhaps than my solo record was, or than Challengers was, where I'll play a keyboard part, and I know there's something flawed in it, there'll be a distorted Wurlitzer on it, and I'll play it again, and yet there's something in that flawed Wurlitzer that I can't get over, and I just have to use it.

I find when I'm making a record, I constantly have this push and pull. I wanna make a record that's totally precise and kind of minimal, like Spoon or Clinic. And at the same time, I also wanna do something like the Fiery Furnaces, which is just out on its own, and they don't give a fuck if anybody likes it or not. They don't care how abrasive it is. So I feel like there's that constant push and pull with me, where I'll write something that's essentially a straight ahead pop song, but for some reason, it will just break down into some atonal E-bow for a couple bars, but then it will go back in the song again. I don't know if that's healthy or not, but I actually feel that pull, that kind of-- I don't know-- I can't go in any direction, I'm stuck in the middle.

Pitchfork: That seems to be working out okay for you.

CN: Yeah, I can't complain. It's what I do for a living. It even seems to be turning into a career.

Pitchfork: On that note, when did you find time to record this thing? New Pornographers put out Challengers, you guys toured a good bit for a while, you got married. There's a lot going on in your life.

CN: I just treated this like my day job. Really, the New Pornographers didn't go crazy with the touring after Challengers came out. There was about three months where we toured fairly solid. We've been doing festivals here and there, like little week-long trips. We did a couple weeks with Okkervil River. Whenever I was home, I just treated this like my day job. I just did it in pieces. I would book a week or ten days out of a month and just go into Seaside Lounge, which is my local, friendly studio. Which is only 15 blocks down the road for me. So I could treat it like a 9-5 job, which is really the dream: making your living as a musician but still keeping some kind of normality in your life, like going to the studio at 11 and coming back by 7 and actually being able to eat dinner and watch TV and have a normal life.

Also, in the last few years, I've tried to have a kind of a work ethic. I know this is my job, and I'm very grateful and I should be very thankful that this is my job, so I don't want to waste time. I don't want to sit back and go, "Oh, I'm making a living making music, I don't need the money so I'm gonna stop working. Just sit back and not try." So there's part of me that thinks I gotta keep working. This is what I do. I feel like I'm always looking over my shoulder. Like I'm doing fairly well, but I haven't set myself up til I'm 70, you know? Maybe I'm just getting to the age where I'm thinking about the future.

Oddly enough, I'm much more hungry now than I was when I was, say, 22. I think when I was 22 I didn't care, I think I had no work ethic. I think it was only when I got older that I started thinking that I should make a serious college try at this music thing, which was essentially what [the debut New Pornographers album] Mass Romantic was. Not that it was a try to make a career, but I thought, "No more fucking around." Just try and make a record very close to what you've always wanted to make, and put your head down and work long hours to do it, and don't compromise and all that.

Pitchfork: So if you're working on something, if your eye is on the future, what is it that you're working towards? Just continuing to put out records, or is there some larger goal?

CN: It sounds like advice from a parent to a child, but just do your best, you know? Just make the records that you wanna make. I don feel like I've ever sold out. At the same time, I don't have any really fiercely political ideas of selling out. I don't have any problem with licensing my music to a TV show or a commercial or a trailer, assuming it's nothing I find really offensive. You just try and do what you do, and try your best at it, and try and make a living at it. I've kind of boiled it down to that purest essence.

Pitchfork: You've got some guests on this album: Jon Wurster, Nicole Atkins, Mates of State. But beyond that, this is mostly you and Phil Palazzolo in the studio without a whole lot of outside help?

CN: No, there were other people, like my friend Tara [Szczygielski], who played violin in Challenegers. She did a lot of violin on the record, and my friend Brendan Ryan played accordion and keyboard. Who else is on there? In the typical style of every record I've made in the last ten years, whoever was around was on the record. There's this guy at Seaside named Eric [Heveron-Smith] who plays trombone. One day, Phil wasn't there, and Eric was working as the assistant engineer, and I said, "Why don't we record you playing trombone today?"  It never even occurred to me but there's a bunch of trombone on the record because the engineer I was working with played trombone. There's a lot of stuff like that. I played some keyboards and I did a lot of the bass and the guitars, but it's hard for me keep track, to go through my mind and remember, "How was this record made?" Of course, I'm sitting there guiding it, but definitely a lot of people came in and helped do things that make the record something that you could never have done on your own.

Pitchfork: I understand you're planning to do about six weeks on the road in the spring. Do you have a touring band set?

CN: I think I've got it set, but it's not completely set. I think it's pretty crack.

Pitchfork: Any names we might recognize?

CN: The thing is, I don't want to say who's in it for fear that they can't do it for whatever reason. But I feel like if I can get my dream team, it will be really great. To pull off these songs and to pull off the songs from The Slow Wonder, I feel like every band member has to play a couple instruments.

Pitchfork: Yeah, it seems like you would need quite a few hands.

CN: I have to get somebody who plays guitar and keyboards or bass and keyboards and vocals and trumpet and accordion. So I think I might be able to pull it off. It's always tricky. I just played my first show in years.

Pitchfork: Oh yeah, that was quite recently. At the Bell House in Brooklyn, right? How'd it go?

CN: It was really awesome, it's great when you haven't done a show like that in so long, to know that people remember you and show up. It was with the Oranges Band, who I really like, and this band Bird of Youth. It was cool, it was actually their first show. It's this girl Beth Wawerna, actually [Okkervil River frontman] Will Sheff's girlfriend... and Will was working with her on the record, I guess he's the producer on it. It's really good. Bird of Youth is named after the Rock*A*Teens album [Sweet Bird of Youth -- Ed.]. So yeah, that was a cool show, and the Bell House is a cool venue.

Pitchfork: Who was in your band for that?

CN: It was me plus six other people. Nicole came and sang. She did pretty much all of the backup vocals. And Tara, who played on the record, played on it. And then Phil the producer played guitar.

Pitchfork: I didn't see you on the Slow Wonder tour. Do you do--

CN: Not many people did. I realized later that when I called myself A.C. Newman, that really confused a lot of people. I did most of my touring a few weeks after the album came out. And after that, I hardly did any shows at all. So during my biggest tour, I think most people didn't know who A.C. Newman was. I found months later that people would say, "Oh, that's Carl Newman? I didn't know that." I thought it would be clear, since it said something about "leader of the New Pornographers" on the sticker [on The Slow Wonder CD]. But because of that, I feel like that first tour I did didn't give me any gauge of how well I was doing. There were big places where I did really well. But in smaller places, I felt like people hadn't figured it out yet.

Pitchfork: Do you think people still have trouble with that distinction? I was actually writing something about you earlier, and I was thinking, "Well, I can't call him Carl, because we're talking about the solo artist."

CN: I've just accepted that I'm A.C. Newman now. After I did the solo album, I decided that this has to be my official name. Like when I write my name in New Pornographers records, I have to go by this. It really confused me, because I remember in 2005 [the New Pornographers] were playing somewhere, and somebody in the audience was yelling "A.C.!" at me, and I was paying no attention. Because it didn't even occur to me that that's my name. And then Blaine [Thurier, New Pornographers keyboardist] said, "Call him Carl!" And they said "Carl" and then I turned my head. It's taken me a while. It still feel a little weird to even answer to A.C., because I feel like it's kind of lame that I've given myself a rock name. Even though it's my initials, because my name is Allan Carl. It's an honest rock name. But I feel like I've begun calling myself "Edge" or "Sting" or something.

Pitchfork: That's next, maybe.

CN: Yes. When I was a kid I always wanted to be called Ace, because I really loved Ace Frehley. If I just kept that "E" vowel sound off the end, I could be Ace now.

Pitchfork: I think people would pick up on that. That could take off. "Ace" Newman.

CN: I was tempted to call my next record Ace but I didn't. I chickened out.

Pitchfork: What's the meaning behind Get Guilty, then?

CN: It was just a couple of words that just jumped out at me. I was reading this Donald Barthelme story-- I don't even remember which one it was, it was in Sixty Stories-- but the phrase jumped out at me and I wrote it down, just because sometimes a couple of words will just hit you. Maybe it's just the alliteration of them, but you know, I just started thinking about them. I like that Get Guilty could mean "start feeling guilty about something you've done" or "do something that you should feel guilty about." When I think about it, it reminds me of Get Sharp. It has that kind of rock album title. Or even Get the Knack, where the albums are telling you to do something. Like Come Dancing, or something.

When I'm trying to think of an album title, I'm always thinking of rock history. I'm always thinking of the other rock albums, "What are they called?" I can never get past that, because I think I'll never not look at a record from the point of view of a fan who's going to buy a record, who's going to listen to a record. I'm very uncomfortable in the role of musician. I always feel like I'm just a music fans who is imitating music. Or even on another level, I feel like-- this is going to sound kind of lame-- I feel like I approach music far more like an artist than like a musician. Because I've never been that good on any instrument. So I think of music in more conceptual terms. But I always think it's a dangerous thing when you start calling yourself an artist. But I don't think I'm an artist, when I think about it I just approach it a little more conceptually. Notes and chords mean nothing to me.

Pitchfork: Do you read music?

CN: No, no, I don't.

Pitchfork: So did you teach yourself guitar?

CN: Yeah, pretty much. Which is why I'm not very good at it. I'm passable, like anybody. You learn enough to get by. And you get better. I'm not really much of a producer. I don't know how to work the machines very well, but I know enough to get by. You learn a few things.

Pitchfork: Sure, you've been around it for a while now.

CN: Yeah. After years and years you're bound to pick up a very minimal amount of knowledge. The whole DIY thing that started up in rock is very inspirational to me, the idea that you don't have to be able to sing very well or play very well, and your records don't have to sound that great. You can just do it anyway. I guess it started with punk. It's the only reason I can do anything. If I had to exist in a world like the 50s, where you had to be an amazing crack player, and an amazing singer who could dance as well, I don't think I would have a prayer. It's only this current day and age that give people like me a chance, where you can sit on your computer on GarageBand and just hack something out. And if it's a bad vocal take, you can hack it up and use pieces from another vocal take, or you can even cheat and Auto-Tune yourself.

Pitchfork: Is there anything like Auto-Tune on the album? Can you see behind the curtain in that way?

CN: No, I think I actually made a serious effort to sing it correctly. That's one thing I remember from the record was, for the first three-quarters if it, I would just do vocal tracks and I wouldn't really pay that much attention to it. I would just think, "That's good enough." And I would just concentrate on other parts of the song. But when it got to the last, like, week or two of the album, I became obsessed with vocals. And I would go back and go, "No, I have to re-sing these." Then I would just study them, very minutely, and just go "No, my breathing sounds weird there. Let me do that word over again."

Pitchfork: Seems like that would be especially important for a solo album, and your voice is generally pretty high in the mix anyway.

CN: Yeah, nobody wants to sound shitty.

Pitchfork: I understand you're covering a-ha's "Take On Me" for a Starbucks Valentine's Day compilation. How did that come about?

CN: They just called me up and asked me to do it, and I started thinking, "Okay, a love song, a love song that I like..." So I actually recorded two songs, I did "Love Goes On" by the Go-Betweens, and I did "Take on Me". Actually I think "Love Goes On"  is gonna be a bonus track, because they chose "Take on Me". Which I knew they would. I did "Take on Me", Starbucks-style, a stark reading of "Take on Me". I've always liked that song, it's always had a place in my heart. You've gotta love that high falsetto chorus. Even if you take away the cheesy 80s quality of it, it's actually a really good song. Everything about it is very catchy, [and] the lyrics are very ESL. I realized that when I was singing them. I thought, "These barely make sense." But when you've got a song that good, it doesn't matter.

I also realized that the song is not really as romantic as it sounds, because the chorus, you know, "take on me" sounds very romantic. But then the final falsetto line is "I'll be gone in a day or two," which is kind of at odds with everything else in the song. Which kind of made me like it a little bit more. because he's singing it in that screeching falsetto, nobody can tell what he's saying. It's like, "I'll be gone..." and then what? And "ooo-woo-ooo-woo-ooo."

Pitchfork: Did Starbucks offer anything in the way of perks? Do you get to go in and get free coffee whenever you like?

CN: I don't think so. That would be dangerous. A dangerous thing to do. Nah, I don't think-- maybe other artists get that perk, I don't think I do.

Pitchfork: You're also doing a cover of a song from the vast Merge records catalog for their anniversary box. Or, I should say, the New Pornographers are doing that. Have you picked out a song? And have you recorded it?

CN: Yeah, we're doing "Don't Destroy This Night" by the Rock*A*Teens. We haven't finished it yet, but we're close. It's hard to do covers, especially of a band you totally love. Because you have to go, "Okay, we can't sound like the Rock*A*Teens, but what will we sound like if not the Rock*A*Teens?" It should be good, I think it's going to be a full-on female vocal version of it. It seemed like a good song for a lot of people singing. But it was hard to choose, there were so many songs. Because they are actually my favorite band, currently. I'm really annoyed that I wasn't into them at the time. Now I listen to those records and they really blow me away. I find it hard to believe that they were so ignored.

Pitchfork: Yeah, you don't hear a lot of people talking about them now.

CN: I should've known, because I had friends that really loved them at the time. I remember Dan [Bejar, of the New Pornographers and Destroyer] talked a lot about them and Neko [Case, of the New Pornographers] talked a lot about them, and I heard a few songs, but some bands you just miss. I don't know why it is. But when I finally stared listening to them, I couldn't get over how great they really were. And Will Sheff was really pissed off that we beat him to the punch. Because each band could only be used once.

Pitchfork: Oh, so there's not going to be 15 Portastatic songs or anything?

CN: No, which is good. So we got in early and picked Rock*A*Teens. I think Okkervil is doing East River Pipe. I'm actually curious to see what all the other bands are doing.

Pitchfork: It should be good. Sometimes those things don't work out, but this sounds really excellent.

CN: It does sound really awesome. If I can't get one for free, I'll buy it. I'm really curious to see what the list of covers is. I want to see if anybody was foolish enough to do Arcade Fire or Spoon. That's dangerous business. I'd be curious-- somebody's gotta be doing Destroyer.

Pitchfork: Oh yeah. I can't imagine who it might be.

CN: Initially I though that would be a really annoying move by us to pick Destroyer.

Pitchfork: Ha, that was going to be my question if you hadn't already told me.

CN: But I think we knew how obvious that would be. I actually had a really conceptual idea that we didn't do, but I wanted to do a medley of "Don't Destroy This Night", which turns into "This Night" by Destroyer. But we just didn't take the time. And everybody would've hated it. I'm trying to not be hated so much. It was my New Year's resolution. I'm trying to be more well-liked.

Pitchfork: You seem like a fairly well-liked figure in this little world of ours. Do you feel a lot of the hate?

CN: It's never enough. Being well-liked is like a drug. After a while you just need to be well-liked to feel normal. So I'm just chasin' the dragon. The funny part is, I joke about that, but there's an element of truth to it. I think in terms of playing music and feeding off any kind of critical praise, it's kind of unhealthy, I've found. Because I realize at no point is it ever enough. And the worst end result is someone like Kurt Cobain shooting himself in the head. You go, "Why would the hugest rock star of our entire generation want to kill himself?" And then you realize, "Could it be because being the most well-loved icon of a generation isn't enough to make a person happy?" That's why it comes back to, like your mom says, do your best.

Pitchfork: Anything else going on that folks might like to know about?

CN: God, I don't know. What else is going on now? I'm actually just waitin' to go on tour for this record, and I'm starting to demo the next New Pornographers record. Because now that I've finished this one, I gotta do something else. Considering how much time touring can take out of your life and other things, if you wanna put out records on a regular basis, you gotta keep working.

Pitchfork: Do you have expectations for how that's gonna come together? Are you going to maybe record this summer, after your tour is over?

CN: I don't know. It's getting trickier and trickier for us, because we're all so scattered. Even Kurt, Kurt just bought a farm in rural Saskatchewan. So I wouldn't be surprised to find myself traveling to his farm to practice, but we'll see. We gotta meet somewhere. Last time we made a record, I feel like I forced everyone to come to Brooklyn. On this one, I think I have to be willing to move more. I might be doing more traveling than I want to.

Other than that, no. Just living my life in Brooklyn. Which is a nice life.

Get Guilty:

01 There Are Maybe Ten or Twelve
02 The Heartbreak Rides
03 Like a Hitman, Like a Dancer
04 Submarines of Stockholm
05 Prophets
06 Thunderbolts
07 The Palace at 4 AM
08 The Changeling (Get Guilty)
09 Elemental
10 Young Atlantis
11 The Collected Works
12 All of My Days and All of My Days Off

A.C. Newman:

02-24-03-01 San Francisco, CA - NoisePop Festival