Michael Feuerstack Talks Singing and Songing

In the old “Tin Pan Alley” model of music production, which had its heyday at the turn of the twentieth century, songs written on West 28th Street in New York City were then taken and performed elsewhere by pros and amateurs alike. It was a thoroughly modern thing: there was a clear division of labour whereby the composer/lyricist played different roles than the singer/band—a sort of pop assembly line. The long, slow rise of rock and the cult of the singer-songwriter finally made this network all but obsolete (or at least made it seem uncool); young audiences in the sixties derived serious pleasure from the fact that the voices singing to them (voices like Bob Dylan’s or Joni Mitchell’s or Neil Young’s) appeared to be windows onto the deep souls of the artists who had lived through the experiences about which they were now also singing.

Michael Feuerstack’s new record, playfully titled Singer Songer, in a sense hearkens back to the olden days, then, when writers could bang around on their keyboards behind closed doors and let someone else do the dirty work of belting out the songs in public. He’s enlisted the help of some friends and colleagues, including Mathias Kom, Bry Webb, Jesse Stein, John K. Samson, and Little Scream. The result is a sparkling mélange of indie-folk voices—and a gem of a record.

As a lyricist, Feuerstack’s gaze roams all over, from the concrete and mundane to the abstract and ethereal. We hear about dreams and old friends, myths and debts, bootleggers and security guards, history and loss, yet this party can’t help but tend towards hopefulness. “No trouble knows the way here / be cool and stay here / flip the bird to the clouds,” as Kom nearly whispers on the inviting opener “Along the Way.” Even cold breakups sound full of possibility. “I’ve known it all along / I’m ready for the time of my life,” goes Bry Webb on “Did I?” if a little uncertainly. These characters are dreaming, yearning, trying to make the best of the way things have gone and are going.

Although he’s passed the microphone, thankfully Feuerstack has not given up his guitar or his producer vision. Singer Songer is full of his signature moves: the lullaby choruses, the tricky time signatures, the lush instrumentation (here horns and slides), the crisp rhythm sections, the wise solos…. From Snailhouse to “Michael Feuerstack,” his records have always had a sculptural or tactile quality—you kind of want to eat them—and this one’s no exception.

Forward Music and Headless Owl are releasing the LP on Record Store Day (April 19), with CD and other digital versions to follow on April 29. In the meantime, Noisey had the opportunity to ask Michael Feuerstack about the process of making his new album and about the very idea of the “singer-songwriter.”

Noisey: When and why does a singer-songwriter (you, I mean) elect not to sing?
Michael Feuerstack: When he or she (myelf, I mean) feels they might be able to unlock some new aspect of songwriting, once liberated from their own voice. Or, when they feel another voice will give song a new meaning, or even a new life.

Was there something about these voices in particular that made you want them on your record? In terms of the distribution of the songs, how’d you decide who got what?
These are simply some of the people in my community—people whose music I like, who I thought might consider this to be fun. Luckily there were no people who turned me down. The people on the record are the people I asked to be on the record. It was always meant to be playful and stress free, and that it was.

The songs were in various states of sketch form—some extremely rough. It was only after I chose the singers that I was able to find the inspiration to push them through. Knowing who the singer was going to be in many cases helped me to finish it—to tailor it, if you will.

That’s really fascinating because I wondered, at least on the Bry Webb tune, for instance, if his voice wasn’t possessed in a way by your own or by the song. Mathias too sounds almost Feuerstackian here. So you’re tailoring to them, and some of them maybe are tailoring to you (even if unconsciously). Would you agree? Were they given any direction aside from the scratch vocal?
Well, I suppose that isn’t so surprising, since the melodies and lyrics and (to some extent) the phrasing all come from my version of the songs. Maybe they are tailoring to me, or maybe my songs are just deceptively weird.

Did the singers have a demo of your voice to work from? Did any of the songs or characters change or turn into something you weren’t expecting?
Yes—in most cases I sent them a version with me singing a scratch vocal, so they could get what I had in mind, but I tried to leave them the room to interpret it however they liked. I also was careful not to do such a good job at singing the scratch vocal so that I wouldn’t become attached to my own way of performing the song. That was actually easy.

Tell me about the title. What’s a “songer”?
A songer is nothing without a singer. I liked warping the traditional notion of “singer-songwriter.” I’ve always felt that term as a genre was frustrating. It’s more of a description of what’s happening than of anything stylistic. With a title like that, I think it becomes clear that I’m messing with something familiar. It’s classic, but in a bent up way.

So what is it about the singer-songwriter label that is limiting or tired?
I never used those words actually. I don’t even feel that negatively about “singer-songwriter” as a label. I just don’t find it to be very telling of genre or style. In my mind Jonathan Richman, Prince and David Bowie are every bit as much singer songwriters as James Taylor or Jim Croce. The label is believed to indicate a stylistic or even auto-biographical aspect which isn’t necessarily to be found anywhere in the songs.

Who are your favourite singer-songwriters? And what makes a bad or boring singer-songwriter, do you think?
I could go on. There are 1000s of singers who write songs that I love. I love Curtis Mayfield, The Roches, Joe Strummer, Bob Dylan, Kate Bush. Neil Young’s pretty good too. I really love Field Music and Jenny Hval, if you don’t want just the boring classics. Not to mention, every single vocalist on Singer Songer is an amazing songwriter as well as singer.

As for what makes a singer-songwriter bad or boring, it’s really hard to say. I guess it’s just about whether I am convinced or not, as a listener. Do I want to keep listening? How else can one judge?

Will you sing these yourself live? Any plans to tour with the nine collaborators?
I’ll probably sing some of them here and there in my shows, but I don’t have plans to record them myself. There is no plan to tour (or even do a single show, for that matter) with all the singers. There’s no budget, and no scheduling wizard powerful enough to make that happen. However, if and whenever guests from the album are around, it will be nice to invite them to sing with me here and there.

Would you ever want to be a writer for a big star or something, an indie rock Lieber and Stoller? I feel like if you and Taylor Swift joined forces you’d change the world. Any dream voices you’d love to write for?
Totally. Where do I sign up? Singer Songer came from that daydream a little bit. I think my songs are likely a bit unusual, but I think I could give it a good try. As for specific singers—I’ll have to get back to you. At the moment, I just feel lucky all the Singer Songer associates were up for it.

Henry Adam Svec is a Writer Reader who is on Twitter.

---

We went people watching at a Guelph music festival.

One time, we found a decent band in London Ontario.

Hamilton's The Dirty Nil are pretty good at music