If Son Volt singer/guitarist Jay Farrar is selecting tunes on a jukebox, he opts for vintage country. Stuff by Merle Haggard, Buck Owens or George Jones.
“It's sort of a way to gauge how good a bar is, in my estimation,” Farrar says. Likewise, Son Volt's latest LP, “American Central Dust,” is built on agrarian acoustic guitars, spectral pedal steel and smoky keyboards. Farrar has mined the past throughout his alt-country defining career, dating back to Uncle Tupelo. Yet, Son Volt still sounds relevant.
Farrar's lyrics can be murky (the soporific “Roll On”) or pointed (“When the Wheels Don't Move,” politics rolling in elephantine fuzz). The St. Louis-based songwriter takes to the piano for “Cocaine and Ashes.” Farrar wrote the tune after reading about Keith Richards snorting his dad's cremated remains along with some blow. The Stones guitarist later recanted the story.
“I took Keith's original statement as being honest and paying tribute to his father,” Farrar says. “So in a way, this song wound up being my tribute to Keith. As the continuum goes, Keith is probably the reason I took up playing the piano at all. The second Uncle Tupelo record, ‘Still Feel Gone,' was recorded at Long View Farm, where Keith had recorded a bootleg of rock 'n' roll, country and jazz standards, all on piano. That tape inspired me.”
You collaborated with Death Cab for Cutie's Ben Gibbard on a soundtrack for the documentary “One Fast Move or I'm Gone: Kerouac's Big Sur” using Jack Kerouac's words as lyrics.
(Kerouac) sort of lays out a template for anyone looking to create art: get out and experience life.
The Son Volt song “Sultana” is about a ship that sank in 1865. Why did that story connect with you?
More people lost their lives on that than on the Titanic. In addition to my father working on the Mississippi River for several decades, I still live close. Occasionally, you can see what appear to be pieces of shipwrecks sticking up out of sandbars.
Perry Ferrell was once asked when Jane's Addiction would reunite, and he replied it would happen “when the sky rains money.” What would it take for Uncle Tupelo to reform?
That's a great quote from him. Before the Gibbard tour, we shared a rehearsal space with (Jane's Addiction). I don't ever want to see (an Uncle Tupelo reunion) happen, and I don't think even what Perry Ferrell suggests will make it happen.
This year artists ranging from The Pixies to Steely Dan have been doing tours playing one of their seminal albums front-to-back. What early Son Volt album do you think would be interesting to perform that way?
I have no idea. Any suggestions?
“Straightaways” wouldn't be bad.
All right, I'll take note of that. I've heard of people doing that and think it is a good concept, but honestly, I haven't given any thoughts to what I would do along those lines. But I guess you're getting the ball rolling.
Besides residing in New Orleans for a bit in the '90s, you've based out of your hometown, St. Louis, most of your career. Why?
I prefer St. Louis for a lot of reasons. I have friends and family here, but St. Louis is also a living, breathing and, though not an entirely working-class city, there's less pretension in artists here than in what you find in Brooklyn or Los Angeles.
What's your favorite piece of gear in your St. Louis studio?
Probably the main piece of gear that is most integral for getting the sound of Son Volt at this point is analog tape. There's this sort of inherent warmth and character you can't really get any other way.
What do you like about writing a song on piano, as on “Cocaine and Ashes,” instead of guitar?
I found writing on piano opens more doors to the creative process. It's similar to the kind of doors that get opened when your use alternate (guitar) tunings, where you're going over ground you haven't been over before.
It seemed like the band's playing on “American Central Dust” was really sympathetic. There are some new members in Son Volt. What points of reference do you throw out in the studio to get players on the same page? Will you suggest a vibe, like “Flying Burritos Brothers” or “ ‘Exile'-era Stones?”
More often than not I don't want to reference something to that degree. This time I was probably more organized than normal, where I gave out computer printouts of what instrumentation I wanted to do.
“When the Wheels Don't Move” sounds like a good song to stretch out live on. For you as a bandleader, how do you decide what songs to jam, where it's exploratory without being meandering?
Usually the songs determine their own course. I guess it's sort of intuitive, whatever songs seem to want to go in that direction, or perhaps there's more room for dynamics in that song. You're right: “When the Wheels Don't Move” is one that has evolved like that in the live context.
What was your working process like with Ben Gibbard on “Kerouac's Big Sur?”
It was great, a collaborative effort in the sense we were trading off ideas and vocals. His interpretations of the songs I wrote were much better than I could have done. We traded off ideas on approach, instrumentation and the editing process on a couple song structures.
I was reading an interview with Robert Plant from a couple years ago where he mentions that he'd been listening to your records. How does that impact you, when a legend like that is listening to your music, which could possibly in turn influence theirs?
Yeah, I remember hearing that too, and I never actually saw it, so I questioned the veracity of it. But someone like Robert, who's an icon and has such a legacy, it's humbling in one sense and inspiring to just keep doing it.
Son Volt plays The Handlebar at 9 p.m. Nov. 20 (with Peter Bruntnell). Tickets are $17. For more information on the show, check out
864-233-6173.
And for more on Son Volt, check out www.sonvolt.net.



