Drawing on his roots, a rock guitarist finds a new rhythm in Nashville
Until recently, songwriter Jonathan Wilson recorded his solo albums the way he handcrafts his own guitars as a luthier. An auteur and multi-instrumentalist who鈥檚 as comfortable behind a studio mixing console as he is behind a drum kit, he would painstakingly chisel and lathe each layer until the final album gleamed under its lacquered varnish.聽
But after spending nine months recording the 2018 album 鈥淩are Birds鈥� 鈥� a 鈥渕aximalist鈥� production with 1980s touchstones such as Fleetwood Mac鈥檚 鈥淭ango in the Night鈥� 鈥� Mr. Wilson yearned 鈥渏ust to go somewhere, get completely out of my zone, and to do something completely different.鈥�
His new album, 鈥淒ixie Blur,鈥� is, in every way, the antithesis of its lush predecessor. It鈥檚 a rustic Americana album recorded entirely live in just six days with a group of strangers in a completely foreign environment. He鈥檚 left splinters in the record 鈥� adopting a pared-down, roots-driven path to his latest sound.
Why We Wrote This
Taking risks artistically can lead to new ways of thinking. When Jonathan Wilson, a detail-oriented musician, loosened his control over the final product, he found a new approach to expressing himself.
鈥淔olks might look to me for like a psychedelic, rock-y, California song vibe or something like that. I wouldn鈥檛 want to get into the conundrum of trying to constantly be that guy,鈥� says Mr. Wilson, also an in-demand session player, co-writer, and producer for the likes of Pink Floyd鈥檚 Roger Waters, Lana Del Rey, and Father John Misty. 鈥淚t bums me out when I hear artists that make the same song again.鈥� 聽
Credit Americana icon Steve Earle for inspiring the concept for 鈥淒ixie Blur鈥� during a radio program last year. 鈥淲e were doing this NPR show and he was like, 鈥楳aybe you should go to Nashville,鈥欌�� recalls Mr. Wilson, who is based in Los Angeles.聽
After that, he called up his friend Patrick Sansone from the band Wilco to co-produce the album and also act as a guide to the best studio and session musicians in Tennessee.聽
It seemed to Mr. Wilson that the songs he鈥檇 been working on could work with instruments such as fiddles and pedal steel guitar. After composing 鈥淩are Birds鈥� on a Steinway piano, Mr. Wilson returned to writing on an acoustic guitar for the latest album. It simplifies things harmonically, he says. Just strumming a G chord suggested a more bluegrass and country feel. Of late, he鈥檇 also begun to reflect on his own Southern roots in lyrics such as those on the autobiographical new 鈥�69 Corvette.鈥澛�
Mr. Wilson, who has a night job as one of the principal guitarists and vocalists in Mr. Waters鈥� band, wrote the song during a 157-date world tour with the former Pink Floyd songwriter. The song鈥檚 refrain about missing home emerged during a several-day layover in 鈥淧oland or something,鈥� he says, expressing the disorientation of a touring musician who鈥檚 crossed more time zones than a satellite.
The artist recalls 鈥渏ust walking around the city by myself, going to vintage rock and clothing stores for the fifth or the 18th time.鈥� He returned to his fancy hotel, picked up his guitar, and thought to himself, 鈥溾�榃ow, this is a weird place to be from the place that I started,鈥� which was a little tiny town where there was nothing going on.鈥�
Before he became a teen guitar hero in Spindale, North Carolina, Mr. Wilson played in the Baptist church where his grandfather was a preacher and his grandmother was choir director. It gave the songwriter an appreciation for the relationship between music and spirituality: 鈥淲hen I would sit and compose some of my early stuff, I would try to join up with some sort of meditative ... spiritual element.鈥� Nowadays, the tricky part of songwriting, he says, is finding mental space because he鈥檚 鈥渢ethered to the phone and the 鈥檊ram.鈥澛�
鈥淚t can be hard, but I usually get to a place where I鈥檝e got my piano and I can sit while the rest of the planet is in bed,鈥� he says. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 the quiet time. And so that鈥檚 when the stuff comes.鈥�
The Nashville recording sessions for 鈥淒ixie Blur鈥� at Cowboy Jack Clement鈥檚 legendary Sound Emporium Studios offered a different sort of communion. Mr. Wilson felt instant musical kinship with session luminaries including Dennis Crouch (bass), Russ Pahl (pedal steel guitar), and Mark O鈥機onnor (fiddle). Beneath the dusky lights in Studio A, where wooden awnings cast shadows over the parquet floors and Persian rugs, they recorded songs ranging from the furious gallop of 鈥淓l Camino Real鈥� to the slow lament of 鈥淩iding the Blinds.鈥� Mr. Wilson thrived on the feedback of seasoned players who said, 鈥淒on鈥檛 bore us; get to the chorus.鈥� The process allowed for spontaneity to change the tempo, the key, and the feel of the melodies 鈥� sometimes at the suggestion of the musicians.
鈥淚f the album would have been done here in Hollywood, those guys would have been asking for publishing [rights],鈥� he jokes.
Next, the songwriter has a solo for 鈥淒ixie Blur,鈥� which, he says, has the feel of a classic album.聽
鈥淭his definitely was my first time to let go and trust in the process to this extent,鈥� says Mr. Wilson, who explains his habit has been to endlessly tweak recordings to perfect them. 鈥淚t鈥檚 going to be a lot more powerful to ... actually hear that sort of a purity of a document that was done in a certain time with some soft songs.鈥�
