David Wilcox – An extraordinary storyteller with a melody

September 19, 2001
By Roger Kuhns

What every you do, DO NOT MISS THIS PERFORMANCE. David Wilcox will be telling his stories through his music at the Door Community Auditorium on Saturday, October 6. I had the opportunity to talk with David a couple of weeks before his show.

Wilcox is easy to talk to, full of expression and insight and possess an easy full laugh. His guitar playing is magic, but his lyrics tell stories that find your heart and tap into the familiar; this is what mesmerizes people, and is what you must hear. He is compared to James Taylor, but the comparison, although complimentary, does not do Wilcox justice. He’s better than that. He’s been compared to Nick Drake in his singing and composing style, and again he is more than that. His stories through song take the listener in and the emotional roller coaster ride can leave you feeling you’ve been through a whole relationship start to finish, even a whole life…and then some! He is honest. He is compassionate in his engaging philosophical way. His words roll off his tongue from a wonderful baritone voice. The compositions are intimate, funny, contemplative, sad, and hopeful.

Livingston Taylor once said of David Wilcox that he is “the best act to watch and the worst act to follow.”

Roger: “How are you doing these days?”

David: “I’ve dealing with the grief of the attacks (the terrorist attacks of September 11 on New York and Washington). I went into a song about it – that’s my way, my healer, my teacher. The song I wrote came from comments from all the neighbors; this could turn into war, and I said in some ways this is war. It must be like the same bewilderment the Red Coats felt – they probably said as they were shot at from the woods that, ‘some coward is shooting at us and that’s not fair, why don’t they come out and stand in a line in the open?’ Now this terrorism is the new war, the way they expect to fight is too expensive, so they find a new way. So this song is about a lot of things, like the history channel on war then peace, but this different kind of war, we never see it coming. Its like you’re stepping over land mines. Eventually the song turns into how do you fight a war like this, and not turn it into the fear, not turn it into a psychological war. To fight that means we find a way of finding our own personal defiance: I won’t dare not to love in war time, I won’t hide. The song is explaining that pragmatically, not spiritually. Explaining that the goal of the terrorist is to get us to over react, to wear us down, they’re whole plan is to stampede us, you know like buffalo used to be stampeded over a cliff. The twist is how to fight this war, and I take the line that Gandhi said when people said we want to fight.”

Roger: “So your own healing is also other people’s healing?”

David: “It is a healing thing. A lot of times my job is to make the song go as deep as it can, not out to as many as possible – the commercial thing – but into people. Like in this song, someone from All Things Considered called me up and asked me to play it. It is like walking a big dog, sometimes, it could be friendly or get out of control. Right now the song says, ‘Come Dave we’re going to Washington’.”

Roger: “A lot of your songs are introspective, good story songs – is that one way you see yourself, as a story teller?”

David: “Yes, I always have. I think I could easily do what I do and not play guitar. It is sometimes so confusing to me when musicians are compared by their sound, to me its what we’re saying. If you just compare sound then its like comparing the tone of a politician’s speech with another’s voice rather than speech itself. When I compare my music, it’s a lot like this or that, it’s the stirring people’s hearts with thoroughly written lyrics, gift wrapped so the listener is involved with discovering it – so it becomes they’re idea, they arrive at this conclusion – their own idea. That kind of experience is story telling. For example there is a song by Paul Simon about capital punishment, but he doesn’t say that, otherwise you might just turn it off, but he sings about pigs, sheep and wolves, and after listening to it a few times you go – Ah, that’s what he’s talking about.”

Wilcox is from suburban Cleveland, and went on to Antioch College – where he dropped out one year, and set out to start experiencing life.

Roger: “How has your new album ‘What You Whispered’ (Vanguard Records) been received?”

David: “Good. Some (of the songs) really work live, and on this one (tour) I was playing everything on the record live. The writing was different than my other records, instead of the songs having an intricate labyrinth of layers, this time my writing concentrated on distilling the central theme – when you heard the chorus you knew what it was about. That worked live really well. The story telling aspect was really different, because in some (of my songs) I needed the story to set up the song, to get inside that way of thinking, but with the new record the stories paralleled the song, they’re another reflection on the same idea – the story telling took on a thing of its own.”

Roger: “You’re working on a new album now too?”

David: “Yes, I’m mastering a new live album this afternoon. It is a bunch of stuff I’ve complied over the last month and a few songs over the last 5 years. A lot of story telling, a lot of people have been asking for this. I never knew how to do that; each song has an introduction.”

After Antioch Wilcox spent four years leading bicycle trips before he enrolled at Warren Wilson College near Asheville, N.C. (1981). There he began performing at McDibb’s and gained a small following. It was here he opened for folk singer Livingston Taylor, who encouraged him to go to Nashville to perform at the Blue Bird Café (renown for its regular open-mic night for writers). This he did after college (1988) and owner Amy Kurland heard him play, she was so impressed that he became a regular and she decided to manage him. This led to an A&M contract and his first album “How Did You Find Me Here?” in 1989.

Roger: “Who are your early influences, who is influencing you now?”

David: “My biggest early influence and the reason I play is Joni Mitchell – her songs are surprising and personal, she was writing to the people who would get it, not to the industry. It made music personal. For me that was the one. In terms of guitar it was John Martin – the tunings; he had this groove thing, it was pulling me in a direction, - a rhythmical groove. Bob Franke, a writer around Boston, influenced my writing. He has a quirky rough voice, so in order to be compelling his writing has to be spectacular and it is, he’s fearless in tackling complex emotions. You know that David Byrns says, ‘I don’t trust anyone with a good voice’!”

Roger: “One of the things you do in your guitar playing is open tunings. Tell me a bit about this, which ones do you favor?

David: There are a lot of open tunings. I do love figuring out tunings, when I was figuring out Joni Mitchell songs it was a lot like tracking all the sounds of squeaks, the finger movements and subtleties. The magic for me in open tunings is that one guitar can be many instruments; it keeps it intriguing and new. That’s important, but what it does for writing is takes you out of the familiar, you wind up getting completely lost and finding a new home – the logic of the fret board completely changes. I used to need a new tuning to write a new song. So I had 50 tunings. I like open D, G, E, and using a cross harp (harmonica), of course Ry Cooder was the one doing that. He always playing in open G in the key of B, it’s a great thing. So now I go back to tunings like DADGAD and play it in F and E and six frets up, whatever that is, and so one, and it becomes twisted and wonderful. A lot of surprises.”

Roger: “How did you figure this out?”

David: It’s always been exploring. There are people who try to understand the conversions, as if taking the logic of regular tuning and correct for that with the new tuning - its like speaking French but thinking in English – that’s way to complex for me, I don’t know the key I’m in, I just play it. I can figure that out in the studio so others can play.

Roger: “I heard you’ve toured a bit with a band; what was that like compared to your years of solo gigs – especially with your guitar style and tunings?”

David: For the album “Turning Point”(Koch Records) I wanted to tell stories of lives that were at a juncture, some were me but some were friends. So these songs are in other voices. I wanted the whole sound of it, not just the singer telling the story. I wanted other sounds – similar sounds for the audience. I wanted musicians that could really wing it. But they’d say can’t you please write a set list. I don’t do that, and I’d say, ‘Well yes that would be proficient, it’d be highly average, but it won’t be good.’ Off the stage one player was seriously pissed, he said, ‘We rehearsed twenty songs, we only played nine of those, and the others we never heard!’ For me it was seriously fun. Some players were good and others not, it was chaos. There are really only two ways to have that kind of (musical) freedom – years together or hire good intuitive players. I lost money on tour to pay these guys, but since then I’ve run into some great players.”

Wilcox has had a problem getting the hits, which the major labels require. He’s categorized as “Triple A (Adult Album Alternative) – and because of this he has a hard time selling albums in the record stores (it is a strange category to define). But he sells them at his gigs, and does more than 120 gigs annually.

Roger: “Anyone that worked with your open style?”

David: “I did a set with Mark O’Connor, he’d be right there with me. He’d really go for the daring note as if he was writing the song as we went. I’d glance at him as we were going into a tough part, and he’d smile a peaceful smile like: you can’t surprise me. It was great. It’d be nice to sell a lot of records, to pay for these great musicians, but I don’t think it’d be any better for the crowd. I like to get the night going, and as the songs change; as I get their trust I can get the momentum from one emotion to the next really moving. The thing I do best is play solo.”

Roger: What have you learned from the road?

David: “Oh, lots. I know musicians that travel because they say they have to. That sentiment is so sad. I was a traveler first; there is this whole microcosm out there. A few years ago one musician told me that he had to travel, and I said, well if you think of it that way then you waste time. But if you call yourself a traveler, take that as ‘on purpose’, to be alive and awake, to learn what the road has to teach, then its good. For example, on the shuttle this person beside me is the person beside me. Find out who they are.

This is the choreography of coincidence. The serendipity, the – what does Jung call it? – the synchronicity of it. Instead of having your day be wasted time, you’re enjoying it, all of it. What I love about playing music is the love as the end result infuses itself in to all the other seeming mundane things. Like getting up at five to catch a plane becomes part of it. It brings you life, you’re cracked open to what the world’s trying to teach you. Staying healthy happy and sane on the road is much more difficult. But it is like seeing a jogger along road and you drive up next to him and ask him to get in because you can give him a lift. And he says, ‘No I’m running.’ He’s not running because he has to. To me it carries over to so many things.

I love the traveling aspect, I love it when its difficult, when its lost luggage, I’m the person this week that doesn’t yell at them – the week with freezing rain, no food, delays, bad sound check – I’m so grateful. Otherwise there is no story; there is nothing to push against. When I’m home I can’t tell if I’m spacey, but on the road it’s difficult enough so I have to be at my best all the time, it will lead to the strangest things.

One time I realized my guitar sounded less alive at the end of a show, and I didn’t know why. Then I find the sweat from my hand deadened the strings toward the end of a set. So I asked myself, ‘How do I not sweat, why am I nervous, what is this thing I think I can’t do, do I deserve to be up in front of these people?’ But these are the wrong questions – it is what do these people deserve? So I concentrate on what they need rather than am I good enough, so now I don’t sweat and my strings sound good at the end of the night. All these little things teach me. One more thing on that: I see so many wonderful musicians, so many aspects of all this.

Travel is a big hurtle for most, what to do with the time? But you have to create your own discipline. So much of travel is designed to anesthetize, you think its alone time but its not. In a new song “Words Alone” I write about how we don’t have to blaze our own road of inspiration, we can read others words to learn from this.”

Roger: “Would you say you have a cause, something that you most often try to convey to your listeners?”

David: “If there is one thing it is probably my belief that humans are emotionally a good design, what I mean is that emotions can be trusted. There are warning lights on the dash of a car and if you know what they mean you can save a lot of time and money, but you need to read the manual and learn. But in our culture we get out the duct tape and cover up those lights, and people are driving along and the engine stops. In our system so many emotions are being denied, they’re like taboos. If there is one general thing its humans are a good design, if you trust this it won’t send you into the abyss. People are afraid of their sorrow, their anger, I’m telling people to look at their emotions. But the problems are really not that serious if you look at them regularly. When the low oil light comes on the first time, its not so serious. You just add a little oil. But if you ignore it, then, well. The way we navigate life’s path is with our emotions, the thing we’re not good at is looking at them. We’re good at anesthesia; we go watch TV or something. So the message is really rather simple, especially for men.”

“One time in Colorado at a festival the MC said (about me), ‘Now this guy is going to try to make you feel things, David Wilcox will try to get you to feel this all the time. Maybe you now only get this feeling with beer!’ I turned it to if I was into beer, then the marketing would say you couldn’t feel emotions unless you buy my beer. So I have this playful attitude. And my song “That’s What the Lonely is For”. If I had to sing just one song I’d sing this one, it is the analogy of caring for this huge castle and you always feel empty because its so big. You always feel empty; you would want to close off part of it. The heart has a lot of room for fullness – the thing I’m singing about is to trust your heart.”

Roger: “Because you write and sing music that isn’t easily categorized, how do you best get your music to the people?”

David: “I say, ‘I don’t know what kind of music I do can I play you a song?’ I love playing to people that have never heard me. The kind of music I aspire to play is the sound track of your life, so when you hear it you feel this is your song, maybe there are others involved, but that’s superfluous, this is your song – it’s something you’ve been thinking about, so it’s much bigger than coming from one singer. Its because the song is written a specific way, when you try it on it’s eerie how well it fits you, there’s an intention that I have that my music could be a tool for people to get someplace in their lives. If I was in the business of shoes it’d be like this: there are many kinds of shoes, there are stylish ones and then there are shoes you need to really get somewhere. Those shoes are designed for feet, beyond fashion, they’re not stylish because they beyond that, they’re designed to get somewhere. If I were making shoes instead of songs I’d make hiking boots. After 5 years they really fit. They’re useful.”

Roger: “What is your song writing process?”

David: “It’s always changing. It always used to be I’d get the idea, then work out the pacing, then work out the specific verses, then the chorus, then put music to that. The music would come by listening the inflections, and listening to the melody and harmonizing the melody. And that changed big time just before the last record. That’s when I realized stretching music over words made the music sound stretched. But stretching words over music sounded better. So I decided to write music first. I’d write melody and chords that felt like a melody of the song. Sometimes I’d feel something from a particular riff and see if that made the emotion feel stronger. So then I could ask what this reminded me of, what characters or events or stories. So for me it’s much better to write music first, probably because I feel I’m stronger at words. That’s the stretch; writing the music first and the words will be better because of it.”

Roger: “We look forward to your Door County performance. Anything else you’d like to add?”

David: There was one thing. I wanted to say that the performing and the writing so much reinforce each other. Many just want to do the one or the other. But there is inspiration in the writing and expression in the performance. You can’t do just one, each give the other life, like breathing in and out. I couldn’t write if I knew I wasn’t going to play for someone, and conversely if I play for someone I have to write them something. I always like to split up every month so I’m away in a steady cycle all year, thinking “Man I need more songs, then I got to get out and sing these songs.”

David is out singing his songs in Door County on Saturday, October 6 at the Door Community Auditorium.

Discography:

1. Nightshift Watchman (1987; Song of the Woods label)
2. How Did You Find Me Here? (1988; A&M)
3. Home Again (1991; A&M)
4. Big Horizon (1994; A&M)
5. East Asheville Hardware (1995; Koch Records)
6. Turning Point (1996; Koch Records USA)
7. Underneath (1998; Vanguard Records)
8. What You Whispered (2000; Vanguard Records)

Visit David’s website at: www.davidwilcox.com