MATT WATTS INTERVIEW
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ANTWERP, Belgium - Matt Watts, the American-turned-Antwerpian ("From Philadelphia to the Falconplein" should be the title of his eventual biography), has just released his new album 'Songs From A Window' on Starman Records. After 8 years in Antwerp, his Dutch is quite excellent, but Keys and Chords likes to practise its English language skills. Read on, for a chat with the friendly Watts, about inspiration, dedication and fascination. And do buy his album. Say no to illegal downloads.
Julian De Backer: "Good afternoon, Mr. Watts. Congratulations on the new album. I liked it a lot." Matt Watts: "Good afternoon. Well, I'm glad." Julian: "Very minimalistic cover art. Was that a conscious choice?" Matt: "Actually, I had nothing to do with it. The man I sing with, the guy with the big hair (Jan Verstraeten indeed has a very funky hairdo, ed.) did the artwork. It's not a picture, it's a sculpture. He went to a few parties, and asked people if he could make moulds of their hands or other body parts. He had the idea to put all the moulds together, and make "people". But his project didn't have any success, and out of frustration he painted the face black. Then he destroyed everything. But he kept a photo, and when he heard the record, he thought it would be good for the cover art." Julian: "Did he have any other ideas for the cover art?" Matt: "He never let me see it, but he was pretty sold on the eventual idea. He immediately messaged me that photo, and I thought it would be great. Then we had to convince everybody to let us do it in pink." Julian: "When I read your autobiography - growing up in Philadelphia, composing your own songs at 15 - I thought of 'Johnny B. Goode', the character from the Chuck Berry song. The picture of you carrying your guitar in a gunny sack, composing and doing your own thing. Is there any truth to my idea?" |
Matt: "I do feel very connected to nature. I was born in Philadelphia, but I moved after two years. My parents are quite nomadic as it turns out. My father was a preacher and he moved everywhere, every two years, up and down the States. I guess I have always been kind of wandering. When I was fourteen, my dad got a job in Montana, and I was living on the East Coast. So, for me, it was really the middle of nowhere. I had no idea what to expect. There are more cows than people."
Julian: "Montana? When I think of Montana, I see the plains and the vistas from 'Jurassic Park', where they're digging up dinosaur bones. That's Montana for me."
Matt: "Yeah, for us too. I didn't get close enough to any excavations. But for us, it was near Canada. Glaciers, bisons, not a lot of people. I could see from one end of the town to the other."
Julian: "Americana."
Matt: "Really crazy people with guns out there."
Julian: "So, you moved a lot, you travelled a lot. Would you say there's one state that includes what you would or could call your hometown?"
Matt: "No. My mom and dad are from the South, but I never felt too at home there. When I was seventeen, I moved out of my parents' place, and I decided to go on my own and play. I went to Washington State, to Spokane, which is a few hours away from Seattle."
Julian: "Do your parents still live on the East Coast?"
Matt: "No, actually, they live in Sicily now."
Julian: "Oh! That's something else entirely."
Matt: "They kept going. The whole family did. I have one sister in Alaska, and another sister in South Carolina."
Julian: "Did your parents visit Belgium already?"
Matt: "They're coming tonight."
Julian: "Great!"
Matt: "They visit whenever they're sick of the warm weather, and I try to visit as often as I can."
Julian: "How nice, to be able to have your parents present when you present your album. You can show them what you did."
Matt: "Yeah. For a while - when I was seventeen, when I moved out - they didn't think it was the best decision. They didn't truly understand. When I was growing up, I was only allowed to listen to gospel music. They were very strict. When I was fifteen, I started playing in bands: punk, bluegrass ... they didn't necessarily know what to do with that. But now they're very supportive."
Julian: "How funny. It's such a common theme: American musicians have to listen to gospel in their youth, and their parents never understand their desire to make rock or pop music. Terence Trent D'Arby, Katy Perry etcetera all had to rebel at one point against their parents' influence."
Matt: "Yeah, I couldn't get around gospel. Sometimes, I didn't mind. Real gospel has elements of blues. I found my ways around it. I got Elvis' gospel ..."
Julian: "Yeah! I just wanted to say: "Elvis' gospel is amazing". 'If I Can Dream'."
Matt: "In the South, Elvis is kinda ... anything from Elvis is okay!"
Julian: "My father's a big fan."
Matt: "Oh, that's great."
Julian: "There's two videos called 'He Touched Me', featuring nothing but gospel."
Matt: "They've made quite a few compilations."
Julian: "He did amazing stuff. Let's talk about your music! The song 'Unkind', song number 7, ends with church bells ..."
Matt: "Oh, no, that's the other one. That's the one after."
Julian (starts counting): "Three, four, five ... darn, you're right! Number seven is 'To Keep You Here For A While'. I'm sorry. It ends with church bells of chimes. That's very Belgian of you. If there's one country that has more churches than people, it's Belgium. Where did you get the idea to have the song segue into a ..."
Matt: "I didn't have the idea. I just happened to be there. I was in Borgerhout, where I recorded half the record and I was overdubbing. All the songs were recorded live, but with a couple of overdubs. One of them was a harmonica. I was doing that, while we heard church bells all of a sudden. After I was finished, we heard it and we just stopped. We became quiet, so we could hear the bells. Then we just waited again for a few hours, and recorded them again. That's why you hear the double effect."
Julian: "It fits beautifully. As if it was intended."
Matt: "It just happened. I knew it needed something else, but I didn't know what."
Julian: "Montana? When I think of Montana, I see the plains and the vistas from 'Jurassic Park', where they're digging up dinosaur bones. That's Montana for me."
Matt: "Yeah, for us too. I didn't get close enough to any excavations. But for us, it was near Canada. Glaciers, bisons, not a lot of people. I could see from one end of the town to the other."
Julian: "Americana."
Matt: "Really crazy people with guns out there."
Julian: "So, you moved a lot, you travelled a lot. Would you say there's one state that includes what you would or could call your hometown?"
Matt: "No. My mom and dad are from the South, but I never felt too at home there. When I was seventeen, I moved out of my parents' place, and I decided to go on my own and play. I went to Washington State, to Spokane, which is a few hours away from Seattle."
Julian: "Do your parents still live on the East Coast?"
Matt: "No, actually, they live in Sicily now."
Julian: "Oh! That's something else entirely."
Matt: "They kept going. The whole family did. I have one sister in Alaska, and another sister in South Carolina."
Julian: "Did your parents visit Belgium already?"
Matt: "They're coming tonight."
Julian: "Great!"
Matt: "They visit whenever they're sick of the warm weather, and I try to visit as often as I can."
Julian: "How nice, to be able to have your parents present when you present your album. You can show them what you did."
Matt: "Yeah. For a while - when I was seventeen, when I moved out - they didn't think it was the best decision. They didn't truly understand. When I was growing up, I was only allowed to listen to gospel music. They were very strict. When I was fifteen, I started playing in bands: punk, bluegrass ... they didn't necessarily know what to do with that. But now they're very supportive."
Julian: "How funny. It's such a common theme: American musicians have to listen to gospel in their youth, and their parents never understand their desire to make rock or pop music. Terence Trent D'Arby, Katy Perry etcetera all had to rebel at one point against their parents' influence."
Matt: "Yeah, I couldn't get around gospel. Sometimes, I didn't mind. Real gospel has elements of blues. I found my ways around it. I got Elvis' gospel ..."
Julian: "Yeah! I just wanted to say: "Elvis' gospel is amazing". 'If I Can Dream'."
Matt: "In the South, Elvis is kinda ... anything from Elvis is okay!"
Julian: "My father's a big fan."
Matt: "Oh, that's great."
Julian: "There's two videos called 'He Touched Me', featuring nothing but gospel."
Matt: "They've made quite a few compilations."
Julian: "He did amazing stuff. Let's talk about your music! The song 'Unkind', song number 7, ends with church bells ..."
Matt: "Oh, no, that's the other one. That's the one after."
Julian (starts counting): "Three, four, five ... darn, you're right! Number seven is 'To Keep You Here For A While'. I'm sorry. It ends with church bells of chimes. That's very Belgian of you. If there's one country that has more churches than people, it's Belgium. Where did you get the idea to have the song segue into a ..."
Matt: "I didn't have the idea. I just happened to be there. I was in Borgerhout, where I recorded half the record and I was overdubbing. All the songs were recorded live, but with a couple of overdubs. One of them was a harmonica. I was doing that, while we heard church bells all of a sudden. After I was finished, we heard it and we just stopped. We became quiet, so we could hear the bells. Then we just waited again for a few hours, and recorded them again. That's why you hear the double effect."
Julian: "It fits beautifully. As if it was intended."
Matt: "It just happened. I knew it needed something else, but I didn't know what."
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Julian: "How are you going to recreate the sound when you're playing the song during a live concert? Do you have a sample of the church bells?"
Matt: "No, those things only happen once and it happened on the record. It's a moment that has passed. It was great, but I can't recreate that moment forever. The song itself has other meanings. I really like the church bells, and I thought about bringing somebody with a bell ..." Julian: "A cowbell, maybe. You always need more cowbell." Matt: "Yeah! But it would take away from the moment, for me. That's what so special about it. It can never happen again." Julian: "Indeed. I'm a big fan of beautiful phrases. Maybe I can read some of my favourites from your album, and you can tell me the story or the meaning behind the phrase?" |
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Matt: "Sure."
Julian: "From 'Did You Have To Be So Cruel', there's "Everyone you meet seems to want everything you've got" ..."
Matt: "It's the idea of ... (sigh). I was a little strung-out, you meet people and they take advantage of you, and of your kindness. That's what that line refers to. The actual song is about being a burden to other people. When you're down and out, and you're trying to get to a better place ..."
Julian: "Stuck in a moment you can't get out of?"
Matt: "Yeah, just strung-out. Doing bad stuff, staying out late. You lose sight of a lot, and eventually you end up not being able to handle it. When I say: "Did you have to be so cruel?", I'm not asking anyone. I'm actually talking to myself. It's a cruel thing, when you get that way."
Julian: "Do you try to avoid those situations nowadays?"
Matt: "Yes, I try to avoid it, but it's very, very hard. I just try to focus on my work, because that's the most important thing for me. But it's hard. You can get caught up in things easily, and before you know it, you're right back where you started."
Julian: "It's so easy to make the same mistakes."
Matt: "After a few times, I think: "Something has to change"."
Julian: "Indeed, indeed. In 'Orphans', quite possibly the best song on the album, you mention: "Her fist, a book of a thousand names". Do explain."
Matt: "It's weird. I wrote that song ... hm, how do I explain? When I write a song, the environment that I'm in has a big effect on what the song will be. Say I have a feeling of hunger, then I'm going to write about being hungry. Everything going on around me gets into the song as well. Actually, the book of a thousand names is a list of people who have died. Because I wrote this during one of the many conflicts between Israel and Palestine. The other lines are about a friend of mine. We felt apart from a lot of people, and I was writing about that. Some lines have biblical overtones."
Julian: "Indeed, I was wondering about the 'Mary' you mention. Paul McCartney once said that his Mary, in 'Let It Be', was just his mother Mary."
Matt: "My mother is also called Mary."
Julian: "Gospel again! Last phrase I'd like to hear explained: "No one knows your name or the kind you have disowned", from 'Bitterness'."
Matt: "'Bitterness' is a damning song. I opened for a country band. I really like them a lot, and they're amazing musicians, but they play country music. I like it when people do that, but they seemed to have lost their identity. So many Belgian musicians sing in English - and that's cool - but they shouldn't squeeze out all details that would give them away as being Belgian. I don't like that. I prefer Belgian artists that just go with being Belgian."
Julian: "Authentic, right?"
Matt: "Authentic, indeed. The band in question is very good. But: there's a line. They sing with a thicker American accent than I do."
Julian: "I can understand why you want to sing in English, because it's more international. But you still have to keep your identity, and not disown it."
Matt: "I'm a very big fan of Jacques Brel. I love Jacques Brel. I'm researching his lyrics, so I can understand what he's saying."
Julian: "I think it's great that you know Jacques Brel."
Matt: "He's my favourite Belgian singer. Especially his last album, right before he died, features unbelievable songwriting. I can imagine myself in a smoky club with my suit on, singing these French songs. I would like to be that person, but I'm not. You have to keep focused on who you are, but you can incorporate things. From watching Jacques Brel play online, I can learn a lot. He's the reason why - on some of my albums - I have classical guitar. I went back to that. I loved the way he used it, and I loved the way he phrased things."
Julian: "He was a real performer, on stage. It's theater. Vaudeville. Big emotions. And he's real."
Matt: "Yeah. One of my all-time favourite songs is 'Le Plat Pays' and when he sings it, sweat pouring down his face ... I truly adore his music. But: you can still keep your identity, and learn things from people and take them, and put them into your music. Some interviewers that write about me will say: "When I listen to your music, I see the mountains in Montana". But no, I'm writing these songs about Antwerp ..."
Julian: "Borgerhout!"
Matt: "Yeah, I live on the Falconplein, you know? I'm writing about people here. Whenever I write about America, "back home", I write about a place I don't know anymore. I have lived here for 8 years now, which is longer than I've lived anywhere in my life."
Julian: "Now that you mention it, I never pictured anything American in your songs. It's true. It's universal."
Matt: "It's folk. It's about here."
Julian: "Have you ever heard the Dutch versions of Jacques Brel's songs?"
Matt: "I have heard a couple, like 'Marieke' and 'Mijn Vlakke Land'."
Julian: "He actually is a Flemish guy, who just happened to speak French."
Matt: "I learned a lot, by comparing the versions. And asking my wife."
Julian: "Oh, you're married?"
Matt: "I'm married."
Julian: "That I did not know. Congratulations!"
Matt: "Thank you."
Julian: "Have you ever heard of the Antwerp writer Maarten Inghels?"
Matt: "Yes. He's a friend of mine. He lives around the corner."
Julian: "Oh, great! He has a concept called 'The Lonely Funeral', in which he writes a poem for someone who gets buried alone. Your soothing songs could also be a sort of hymn of serenade for lonely people. You should consider working with Maarten."
Matt: "Yeah, Maarten ... I met Maarten through Max Temmerman. Max is the reason why records like 'Songs From A Window' come out. Max pushed me really hard. He wrote a poem for the vinyl-only release of my previous record. And wanted people to really understand that the album, recorded with a Flemish band, was about here. Max and his boyfriend are very good friends of mine.
Maarten and I, we watch football together. We walk to the store together. I also like Nikki, his girlfriend, a lot."
Julian: "Yes, she's lovely. She works in the bookstore."
Matt: "'De Groene Waterman'."
Julian: "When I heard your songs, I considered them an excellent fit for 'The Lonely Funeral'."
Matt: "'The Lonely Funeral' is a really, really great idea. Maarten is doing a lot of good things."
Julian: "He's like the patron saint of the lonely and the deceased."
Matt: "I like him. I like his posse. Guys like Michaël Vandebril and Andy Fierens ..."
Julian: "Oh, yes, Andy Fierens. Quite the talented poet and actor."
Matt: "Good guy. I always get lost in his beard."
Julian: "Haha, I think everybody gets lost in his beard. Food, as well. Before listening to songs - not just your songs - I like to take a gander at song titles and see how the eventual song matches my preconception and/or prejudice. 'Orphans' reminded me of two things: the excellent Tom Waits album with rarities and outtakes, and the Lemony Snicket book series ..."
Matt: "The 'Series of Unfortunate Events'?"
Julian: "Yeah. Indeed. The orphans. Would you say one of those - either Tom Waits or Lemony Snicket - inspired you?"
Matt: "Uhm, actually, what inspired me was ... I was just playing my guitar in my room. My wife was studying for school. I was sent to my room, with my guitar. I was listening to a hell of a lot Frank Zappa. The main part of 'Orphans' is me trying to play 'Cosmik Debris'. And I couldn't play it!"
Julian: "Aiming high."
Matt: "I stumbled upon that riff, so I started writing. And furthermore, there's inspiration from the TV that was on. Everything I was reading, my feelings, my conflicts ... I had a bit of a falling out with a very good friend of mine. Well, not a falling out. He still lives in Montana, and we've moved on so much since then."
Julian: "He has a different mindset?"
Matt: "He lives in a different place, and we've been apart for so long. Now, there's just nothing to say to each other anymore. We were very close, though. 'Orphans' reflects that. Back then, it was just the two of us - away from our parents. We ended up playing in bands together."
Julian: "Isn't it weird? You can be best buds, best friends in the world growing up. And at a certain point, you just don't connect anymore? When you're 10 years old, you think you'll spend the rest of your life with your best friend. And then it doesn't happen, and you never see him again. Or you see him once or twice and you have nothing to talk about. I don't know why that happens. I don't get it."
Matt: "I wonder how different people actually turn out. That particular friend came over to visit me once ..."
Julian: "In Belgium?"
Matt: "In Belgium. But we were quite different. He's an organic farmer now, in Montana. And I'm here, kind of doing the same thing as back then. When I left, I was trying to make music and release records."
Julian: "So weird."
Matt: "But we're both married and ... I don't know. You just feel it."
Julian: "Final question. There's a saying going 'An artist needs tragedy to write songs'. For example, Springsteen once thanked his father for the difficult relationship they had, otherwise he wouldn't have been so successful. 'I tried writing happy songs in the early 90's, and no one liked them' he said. I do like his happy songs, though. Do you agree? Do you think one needs tragedy to write songs? Or can you write a happy, optimistic ditty?"
Matt: "I don't think you need tragedy per se. Most of life is just pretty boring, and not worth writing about. I can write a song, and some people will think it's sad. But I can see a lot of happiness that they don't see. A lot of people say: "I can't write, unless I'm unhappy". I read an interview with a musician saying: "Nothing bad has happened in my life, so I can't write a record". That's crap. I don't trust that at all. When something serious happens, I don't write about it - unless I have a moment of clarity and something to hang on to. If it's a true tragedy and I'm completely alone and lost, how could I write? I can't. It's just too crippling. (sighs) There's this guy out here trying to make a movie of me. And that's cool. But he's trying to make it look like things are really bad for me. But now I have a record coming out. And I've released a lot of records. That's part of life. Things happen to you. It's just life. I don't like it. Sometimes I get sick of it. But it's the boring things that ... when things get really boring, then I can't write. Solution? I just go somewhere else. I take a trip. I go to Ghent and forget where I am, and then I come back."
Julian: "But I guess right now, you're happy, right? You have an excellent album coming out, you're doing a gig tonight. I can assume you're happy?"
Matt: "I'm anxious. Because I want to be on the road. This past year, I tried to make another record with my old band that failed. Country music with the live feeling of a punk record, even though it's just country music. It didn't work out. That's how this record got made. Because I had all these songs that I couldn't play with the band. That's where it came from. I'm really itching to get out on the road. I love making albums, and I write constantly. I've written a lot of songs since then. But I really need to play. Because when you're out, in front of people, and you can play ... there's more of a connection. Because I don't go out, man. I stay at home. I have a normal life. If I'm not looking for a job, I'm working in a bar, trying to get the groceries, visiting the family or wondering where I'm going to go on vacation. I don't have a lot of contact with people. When I'm sitting out there in front of people, it's like telling a bunch of strangers you aren't strange. It's the only thing I know how to do with music. I'm not a studio musician, I don't know anything about that."
Julian: "I wish you the best of luck. I hope you can go on the road a lot."
Matt: "Thanks. We'll see."
Julian: "I'm very curious to find out what you have in store for us, or up your sleeve."
Matt: "Yeah, I just want to play more."
Julian: "I'll be sure to tell all my friends to buy your album."
Matt: "That'd be great. Tell them to go buy it in local shops."
Julian: "I love local stores. My favourite's FatKat, in the Lange Koepoortstraat in Antwerp."
Matt: "And Tune-Up. Carlo got me in contact with Felix from Starman Records."
Julian: "He did the same for Mauro. He's the big match-maker."
Matt: "He's the Italian Hitman I thank in my liner notes. That's his deejay name."
Julian: "Thank you for your time. Looking forward to the concert tonight."
Matt: "Great, man."
Julian: "From 'Did You Have To Be So Cruel', there's "Everyone you meet seems to want everything you've got" ..."
Matt: "It's the idea of ... (sigh). I was a little strung-out, you meet people and they take advantage of you, and of your kindness. That's what that line refers to. The actual song is about being a burden to other people. When you're down and out, and you're trying to get to a better place ..."
Julian: "Stuck in a moment you can't get out of?"
Matt: "Yeah, just strung-out. Doing bad stuff, staying out late. You lose sight of a lot, and eventually you end up not being able to handle it. When I say: "Did you have to be so cruel?", I'm not asking anyone. I'm actually talking to myself. It's a cruel thing, when you get that way."
Julian: "Do you try to avoid those situations nowadays?"
Matt: "Yes, I try to avoid it, but it's very, very hard. I just try to focus on my work, because that's the most important thing for me. But it's hard. You can get caught up in things easily, and before you know it, you're right back where you started."
Julian: "It's so easy to make the same mistakes."
Matt: "After a few times, I think: "Something has to change"."
Julian: "Indeed, indeed. In 'Orphans', quite possibly the best song on the album, you mention: "Her fist, a book of a thousand names". Do explain."
Matt: "It's weird. I wrote that song ... hm, how do I explain? When I write a song, the environment that I'm in has a big effect on what the song will be. Say I have a feeling of hunger, then I'm going to write about being hungry. Everything going on around me gets into the song as well. Actually, the book of a thousand names is a list of people who have died. Because I wrote this during one of the many conflicts between Israel and Palestine. The other lines are about a friend of mine. We felt apart from a lot of people, and I was writing about that. Some lines have biblical overtones."
Julian: "Indeed, I was wondering about the 'Mary' you mention. Paul McCartney once said that his Mary, in 'Let It Be', was just his mother Mary."
Matt: "My mother is also called Mary."
Julian: "Gospel again! Last phrase I'd like to hear explained: "No one knows your name or the kind you have disowned", from 'Bitterness'."
Matt: "'Bitterness' is a damning song. I opened for a country band. I really like them a lot, and they're amazing musicians, but they play country music. I like it when people do that, but they seemed to have lost their identity. So many Belgian musicians sing in English - and that's cool - but they shouldn't squeeze out all details that would give them away as being Belgian. I don't like that. I prefer Belgian artists that just go with being Belgian."
Julian: "Authentic, right?"
Matt: "Authentic, indeed. The band in question is very good. But: there's a line. They sing with a thicker American accent than I do."
Julian: "I can understand why you want to sing in English, because it's more international. But you still have to keep your identity, and not disown it."
Matt: "I'm a very big fan of Jacques Brel. I love Jacques Brel. I'm researching his lyrics, so I can understand what he's saying."
Julian: "I think it's great that you know Jacques Brel."
Matt: "He's my favourite Belgian singer. Especially his last album, right before he died, features unbelievable songwriting. I can imagine myself in a smoky club with my suit on, singing these French songs. I would like to be that person, but I'm not. You have to keep focused on who you are, but you can incorporate things. From watching Jacques Brel play online, I can learn a lot. He's the reason why - on some of my albums - I have classical guitar. I went back to that. I loved the way he used it, and I loved the way he phrased things."
Julian: "He was a real performer, on stage. It's theater. Vaudeville. Big emotions. And he's real."
Matt: "Yeah. One of my all-time favourite songs is 'Le Plat Pays' and when he sings it, sweat pouring down his face ... I truly adore his music. But: you can still keep your identity, and learn things from people and take them, and put them into your music. Some interviewers that write about me will say: "When I listen to your music, I see the mountains in Montana". But no, I'm writing these songs about Antwerp ..."
Julian: "Borgerhout!"
Matt: "Yeah, I live on the Falconplein, you know? I'm writing about people here. Whenever I write about America, "back home", I write about a place I don't know anymore. I have lived here for 8 years now, which is longer than I've lived anywhere in my life."
Julian: "Now that you mention it, I never pictured anything American in your songs. It's true. It's universal."
Matt: "It's folk. It's about here."
Julian: "Have you ever heard the Dutch versions of Jacques Brel's songs?"
Matt: "I have heard a couple, like 'Marieke' and 'Mijn Vlakke Land'."
Julian: "He actually is a Flemish guy, who just happened to speak French."
Matt: "I learned a lot, by comparing the versions. And asking my wife."
Julian: "Oh, you're married?"
Matt: "I'm married."
Julian: "That I did not know. Congratulations!"
Matt: "Thank you."
Julian: "Have you ever heard of the Antwerp writer Maarten Inghels?"
Matt: "Yes. He's a friend of mine. He lives around the corner."
Julian: "Oh, great! He has a concept called 'The Lonely Funeral', in which he writes a poem for someone who gets buried alone. Your soothing songs could also be a sort of hymn of serenade for lonely people. You should consider working with Maarten."
Matt: "Yeah, Maarten ... I met Maarten through Max Temmerman. Max is the reason why records like 'Songs From A Window' come out. Max pushed me really hard. He wrote a poem for the vinyl-only release of my previous record. And wanted people to really understand that the album, recorded with a Flemish band, was about here. Max and his boyfriend are very good friends of mine.
Maarten and I, we watch football together. We walk to the store together. I also like Nikki, his girlfriend, a lot."
Julian: "Yes, she's lovely. She works in the bookstore."
Matt: "'De Groene Waterman'."
Julian: "When I heard your songs, I considered them an excellent fit for 'The Lonely Funeral'."
Matt: "'The Lonely Funeral' is a really, really great idea. Maarten is doing a lot of good things."
Julian: "He's like the patron saint of the lonely and the deceased."
Matt: "I like him. I like his posse. Guys like Michaël Vandebril and Andy Fierens ..."
Julian: "Oh, yes, Andy Fierens. Quite the talented poet and actor."
Matt: "Good guy. I always get lost in his beard."
Julian: "Haha, I think everybody gets lost in his beard. Food, as well. Before listening to songs - not just your songs - I like to take a gander at song titles and see how the eventual song matches my preconception and/or prejudice. 'Orphans' reminded me of two things: the excellent Tom Waits album with rarities and outtakes, and the Lemony Snicket book series ..."
Matt: "The 'Series of Unfortunate Events'?"
Julian: "Yeah. Indeed. The orphans. Would you say one of those - either Tom Waits or Lemony Snicket - inspired you?"
Matt: "Uhm, actually, what inspired me was ... I was just playing my guitar in my room. My wife was studying for school. I was sent to my room, with my guitar. I was listening to a hell of a lot Frank Zappa. The main part of 'Orphans' is me trying to play 'Cosmik Debris'. And I couldn't play it!"
Julian: "Aiming high."
Matt: "I stumbled upon that riff, so I started writing. And furthermore, there's inspiration from the TV that was on. Everything I was reading, my feelings, my conflicts ... I had a bit of a falling out with a very good friend of mine. Well, not a falling out. He still lives in Montana, and we've moved on so much since then."
Julian: "He has a different mindset?"
Matt: "He lives in a different place, and we've been apart for so long. Now, there's just nothing to say to each other anymore. We were very close, though. 'Orphans' reflects that. Back then, it was just the two of us - away from our parents. We ended up playing in bands together."
Julian: "Isn't it weird? You can be best buds, best friends in the world growing up. And at a certain point, you just don't connect anymore? When you're 10 years old, you think you'll spend the rest of your life with your best friend. And then it doesn't happen, and you never see him again. Or you see him once or twice and you have nothing to talk about. I don't know why that happens. I don't get it."
Matt: "I wonder how different people actually turn out. That particular friend came over to visit me once ..."
Julian: "In Belgium?"
Matt: "In Belgium. But we were quite different. He's an organic farmer now, in Montana. And I'm here, kind of doing the same thing as back then. When I left, I was trying to make music and release records."
Julian: "So weird."
Matt: "But we're both married and ... I don't know. You just feel it."
Julian: "Final question. There's a saying going 'An artist needs tragedy to write songs'. For example, Springsteen once thanked his father for the difficult relationship they had, otherwise he wouldn't have been so successful. 'I tried writing happy songs in the early 90's, and no one liked them' he said. I do like his happy songs, though. Do you agree? Do you think one needs tragedy to write songs? Or can you write a happy, optimistic ditty?"
Matt: "I don't think you need tragedy per se. Most of life is just pretty boring, and not worth writing about. I can write a song, and some people will think it's sad. But I can see a lot of happiness that they don't see. A lot of people say: "I can't write, unless I'm unhappy". I read an interview with a musician saying: "Nothing bad has happened in my life, so I can't write a record". That's crap. I don't trust that at all. When something serious happens, I don't write about it - unless I have a moment of clarity and something to hang on to. If it's a true tragedy and I'm completely alone and lost, how could I write? I can't. It's just too crippling. (sighs) There's this guy out here trying to make a movie of me. And that's cool. But he's trying to make it look like things are really bad for me. But now I have a record coming out. And I've released a lot of records. That's part of life. Things happen to you. It's just life. I don't like it. Sometimes I get sick of it. But it's the boring things that ... when things get really boring, then I can't write. Solution? I just go somewhere else. I take a trip. I go to Ghent and forget where I am, and then I come back."
Julian: "But I guess right now, you're happy, right? You have an excellent album coming out, you're doing a gig tonight. I can assume you're happy?"
Matt: "I'm anxious. Because I want to be on the road. This past year, I tried to make another record with my old band that failed. Country music with the live feeling of a punk record, even though it's just country music. It didn't work out. That's how this record got made. Because I had all these songs that I couldn't play with the band. That's where it came from. I'm really itching to get out on the road. I love making albums, and I write constantly. I've written a lot of songs since then. But I really need to play. Because when you're out, in front of people, and you can play ... there's more of a connection. Because I don't go out, man. I stay at home. I have a normal life. If I'm not looking for a job, I'm working in a bar, trying to get the groceries, visiting the family or wondering where I'm going to go on vacation. I don't have a lot of contact with people. When I'm sitting out there in front of people, it's like telling a bunch of strangers you aren't strange. It's the only thing I know how to do with music. I'm not a studio musician, I don't know anything about that."
Julian: "I wish you the best of luck. I hope you can go on the road a lot."
Matt: "Thanks. We'll see."
Julian: "I'm very curious to find out what you have in store for us, or up your sleeve."
Matt: "Yeah, I just want to play more."
Julian: "I'll be sure to tell all my friends to buy your album."
Matt: "That'd be great. Tell them to go buy it in local shops."
Julian: "I love local stores. My favourite's FatKat, in the Lange Koepoortstraat in Antwerp."
Matt: "And Tune-Up. Carlo got me in contact with Felix from Starman Records."
Julian: "He did the same for Mauro. He's the big match-maker."
Matt: "He's the Italian Hitman I thank in my liner notes. That's his deejay name."
Julian: "Thank you for your time. Looking forward to the concert tonight."
Matt: "Great, man."
Julian De Backer © / foto's: Starman Records