Catching Up With… John Vanderslice
John Vanderslice has been making music since his teenage years, but it was the early ‘90s when one of his bands, MK Ultra, started gaining national attention. In 1997, he founded his own recording studio, Tiny Telephone, in San Francisco. There, he’s recorded the likes of Death Cab For Cutie, Spoon, Okkervil River and Deerhoof.
After recording numerous solo studio albums, Vanderslice met Minna Choi of Magik Magik Orchestra, and his music has never been the same since. On his new album, White Wilderness (out this week on Dead Oceans), Vanderslice’s soft, high-pitched croon is surrounded by a 20-person orchestra, lending the music a transcendent quality that lifts it from the veteran songwriter’s traditional bedroom-esque atmosphere to an entirely different setting. Paste recently caught up with Vanderslice and found out how powerful performing with an orchestra can be, why Choi is his hero, and why soundchecks suck.
Paste: Do you get tired of touring?
Vanderslice: I would say that what happens is that there’s definitely a physical cost. Sometimes it feels like you’re doing physical damage to your body after six or seven weeks. But the shows are awesome. I mean, it’s kinda cliché and you hear this a lot, but the time on stage is incredible. If you’re into something—if you’re into playing tennis or stamp collecting like I was as a kid—the thing that got you there is always exciting. It’s just all the stuff that surrounds it that wears you down.
For me, honestly, it was soundcheck. I stopped wanting to tour because of soundcheck. I couldn’t take it. It’s like you’re playing a duplicate show with feedback—not in front of a crowd, and you’re not getting paid.
Paste: So if you could eliminate one part of your job, it would be soundcheck?
Vanderslice: If I could do without soundcheck… Well, for instance, last year, I only played about 25 shows all year because I was recording a lot. And I made an agreement with myself that I would only do solo shows all year because of the soundcheck problem. And I had so much fun. It was such an incredible year for shows.
I would be my own tour manager. I wouldn’t tour with anyone. I would fly in, rent a car. It was an incredible experience; it was so different. You’re on stage sometimes for an hour and 15 minutes with just you and your guitar, and it’s pretty awesome.
Paste: So you didn’t even have to go through soundcheck.
Vanderslice: Yeah, I just took it out of there. Then it’s just the raw—most vocalists have vocal problems. It’s not really talked about. When you’re touring and doing six or seven weeks in a row, you start to get worn down. Like most people who play sports are physically fucked up. If we were to ask an NBA player who’s 30-years-old, ’”How do you feel about the game?” it’d probably be so tied to up to, “My body is really fucked up,” you know? So what happens with singers is that you start to get incredibly neurotic and worried about the physical damage you’re doing to your voice. Not because you care about when you’re 70, but you care about that night. You want to have the full force and resonance and accuracy of your voice. And it’s really, really rough. When you’re playing a show you’ve been looking forward to for months and you’re not physically capable of really being there and performing, it’ll really mess you up.
Paste: How is White Wilderness different from your previous records?
Vanderslice: I kind of entrusted the music and really most of the record in a sense to Magik Magik Orchestra and Minna Choi. I met [Choi] about two years ago. She had just moved to San Francisco, and she sent me an e-mail saying that she wanted to meet. We had mutual friends. I went to a couple shows that Magik put on, and it was like a real revelation to me. She did Jonny Greenwood’s Popcorn Superhet Receiver. They did a pretty eclectic, really well done classical show. And then I saw them with a couple, essentially bands, backing up bands… It seemed to be what I was looking for, in a sense… It was esoteric for me because when you collaborate with a drummer or a keyboardist, it’s in your universe; you completely understand it. You can look at the keyboard or fretboard and understand what’s happening harmonically there, and it’s inspiring, but you know what it is. But when you start to play with 20 orchestral players, it’s unknowable to you.
The first thing that we did…basically we had this idea that we would make Magik Magik Orchestra be the house orchestra of Tiny Telephone, and try to get bands to hire, you know, all the way from one player to a 25-person ensemble. And it actually worked.
It was hard at first because it was expensive. I mean these are skilled and talented people. I mean, they’re in a window where they’re affordable because in general they just got out of conservatory. But still, bands are still barely able to fund a record, you know? So the more I saw what they did, and the more I saw Minna work and arrange stuff, I basically gave everything over to Minna. I said, “Minna, I’m basically going to write 12 songs, and I’m going to keep them incredibly simple. I’m just going to write them on guitar or keyboard or piano,” and I really didn’t provide any melodic information. And on a lot of the songs, I would give her mixes that were just vocals. And she would write music, taking away just basic chords of the songs. So when we went into rehearsals, I hadn’t really heard any of the music. It was really one of the most exciting times of my life.
Paste: You say on your website, “Minna Choi is my hero.”
Vanderslice: She is my hero. Everything I do is with Minna now. The next record I’m gonna do is with Minna, and we’re planning like a big San Francisco show with the orchestra. So yeah, she’s definitely my hero.