New Multitudes: Farrar, Yames, Johnson & Parker Revisit Woody Guthrie
Photo by Anna WebberMusic is the language of the mind that travels
Carries the key to the laws of time and space
Lonesome train whistling down the silent wail of wind
Life is the sound, creation has been a song
—“Hoping Machine” by Woody Guthrie
Like a cadre of musical brothers finally coalescing after years on the road apart, Jay Farrar, Yim Yames (Jim James), Will Johnson and Anders Parker gratefully deliver New Multitudes, their intimate interpretation of American icon and musical legend Woody Guthrie’s previously unrecorded lyrics.
Under the invitation of Guthrie’s daughter, Nora, to tour the Guthrie archives, each of the four songwriters were offered the chance to plumb and mine the plethora of notebooks, scratch pads, napkins, etc. for anything that might inspire them to lend their voices and give the words new life.
Initially starting off in pairs, these Americana torchbearers tried to capture the true sing-along Guthrie spirit over the course of the project. Simmering on the side burner for years after Farrar and Parker first visited the archives during a 2005 press trip to New York City for Gob Iron, their traditional folk-themed project, they decided to continue the collaboration via Guthrie’s lyrics.
“Even though it all truly began a decade earlier,” says Farrar, “the idea stuck because Woody was the one guy both my folks held in the highest regard. He was sacrosanct. I heard Woody way before I ever knew who Bob Dylan was, and if you are going to go back and retrace the roots of your musical inspiration what better way then to try and finish some of his songs. So I heard from Nora that Jim had come by the archives and Nora had played him some of the stuff Anders and I had recorded when he was passing through. And then I heard from Jim saying he had liked what he heard, and from there it really started to snowball. And then Will came on board, which was easy because he knew both Jim and I really well. Basically, it’s just one small degree of separation between all of us.”
“It was an easy recording session,” Johnson adds. “When we were all in the studio, there was definitely a constant in our chemistry and group dynamic. Sharing a common inspiration for Woody’s music gave us a true sense of purpose. It was a tremendously positive and encouraging experience, which is really a testament to the lyrics.”
The spirit of Guthrie may have been involved in more ways than one, as all four songwriters mentioned the immediate connection to the songs they chose, or as they would suggest, “chose them.” The writing came together with intense celerity, as if the mischief muse who originally penned them latched himself to each writer’s grey matter upon first contact.
“I remember I was at my apartment in Queens at the time and had a couple of the lyrics laid out on my bed,” says Parker, “and it was astonishing how rapid the songs just came, they were so ripe and leapt out at me.”
“When I got into writing the music for these songs,” adds James, who records all his non-My Morning Jacket material under the Yim Yames moniker, “it did literally just pour out of my soul and into my recorder; it was emotional. It all happened very quickly. It was a strange time in my life. I was right in the middle of being reborn.”
“Absolutely,” Farrar concurs, after hearing James’ sentiments. “That happened with me when I came across the words ‘Hoping Machine,’ there was just such a strong element of familiarity that I just hit ‘Record.’ But it’s important to note that it helped tremendously to bring in Jim and Will to revive that same energy Anders and I initially felt when we first built the songs. This was especially the case for me on ‘Hoping Machine’ when Jim mentioned repeating the chorus one more time at the end of the song. I had been conscious about it but never did it until Jim helped make it happen.”
Musically, it’s this sense of collaboration, that makes New Multitudes not just another trite and traditional acoustic regurgitation of back porch blues. On the ragged jangle of opener “Hoping Machine,” the loping lilt of “Fly High,” the floorboard stomp of “No Fear” and the lush warmth and sudden sonic gut-punch of “My Revolutionary Mind,” the cohorts deliver a lesson in discovering a song’s sweet spot. It’s the function and preparedness of each artist’s dogged work ethic gleaned the old-fashioned way, veracious songs, road weary odometers and sweat-stained live shows—all attributes of the man they are honoring. Yet it takes more than just stamina and gumption to make something sound authentic and profound; it’s the quartet’s ability to imbue the sepia-toned essence of the past with risks needed to forge a future.