The earliest
buzz surrounding Jerusalem took orbit around Earle's "John
Walker's Blues," a first-person narrative that attempted
to make some sense of the twentysomething "American Taliban."
With John Walker Lindh hastily ensconced through our criminal
justice system and into prison, the remainder of the album's resonance
might find sets of ears free from the buzzy din that emanated
from a media circus. For the album is greater than the sum of
its parts with a few of his loveliest songs ("The Kind,"
"I Remember You") carefully placed into the mix with
the more scathing likes of "Conspiracy Theory" and "Amerika
V. 2.0."
And if one thinks Earle
released the record just to stir up controversy, he's far to
busy to enjoy it. His play, Karla (based on the life of executed
Texas inmate Karla Faye Tucker) will debut in Nashville next
month. He also began work on a novel, and has a collection of
haiku he's planning to publish, accompanied by illustrations
by Tony Fitzpatrick, who created the covers for all of Earle's
albums since I Feel Alright.
From the office of his
label's New York City office, Earle talks about thosome of what
triggered Jerusalem, as well as, as he sings, the kind of things
he likes.
Amid the John Walker
hoopla, people seem to have missed the title track on "Jerusalem,"
which is pretty damn hopeful.
It's on purpose, because
that record was starting to bum me out. [Earle's label head]
Danny Goldberg suggested to me that I should make an overtly
political record before September 11th. I was really knocked
out that the guy that ran the label suggested that, because
that's never happened to me [laughs]. Then, September 11th did
happen. But there's a lot of political stuff on there that's
unrelated to that.
There are a couple
of tracks that aren't particularly political, "The Kind,"
for instance.
Yeah, but it's still about
stuff that I care about and my way of thinking. The two that
aren't political at all, that would have fit onto Transcendental
Blues, are "The Kind" and the Emmy duet ["I Remember
You"], which was the last song that I wrote before September
11th. It was the end of the tour, last August, and I came to
New York for eight days before I went home. I'm one of the few
people who decompresses in New York; it made sense to me after
being out on the road. But there's still a thing that connects
them to the rest of the record musically. I just made the record
that I had in me, and it turned out to be pretty political this
time, and that's the only difference.
Political songs/albums
are so frequently misinterpreted over the years. Do you worry
that parts of Jerusalem might suffer the same fate as "This
Land Is Your Land" and be misunderstood in twenty-five
years?
Nah, I'm gonna be dead
in twenty-five years [laughs]. I can't worry about that, I just
don't have time. I try to do a good enough job writing that
people don't misconstrue things. But you know what, I've been
writing a long time and I'm still not better than Bruce Springsteen
and it happened to him. Some people are going to hear what they
want to hear, no matter what you write.
"John Walker's
Blues" is a story song, a style you've said comes easy
to you. Was this the case?
Yeah, I wrote it pretty
quickly. It still required a lot of research. I was up late
at night writing it, for the first time in years, because I've
kinda gotten to be a morning writer. But I was just determined
to write a first-person song about John Walker Lindh. I had
some research to do. I needed a chorus. I wrote the first verse.
And I had the chord progression for the chorus and a vague melody,
but I was trying to figure out what the chorus was gonna say.
Then I remembered hearing that prayer, which is literally translated,
"there is no God, but God." It doesn't say, "Allah."
Allah just means "the God." So I got on islam.com,
I swear to fucking God, and I was shocked at how ignorant I
was about Islam.
Not a lot of Islamic
history taught in our schools.
No, there really isn't.
I think I believed at one point that Islam was this sort of
inherently violently evangelical belief system. And the truth
of the matter is, like every other major belief system in the
world - and I didn't know that until this year -- Muslims worship
exactly same god that Christians do. It's the God of Abraham.
And the God of Abraham is the God of Abraham. And I discovered
that every devout Muslim in the world, every time he says, "Jesus,"
which they say "Esau," says "peace be upon him,"
just like Muhammad's name, or any of their prophets. They recognize
all the whole laundry list of Old Testament prophets. And Muhammad
never said that he was the last prophet. But about 300 years
after he died, Islam started to say that he was the last prophet
and there would be no prophets between him and the end of the
world. And that's a parallel between Christianity and Judaism,
I mean, after Christ died, a lot of words were put in his mouth
and it's still happening.
Anyway, the first violence
against anyone in this country, after September 11th, was against
Sikhs. That's how ignorant we are about anything outside our
culture. They weren't even Muslims. But until that night I didn't
realize how ignorant I was. And how ignorant we are of Islam.
And I think our government is encouraging that right now. Simply
because they have an agenda of their own that they had before
September 11th and that's to go into Iraq.
One of the most striking
things about Lindh's persecution was his age. He's hardly the
first kid to do something brash or stupid.
That's my whole connection
to it. I have a twenty-year-old son. And yeah, the shit I did
when I was twenty . . . I believed a lot of stuff in my heart
when I was twenty-years-old that I don't believe now. Some of
which was right and some of which was wrong. But holding somebody
that accountable . . . If they had anything that they could
have charged him with, they would've. This particular case they
chose to bring him back and try him in our civil system, and
it happened way too behind closed doors and way too quickly
and way too quietly and I'm not comfortable with it. We talk
a lot about democracy and about unity and those two seem to
be at odds with each other right now, which is heartbreaking.
The initial knock was
that you "glorify" him.
I do not support John
Walker Lindh and what he did. But when you're writing in the
first person, you're writing in the first person. And you assume
that person's politics, that person's foibles, his mannerisms,
his speech, and the better you get at it, the more you're gonna
be put in the position of saying something that is a little
uncomfortable for you to say. I mean, I've written from the
point of view of much more despicable characters than John Walker
Lindh. "Billy Austin" is based on Gary Gilmore than
anyone else. The crime committed in the song is Gary Gilmore's
crime, leaving and going back in as an afterthought and putting
a bullet in the back of somebody's head.
And at the time he committed
the crime, John Nobles [a Death Row prisoner Earle befriended]
was every fucking one of our nightmares. He was an escalating,
sexually-driven serial killer that happened to get caught the
first time, or other people would have died. He would have done
it again. He believed that. He changed a lot during the time
he was locked up, but he didn't want to be loose, he didn't
trust himself in the world. He wanted to live, but he didn't
want to be out here with us.
Witnessing Nobles'
execution seems to have changed you fundamentally. Did his death
affect you spiritually? Do you have a working definition of
God?
Jonathan turned out to
be a real spiritual person the last few years of his life. It's
funny, the way he approached it was Catholicism. Now I'm not
a Christian and I'm not a Jew and I'm not a Muslim. But, yes,
I am a spiritual person. If I wasn't I wouldn't still be alive.
Twelve step programs depend on spirituality to function.
But I don't visit a lot
of guys on Death Row anymore. I try not to make any new friends.
I already lost one. Well, I lost seven. And Jonathan, I happened
to witness that execution. And most of my guys have been guilty
and most of 'em have been executed. With John, I watched him
die and I don't want to ever go through that again, so I protect
myself much more than I used to. But I shifted that energy to
working in another area that I think is more effective in the
long run and that's a political solution, actually changing
the law. So if that means I have to put on a suit and go up
to Capitol Hill, then I'll put on a suit and go up to Capitol
Hill. I even had to shake hands with Newt Gingrich once.
Legend has it, he was
a big [Texas songewriter] Blaze Foley supporter. Apparently
he called Blaze "my own personal Bob Dylan."
You're shitting me. You
are kidding me. That's really weird. The thing about Blaze,
I knew Blaze very well, and I tell you, I was never a member
of the Blaze Foley cult. I thought he was good, but I totally
didn't get that thing. Equating Blaze Foley with Townes Van
Zandt and Guy Clark and even Richard Thompson is really laughable.
When it gets down to just writing.
Speaking of writing,
have you heard any of the other September 11th-related music,
Alan Jackson or Toby Keith's songs?
I've heard 'em. And I
don't have a problem with Alan's tune. That Iraq/Iran line is
unfortunate. But he's honest and it's from the heart. I'll tell
you what Toby Keith's song is all about. In 1982, I had a three-piece
rockabilly band and I was opening for Hank Williams Jr. at Billy
Bobs. And I was fucking losing it and I was afraid I was gonna
get killed. So we played this really trendy place in Dallas
the night before and we were at Billy Bob's the next night in
Ft. Worth and I said, "Well we played Dallas last night
. . . it sure is good to be back in Texas." And they went,
YEAHHHHHH! And I played "Bad Moon Rising" and I had
'em for the rest of the set. And that's what Toby Keith is doing.
He has a right to say anything he wants to, but what's not OK
to me, is that it translated into a Number One record simply
because we're in a really, really ugly mood in this country.
That's a really ugly song. A big bunch of us went out and bought
it and identified with it and that's just sad.
Do you think you were
in a place, personally or creatively, where you could have made
this record fifteen years ago?
Fifteen years ago, no.
There was always a political component to my records. In fact,
it was "Good Ol' Boy (Getting Tough)," a guy at the
time with the Boston Phoenix, wrote the one bad review of Guitar
Town, 'cause the reviews were pretty glowing for that record.
I wasn't prepared for it, but he saw a problem with the "funny
talking man from Iran" line -- and I was assuming a character
back then. I was doing the exact same thing I was doing in "John
Walker's Blues," and because of the way he thought politically,
he took it to be xenophobic. It never occurred to him that the
person singing the song wasn't me. And I didn't do it particularly
gracefully. I kinda wince when I hear it now. But I know what
I was trying to do. But I wasn't near as good a writer as I
am now, and I think I could do it more skillfully now.
The last album seemed
to have a consistent pop focus, but lyrically it was a little
more abstract and not as pointed.
'Cause the last record
was mostly chick songs, which was totally relevant for that
time in my life, but a lot has happened since then. It was an
archaic pop record, and I'm really proud of that record. But
this record feels sort of immediate to me. I did have the benefit
of the band coming off a year and a half of touring and we were
away from each other enough to where we weren't sick of each
other anymore. And it's a great little four piece rock band
and that's what most of the record is. I think "Conspiracy
Theory" is about the only exception.
Your band has settled
into a nice, rumbling Crazy Horse-type sound.
That's the deal. We're
really loud. Two guitars and bass and drums. And I like that.
It's the only way I know how to make records. I've done stuff
through tracking and drum loops and stuff, and that's what "Conspiracy
Theory" was, that's a loop that I put together in my bedroom.
To me, it's cool to do that for one track, but I miss playing
with a band. And, we're kind of retarded, and what we know how
to do is get some guys that know how to play and stick some
microphones in front of them and turn the fucking tape recorder
on. It's right out there. That's what I know how to do [laughs].
You had talked about
wanting to take a break after "Transcendental," but
really you only got an extra six months more than your usual
pace. Did the writing come fast?
I didn't really want to
make another one anytime soon. I was perfectly comfortable with
not having another one, because this is like the seventh album
in seven and a half years. But I like spending time at home
now. But when I write a record, I wanna go out and perform it,
because I was taught that songs aren't finished until you've
played them for people. Guy Clark said that, and I still take
that pretty seriously.
Though neither Townes
nor Guy released an album as topical as "Jerusalem,"
you can still see the influence: Guy in the story song, Townes
in "The Truth" and even some Doug Sahm in "What's
a Simple Man to Do." Did you still feel the company of
the influences on this one?
They influence everything
I do. I learned "Dead Flowers" from Townes Van Zandt.
I had heard "Dead Flowers," but it never occurred
to me to go out and sing it until I'd heard Townes do it. When
I'm playing an acoustic guitar, it's real obvious how those
two guys influenced by playing and my approach to songwriting
and performing. When I put on an electric guitar, it's still
there, it's just not as obvious, because the instrument sounds
different. But those guys made a huge imprint there, and I'll
never escape it, and I don't really want to.
So, amid all the work,
do you have any hobbies?
You know, it's hard to
decompress when you have teenagers in the house. But there are
things I do for myself, and I don't do them enough. I fish.
I do bonzai. And I have a really entertaining little Australian
cattle dog named Bo that I hang out with.
Bonzai? Where'd that
come from?
Yeah, I guess it came
out of writing haiku. Being interested in Japanese poetry.
Do you take in any
sports? Tennessee and Texas are such football hotbeds.
I'll go to any kind of
baseball game. I'll go to minor league games. I'm going to see
the Yankees play this week. I get done [with interviews] just
in time to jump on a train. That's the best, man, getting on
the train and heading up to the Bronx for a game.