Sharon Van Etten: Epic (Ba Da Bing, 9/21/10)
Sharon Van Etten: “Don’t Do It”
[audio:https://alarm-magazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/Sharon_Van_Etten_Dont_Do_It.mp3|titles=Sharon Van Etten: “Don’t Do It”]Singer/songwriter Sharon Van Etten was raised in a cozy New Jersey burg named Nutley. She grew up, ventured out on her own, moved to Tennessee — and had her heart broken by a man who made her doubt her own talent. As a result, she came crawling back to her parents’ basement to piece together what went wrong, and there Van Etten found solace in songwriting. Her two major releases — Because I Was In Love (Language of Stone, 2009) and Epic (Ba Da Bing, 2010) — are the byproducts of a person aiming to find a foothold sturdy enough to climb back into the world.
Van Etten’s songs are un-flashy yet sincere, allowing her to build a loyal following in the slow, old-fashioned manner of connecting with people in that place where our emotions overlap. After months of touring, she is planning to disappear into a studio this summer to finally finish her third album with producer Aaron Dessner of The National. From her home in Brooklyn, Van Etten spoke with ALARM about songs, tattoos, wine, faeries, and Fleetwood Mac.
The openness of your songwriting seems to give your fans the impression that they’re allowed to open up to you. Do you feel an obligation to these strangers who tell you that you’ve “helped” them with your music?
It means a lot to me to know that my music connects with other people. That’s why I do it. I do it for me, but I would be completely selfish if I didn’t do it for other people as well. It’s encouraging to hear it. I do feel a certain sense of responsibility to be a positive influence on people, especially since I’m realizing that a lot of people that I’ve met who can relate to my music are younger women seeking advice after getting their heart broken for the first time. I feel pressure because they’re seeking my advice, and sometimes I feel like a fraud. I’m just like, “I don’t really know.” I’m still figuring these things out.
Have you ever felt that need to impose yourself on an artist you admire?
There are times when I’ve gotten myself through very hard times with the music of other artists. But my personality is too shy to say anything. Half of the bands I feel like have changed my life when I really needed it — they’re not alive anymore. [Laughs] I have the safety of time between me and my big mouth. There’s definitely breakup records that I listen to all the time, like that Fleetwood Mac song, “What Makes You Think You’re the One?” That’s a bad-ass song.
A lot has been written about this one breakup with this one guy who told you that your music was bad and that you had no talent and how it drove you to make music. Do you sometimes feel like you’ve almost given him credit for your success?
I haven’t talked to him in years. He’s probably the only ex I’ll never speak to again. I try to be positive about things, because that was a really bad time in my life. I don’t know. You have to create something positive from bad experiences or else you’re not going to learn from it, or grow from it. I don’t want to be bitter about anything. But I know — I feel like a lot of those songs came from that. So he doesn’t deserve credit, but if that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have had those songs.
Do you feel like there is a double standard in the way female songwriters are described as opposed to male songwriters who work in a similar kind of confessional mode?
I’m trying to figure that out myself, because part of me is like, “Maybe they’re trying to find more feminine words to describe a woman and more masculine words to describe a man.” It’s not necessarily sexist. It’s a form of writing, trying to make each description unique. My music is “confessional,” but guys got pegged with “emo” for a while, and I haven’t been pegged as emo, so I’m glad about that. [Laughs] Being emotional is often looked upon as being weak or feminine. I’ve been called feminine as well as weak. [Laughs] I don’t think of it as a double standard; I think that there’s just different ways to describe things that are the same thing.
You recently released a free single through Other Music, a collaboration with Glass Ghost called “Like A Diamond.” You’ve mentioned that your next album will not be as guitar-centric, and this new song has very little guitar. How did the collaboration transpire, and is this recording at all indicative of the direction of your next album?
Glass Ghost is a really good band here in Brooklyn. It’s a guy named Eliot Krimsky who does this very strange hip-hop-slash-jazz-slash-spoken-world style of writing and performing that’s really engaging and new and offbeat. It really drew me in when I first saw him play. It’s the only kind of collaboration we’ve ever done, but it’s his song and his lyrics. So, in that way, no. It’s not indicative of what my new direction is, but I am thinking of using less guitar and pulling all of the predictable things out of it and having less intuitive beats and instruments around the vocals. Everything I do is really strummy. It’s all been centered on me writing songs, and I just play guitar and sing. I didn’t have a band. I fear that it will get old really fast. Although I’m proud of my songs.
You’ve mentioned before that you’re not a natural band leader. Working with Aaron Dessner in the studio, have you been able to assert yourself, to say you don’t like something even if he’s pushing you in a certain direction?
It’s very new to me. If I don’t like something, I’m learning how to say something even though it might upset somebody. It’s for the benefit of everyone involved to do it properly, in my mind. I know that everyone I’m working with just wants the best thing for me because they like what I do and that’s why they’re working with me. So I’m less afraid to say what I want and hurt somebody’s feelings because I know they have my best interests at heart. The bottom line is that they want me to like the record. Aaron’s really great like that, where if I don’t like something, it’s not going to be on there. If he questions something that I want, I like to be pushed as well. I’m learning how to be leader, but I’m not one naturally, that’s for sure. [Laughs]
Along with The National, you’ve also struck up collaborative friendships with The Antlers, and as you mentioned, Glass Ghost. Brooklyn can be easy to laugh at from a distance as a place where people go to grow beards and start bands. But it seems like you’ve found it to be a truly beneficial place to be artistically.
Yes, totally. I think that Williamsburg might be becoming a caricature of itself, but I lucked out by coming here. Any city is what you make of it. You have to be really proactive and productive and want to meet people and go out and work hard. And you can’t not work hard in this city and stay here. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt any sense of neighborhood or community. It took me a few years to find solid ground, or something like normal and constant, or a consistent group of friends. But it happened over the course of a few years where I finally felt comfortable living here. It’s a really hard place to live. It’s aggressive at first, and it’s inviting at first.
According to some of your friends, you’re practically a sommelier. How exactly did your expertise in wine come about?
I was an exchange student in high school. I went to Spain and stayed in La Rioja with this really, really beautiful family who took me to their family’s vineyard and brought a bottle of wine back home. Over dinner, I had my first real bottle of wine. I didn’t even know that I liked wine at that point. I was like 16 or 17. We just had it socially. I liked the idea that it was social. It wasn’t to get wasted; it was just celebratory and it had a lot of history. I came back home to my parents with a bottle of wine from that region and said, “When I turn 21, we’re going to drink this wine together.” One day, my dad accidentally drank it. [Laughs] He didn’t know the difference. It was really funny, actually.
Years later, I got a job at this wine store. I just liked wine — as a beverage, as a dinner pairing, I liked it much more than any kind of soda, milk, or water. I thought it was more interesting; it brought out more flavors. I realized that I was becoming such a snob. I was taking all of these classes and thinking that this was a good direction I could take. I could do it on the side and still pursue music if I wanted to. But I started becoming a snob, and that’s why I quit. [Laughs] I had to stop. I could only take it so far.
You were signed to Ba Da Bing after working there. You took classes to work at a wine shop. Unlike most musicians, you seem like a good employee.
[Laughs] I went on so many job interviews when I moved to New York. I guess that I’m too honest. I don’t like lying about stuff, especially with a job. You want to put everything on the line at the beginning so you know what you’re getting into. Otherwise, you’re going be upset, they’re going to fire you — that’s no way to live. So when I first started working at the wine store, they were like, “So tell me about yourself.” And I said, “I live with my parents. I go to therapy. I just moved back from Tennessee. I have no idea what I’m doing. I want to go back to school, but I don’t really know. But I really like wine. Can you help me?” They were really amazing about it. I feel like the more honest you are with people, it’s kind of shocking. It’s like, “Wow. You’re honest. I can trust you. You’re not going to screw me over. You’re putting it all out there.” I think that people respect that.