Courtesy of Jarboe / photo by Chris White for The Sweet Meat Love And Holy Cult
I wasn’t expecting Jarboe to laugh so much. The label “gothic” may do little justice to the sonic diversity of her music, but it goes some way to capturing the often grave seriousness of her work and the weighty subjects it addresses. Her performances tend to be reviewed with epithets such as “fierce”, “tortured” and “beautiful”, but rarely “jolly”. So when listening to her over the phone, it’s delightful to find her answers, already adorned by an amiably long-vowelled Southern accent, regularly self-interrupted by hearty chuckling. Since Swans’ original dissolution in the late 90s, Jarboe has forged her own defiantly idiosyncratic path with a host of solo records and collaborations ranging from minimalist piano works to apocalyptic metal. Her latest album is another joint effort, this time with experimental cellist Alison Chesley, a.k.a. Helen Money. The cello resonates in the same way that a singing voice can, which is why, explains Chesley, the instrument “hits you right in the heart.” The album’s six powerful tracks certainly do that.
Videos by VICE
Jarboe spoke to me shortly after the duo’s European tour dates. Spoke, at least, when she wasn’t laughing.
What’s your favorite track on the album?
“For My Father.” ‘Father’ is a metaphor for standing up against oppression and for human rights. All this stuff was circulating in my mind, particularly last fall with all the graphic content and news I was watching about everything that was happening globally, and specifically with the Islamic State and all that stuff. … It was important to perform that song live and it got a great reception. I think people understood the psychology of it. It’s not a call to arms, just to take responsibility; to write letters, join Amnesty International, do what you can yourself and the world has to join together and not lay down to terrorists or human rights violations. It’s just reminding people that they do have power to do something about what they see around them. You don’t just have to read the news and put down the paper and walk away. I combine that with “Cries,” which was a song I released first and was then re-done for Swans’ Love of Life album. “Cries” is a similar kind of song about fear, disillusionment and the idea that you go through your life and you do something about it or you’re just a dead-eyed soul. Your life has come and gone and all you did was grow old. So the whole set seemed to kind of echo this idea of freedom and personal responsibility.
Were they fans of Swans?
Well, my father passed away before I joined Swans. He became ill so he never saw that happen. My mother met Michael Gira, and knew him pretty well. They were really good friends. She was very interested in what I was doing. She wasn’t musical herself, my father was the musician in the family. My mother never really understood music, I don’t think. She understood a snappy tune. But she didn’t understand what we were doing. I remember playing Swans’ “A Long Slow Screw” video in her house one day and she came into the room and said to me, “what do you call that?! What’s he doing? What is that?” I said, “you mean Michael? You mean what is he doing with his voice?” And she goes, “yes, what is that? That’s not singing!” [laughs] I didn’t know what to say. Her favorite song was Mr. Bojangles.
Swans had a reputation for being the loudest band ever. How’s your hearing now?
My hearing is actually rather shockingly good. I hear things your average person doesn’t. Very early on I started wearing ear-plugs. I was so worried about the young people in Swans’ audiences that I would make a show of going onstage, standing behind my keyboard and then, very dramatically, reaching for my ear-plugs and putting them in. I did this specifically to send a message to the audience that I was hoping they were gonna put them in too. I was trying to make it cool.
The last time I saw the current incarnation, or whatever you wanna call it, of Swans in 2011, I talked to them after and every single member of the line-up wears ear-plugs… except Michael! I confronted him about this because I felt at that point I could give him help on a number of things, because I know him so well, or knew him so well. I came right out and said, “what the hell’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you wearing anything? You’re gonna go deaf. This is your livelihood.” He said something like, “it’s only when I drop down in front of the amp that I’ll feel the pain. I’m either above or below that threshold.” Well, okay! No comment! Stage volume is brutally loud, I know this for a fact, and I hope that everyone who goes to loud shows or plays loud music wears earplugs. I care about my hearing tremendously and would never jeopardize it.
More
From VICE
-

Screenshot: Nintendo -

WWE -

Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 – Metaphor: ReFantazio -

Screenshot: Steam
