RIGHTEOUS MESSENGER Joe Pug
Mar 02, 2010
The singer-songwriter's been notching the Dylan comparisons (and some Steve Earle, too). But he's not ready to be pigeonholed.
BY JEDD FERRIS
In "Speak Plainly, Diana," the closing track of his brand new full-length debut album, Messenger, Joe Pug casually rolls off the chorus, "I don't mind riding around." That's a drastic understatement. For the past two years Pug has lived on the highways of America, playing an amount of shows he can only describe as "a fuck ton."
But for Pug, delivering his songs night after night in new towns is never a burden. It's certainly more fulfilling than the Ivory Tower, which he abandoned the day before his senior year at the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill, where he was studying playwriting.
"When it came to writing plays, it always felt like pulling teeth," says Pug, who chatted by phone from a truck stop on his way to a gig in Seattle. "Songwriting isn't necessarily easy, but it comes more naturally to me."
When he had enough of school, Pug packed his things and moved to Chicago where he became a carpenter by day. He picked up a guitar for the first time since his teenage years and began writing songs based on a play he was working on called Austin Fish. At night a friend would sneak him into a recording studio when other musicians had cancelled sessions, and he pieced together Nation of Heat. The popular underground EP spread virally, much in part due to Pug's guerilla marketing tactic of literally mailing a two-song sampler with his own postage to interested fans.
Without ever releasing a full-length album he started getting offers a young singer-songwriter could only dream of - tours supporting Steve Earle, Josh Ritter and M. Ward and a slot at last year's Newport Folk Festival. It's a testament to Pug's instant appeal.
His delivery is simple and honest-a live show that usually features just Pug plucking and pounding his acoustic guitar, while frequently blasting harmonica fills. His voice sounds hauntingly weathered well beyond his mid-20s baby face. His hypnotic wordplay lingers with the gut-punching imagery of self-realization. It's all amounted to an abundance of the dreaded overdone young-Dylan comparisons that just can't be overlooked.
In lines like, "I've come to meet the legendary takers; I've only come to ask them for a lot," from "Hymn #101," the stunning sparsely picked opening track on Nation of Heat, Pug shows his knack for delivering the vagabond wisdom that Dylan perfected on Blood on the Tracks.
But Pug is not ready to be pigeonholed, and Messenger - released in February on Lightning Rod Records - immediately proves he's much broader than a Bob reflection. "I think those comparisons will be dispelled with this new album," he says. "They've been accurate but not necessarily enlightening. Dylan definitely casts a big shadow. As Steve Earle says, he invented our jobs. But I think some more interesting comparisons can be made, when it comes to my work."
When asked about his influences Pug lists Beck, Warren Zevon, and John Hiatt. The latter is apparent on Messenger's title track, which starts the album as a bold statement of Pug's new studio approach - augmented by a full roots-rock band with driving pedal steel. "It's the direction I've been trying to go for a long time. I didn't want to sit around and write Nation of Heat Part 2. It's a bit of a departure. I think some fans will be surprised and not know how to take it, but I had to keep moving forward."
Through the rest of the new album Pug also keeps moving forward with his ongoing examination of self. The earnest ballads "Unsophisticated Heart" and "Disguised as Someone Else" reveal a man who faces his demons head on, despite some insecurity. It's another reason why songwriting is easier than playwriting. Playing make believe just isn't Pug's thing.
"I've always had a really hard time writing through the perspective of a character," he notes. "A lot of what I do is imagine myself in a situation. Maybe that's what a character is. Anyone who you could consider a character in one of my songs is pretty close to me. I'm not the kind of person who writes as a reaction to something that happens. If someone breaks up with me or calls me an asshole, I don't sit down and write a song about it. I try to write everyday. It's one long continuous thing about the way I look at the world."
The philosophy also extends to performance. Despite being a solo acoustic act, Pug has always tried to avoid playing in quiet coffeehouses or theatres. He says he prefers the challenge of noisy bars and rock clubs, explaining, "People are rowdier, and they might start talking through a song, but that's a very good threat to have on the table. It makes you work harder. Battling for their attention through an entire show makes you stay on your toes. If what you're doing on stage is not more interesting than their conversation, that's a fucking problem."
So far, Pug hasn't had that problem. His voice continues to command the attention of his listeners, peers and predecessors. He's booked solid through May, currently playing bigger rooms on a coast-to-coast tour with Justin Townes Earle. Then in April he's doing a run in Ireland with Josh Ritter. When the road gets tedious, he thinks back to something he learned from Earle's father Steve when he toured with him last year.
"I watched his show every night," Pug says of the elder Earle. "This is a guy who's been on the road for 30 or 40 years, and he's still tweaking the set list every night. It's amazing that he's been doing it for so long, and he still takes it so seriously. I only hope I have half as much conviction when I'm his age."
So is he in it for the long haul?
"That's what I'm coming to terms with - I think the answer is yes," he concludes. "I'm traveling around to places with crowds drinking beer singing along to songs that I wrote. That's as righteous as it gets."
[Photo Credit: Todd Roeth]
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