THE BLURT BULLY PULPIT: Jen Olive
Mar 31, 2010
From Los Angeles to Albuquerque to Swindon, England: one songwriter's travels, with XTC's Andy Partridge as her virtual guide.
BY JEN OLIVE
I've spent most of my life moving from one state to another, one town to another, one apartment to another. By the time I was 15, I'd lived in 34 different places in four different states. I developed an odd habit of using different names and different accents for each new place...at least to start out. My favorite by far was "Rebecca." She was English. I spoke in a Mary Poppins accent for two solid weeks once. I realize now that I wasn't fooling anyone, but it amused me anyway. As an adult, I seem to have carried on the tradition of resisting permanence and getting on to the next adventure. So, three years ago when I was invited to come and stay in New Mexico, I thought, "Why not?" I'd had enough of Los Angeles and the legions of "beautiful people" and fake boobs and traffic and smog...I was fed up with just about everything, and the desert seemed like the perfect remedy. So I packed up all the essentials and headed for New Mexico.
Now then, it was only a couple of months before my escape to New Mexico that I'd sent some demos to one Mr. Andy Partridge, and I heard back from him rather quickly. He said he was interested in hearing more if I was interested in sending more. I felt an immediate connection with him. Of course, I said yes, that I would send more as soon as I was settled into my new digs in the desert. Needless to say, I was a little concerned at this point that maybe I was biting off more than I could chew, what with an impending divorce, two kids, a move to a new state, no job and now the possibility of recording an album...all at once. But apparently I like a challenge, so I just went with it. All of it.
Anyway, Andy was curious when and if I was planning to record. I had been looking at some local studios, and even recorded in one, but it wasn't quite working out as I'd hoped. Andy suggested I might have a go on my own. It had only ever vaguely occurred to me that I could make a complete album on my own with all the instrumentation, etc., but the idea was quite appealing, and I did have some idea of what to do - I'd self-recorded many times over the years, though nothing to this extent. For this, I'd need proper supplies. My zip-drive digital 8-track was probably not going to cut it. I'd need a computer and a proper microphone. I'd also need some drums and maybe a couple bass guitars as well. (I had to try fretless!) I sold everything that didn't matter and then rallied all of my long-time supporters and friends, explaining the situation. Everyone was eager to donate to the cause. (Yes, I have amazing friends.) Even my ex-husband was willing to pitch in to see this get done. In the back of my house there was a cabin-style Jacuzzi room that had only been used for storage in the last few years. It was empty. It was private (sort of). It would do. I loaded it up with all my new gear and got started.
When I had a few songs done, I sent them to Andy. He liked what I was up to but could tell I needed a little help. So he offered to mix them and gave me little recording tips as I went along. Pretty soon we were on a roll but don't be mistaken - it wasn't quite that easy.
I was in New Mexico, and New Mexico is a strange place. It's basically rural with two major cities, and neither of them is really all that major. Santa Fe is the capitol. It's the smaller, lovelier of the two cities, aesthetically beautiful, gorgeous actually. It's culturally "correct," quintessentially Southwest. It's progressive politically, environmentally friendly. There are lots of sculptors and painters and little shops and galleries. There is The Opera and The Plaza. There are also lots of all-grown-up trust-fund babies who don't have a clue what it means to hold a job - but hey, they can sit in a cafe and expound on their own brilliance, their technique, their method...their aaaaaart...all damn day. Pretentious and annoying at best. It's why people to the south call it "Santa Fake." By south I mean the other city, Albuquerque.
Albuquerque is thought of as Santa Fe's fat, ugly sister. Albuquerque is known for its stratospheric teen pregnancy rates. It's number one for drunk driving. There's a tattoo parlor on practically every corner, and let's not forget the property crime. They say you should prepare to get robbed if you live in Albuquerque. Now, I personally haven't been robbed here (not yet, anyway), but I have had a legless man in a wheelchair roll up on my front lawn and demand lunch and iced tea. I've met lots of people fresh out of jail and asking for money so they could get liquor. I've had a drug addict bang on my door at 1 a.m. wanting to "use the phone." And let's see - there was the Vietnam veteran working on my roof who'd show up at any time of the day or night and just start hammering. That one was especially annoying because I'd be in the middle of a perfect take and suddenly he'd be walking through the yard with some kind of power tool buzzing, and no matter how many times I asked him to pleeeease come up with a schedule so we could work around each other - I was trying to make a record for chrissakes - he never did. "Only a couple more days there Joan and uhhh...I'll be outta your way" (yeah, well, a couple more days in New Mexico means "whenever I feel like finishing"...they call it the Mañana State for a reason). And then there was his crazy, screaming wife eating a Snickers bar in one bite and chewing with her mouth open. I mean reeeeally open. But that's a whole other story.
In spite of all that, Albuquerque is a really beautiful and soulful place. It's deep. It forces you in and out of yourself. It destroys a lot of preconceptions you might have about yourself and others. On the surface, it sounds like any other ghetto, but it isn't. The context is completely singular. It's hard, yeah. Mean sometimes. But it's also warm. It's friendly. It's tolerant in a completely authentic way. It isn't judgmental. It's real. And I don't care what Jessica Alba says, the food here is GOOD...I have developed a serious addiction to green chile and sopapillas! So yeah, it's a dive, but I live in Albuquerque, my record was written and recorded in Albuquerque, and it's informed as much by this city as it is by my life.
I started in mid-March of 2008. Slowly but surely I'd gotten the hang of things and my creativity was always boiling. I'd gone into it with the same feeling I go into everything, which is, "How hard can it really be?" and "Rules? What rules?" So, I was trying any and everything. I was playing whatever I could get my hands on, from rocks and bottles to the chairs and the walls. I love puzzles and I love mathy guitar riffs, so working out bass parts and percussion parts to fill in the holes was a thrill. Funny story: I‘d done quite a few tracks of percussion for the song "So Funny," which has some odd time signatures in it. I had to actually count the beats in it to play it. I got an email from Andy later on saying, "Jen, try not to count out loud when you're recording the percussion." Buried in there somewhere there's a whisper of me counting, "1,2,3,4-1,2,3,4,5,6,7"...I was rather mortified, but thinking back, I guess it's pretty hilarious.
By July, I was about halfway done. I was struggling a lot less with the recording process and was on a real writing streak. Things were going well but it was easily over 100 degrees in the daytime, and in my "shack," as I called it, it was even hotter. I'd run the air conditioner to cool it down and then I'd turn it off quickly to record, trying my best to get it in the first two takes before the shack started to heat up again. But my computer was shutting down from the heat and I was feeling like I'd pass out every five minutes, so I finally opted to record after dark instead. Around 9 p.m. every night I'd down a pot of coffee and head out. I'd sit back there in the shack, perched on a stool, the world's biggest cockroaches running around below me, and I'd write. Then I'd record, and - like I'd been doing for months - I'd send what I recorded, track by track, across the pond to the UK and into the hands of my co-conspirator, Andy Partridge.
Back in Swindon, which I'm told is the English equivalent of Albuquerque (although when I visited Swindon, I gotta say I didn't see it), Andy would be mixing and fixing the things I'd sent, adding a touch here and a sparkle there. As we got to know each other through the work, the songs started to reflect that. For instance, Andy didn't add much to the first song I sent, "Franscrams!". The bass drum was replaced by a better sounding one and there was a percussion thing at the top...a little edit at the end. In contrast, the song "Pieces" has quite a few additions, including a great mellotron squeezebox (among other things). The thing was that without telling Andy - but very much on purpose - I had begun leaving open spaces in the songs in the hopes that he would fill them with something. And he wouId. And it was always spot-on.
I started to really live for the thrill of Andy's "NEW MIX" email. Things continued to get better and better all the way around. My recordings were sounding cleaner, and Andy was reading me easily now. We went on like that for quite some time with few troubles, if any. For months we just kept at it, emailing back and forth, rarely even speaking on the phone. It was very bizarre. Very focused. Almost cosmic, if you go for that kinda thing. Andy was absolutely brilliant to work with. He was very respectful and attentive, and just smart as hell. He nudged me down the road, kicking things out of the way so I could get by. You know...the coat over the mud puddle? It was like that. I learned a lot through that. I would listen to the mixes and the next time I sent something I would try to copy what he'd done, as far as the panning and the arranging. If he put the bass at 10 o'clock then I'd put the bass at 10 o‘clock...that sort of thing.
By November of 2008, the recording started to wrap up. I had to move...again. So, the final two songs were recorded in new shack in a new house, and by the new year, I was done with my part. We made it all official in February of 2009, after which time I took a long breather to process it all. In December, with the release getting closer, I decided to fly out to England and meet the mysterious Mr. Partridge face-to-face.
It wasn't nearly as weird or as mysterious as I thought it'd be. It was, in fact, very normal-feeling. It was lovely.
Today is the day my record, Warm Robot will be officially released. I'll be in England again in less than a week to play some shows and promote it. From Los Angeles to Albuquerque to Swindon, it's been quite a trip and I'm only now just taking off.
Round and round she goes, where she stops nobody knows....
Jen Olive's Warm Robot is out this week on Andy Partridge's Ape House label. Songs, news, tour dates (a UK tour starts next week) and more are at her official website.
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