Interview: Sebadoh’s Lou Barlow on ‘Defend Yourself,’ Rush, and being the hipsters of their time

Lou Barlow has always worn his heart on his sleeve. Since Sebadoh’s debut in the mid-80’s, Barlow has crafted hundreds of heartbroken lo-fi songs about ex-girlfriends and ex-bandmates, usually assuming the role of the victim. However, with Defend Yourself, Sebadoh’s first full-length LP in 14 years, Barlow is no longer writing from the point-of-view of a love-spurned victim, but as the driving force behind his recent divorce.

“Someone else has found her way into my soul / Things have changed / No longer need to be with you,” Barlow sings on album opener “I Will,” as blunt of declaration of new-found love as the band has ever put to tape.

While Defend Yourself may deal with with the very personal pains of divorce, Barlow and Sebadoh haven’t entirely lost their sense of humour. Their latest release is a ridiculous Canada-themed picture disc 7″ featuring a bastardized cover of Rush’s “Limelight,” complete with a drawing of Canada’s flag merged with a pot leaf, and a photo of Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys proudly displayed on the flip side.

We caught up with Lou Barlow by phone from his home in Massachusetts to discuss the painful process behind Defend Yourself, why he owes Sub Pop so much money, his return to Dinosaur Jr., and a lot more.

Sebadoh are currently on tour across North America. For all tour dates, visit sebadoh.com.

How did this “Limelight” ode to Canada 7” come out?

Well, The Onion brings bands into the studio in their home office in Chicago and they make you do covers. They videotape it and record it, and they make you choose from a list of songs to do, and we were one of the last bands to do it, in the cycle of this particular thing, and “Limelight” was on the list. Jason [Loewenstein] and Bob [Fay] were really excited because they love Rush. And so we did “Limelight,” even though I couldn’t possibly play it [laughs]. They played it pretty much from memory, because they listened to Rush incessantly when they were kids—I didn’t, so I just sang it. We did it for the Onion and it was then posted on their web site and received some of the most brutal—just a steady stream of brutally negative reviews from music fans and Rush fans alike. And then somehow the idea came up that we would turn the song into a single, and then in the process of doing that—I think as a band we do really enjoy coming to Canada, and we’ve been longtime fans of Canada I guess, if you can be fans of a country. So then it kind of just mutated into this tribute to Canada, then the Trailer Park Boys were involved a little bit too.

How did the relationship with Joyful Noise come about?

Well, the first contact I had with Karl Hofstetter, he kind of runs the label, or at least he’s kind of the curator of the label, he contacted me because Joyful Noise did a cassette box set of the first three Dinosaur Jr. records. And he contacted me that way, and kind of made himself known as a Sebadoh fan. He’s young and enthusiastic, so pretty much just kept e-mailing me regularly, and asking if we were doing new material, and then we did start to do new material and he said he was interested—it just seemed logical.

Was there ever a thought of putting it out yourselves?

Well, we did think about it. We’d actually done an EP from the album sessions, and we did have some CD’s made up for tour, and we put it up on Bandcamp. You just realize that putting out your own record is a pain in the ass, I guess. Like, big news—I’ve always known that. So it’s like, “It’s modern age! We can put it up online!” Then it’s like, “Well, who the hell’s going to send it out? [Laughs] Like, not me! I’ve got kids, I’ve got things to do.” God, we didn’t want to do that. And we certainly weren’t going to hire somebody to do that. But we did flirt with the idea of a self-release. But making it readily available and distributing it—that’s best left for people who want to do that.

Has technology made the kind of recordings you like to make easier? Or is it still the same process it was when you were staring out?

Well, the last time we make a record—I can’t remember how many years ago it was—the last four records we made, we recorded in a studio, and we released them on Sub Pop Records, and we did press tours [laughs] and things like that, and there was considerably more pressure on the band I’d say. Just being a young, new band. You know, being the hipsters of our time back then. We were like any hipster band—people were writing articles about us, and wondering if we were actually going to be any good, and all this other stuff [laughs]. People were interested. Those days are kind of gone, you know? I guess it really takes the pressure off considerably. Making the new record was pretty pressure-free. In the end, we didn’t answer to anybody. There wasn’t any talk of what “the single” was going to be. Just no bullshit I guess [laughs]. Sebadoh functions better when we don’t have a lot of that stuff around us. We function better as just a collection of three guys who make some music together and go on tour.

Lyrically, the album is a really direct break-up record—what did it feel like to get these songs out there?

Um, well, I guess it was a little … tough, this time around. Because, I think it kind of opened us up to a lot of criticism in a way. Like, back in the day, they were like these break-up songs that were heartbreak songs. I had more of a victim thing going on I guess. So people were like, “Oh, poor heartbroken…” And this time around, we’re writing about really ugly adult shit, so it’s not as charming. And we made the record in the midst of a lot of changes, so the record is pretty dark, I guess. And a lot of the reviews and things were pretty harsh because of that. And also, I was kind of going through it, so I was doing interviews basically just on the cusp of this enormous change in my life, with a lot of people involved. You know, children and spurned exes, it was kind of a mess. So I couldn’t really talk… You know, back in the day, when I would just be like, “Oh, you know, my girlfriend broke up with me and went to another guy, but I wrote a bunch of songs about it and she came back to me.” [Laughs] And this one was just like, “No, this is a bloody mess and that’s it.” And people were far less… enchanted by that, let’s say. And doing interviews and things in the midst of that would suck too, because I couldn’t really speak frankly, and at the same time I was still talking, probably when I should have been keeping my mouth shut. So it was hard.

It’s a very private thing to go through, I can’t imagine having to talk to strangers about it all day.

Well, it was weird. But I did it because that’s what I’d always done; I’ve always worn everything on my sleeve. But in this instance, I think the songs were hard enough. I write them obviously to express something that’s going on in my life, but I do that because that’s what I think songs are, you know? I think songs in general should be expressions of what people have gone through. Also, as a songwriter, I almost feel like that’s my responsibility to do that. To put myself out there a little bit, and to put difficult situations into songs, because that’s what I like about music. I know a lot of other people who feel the same way. But not everybody really cares about that stuff. A lot of people don’t care what the words are to songs [laughs]. They don’t care whether the songwriter went through it or not, there’s a lot of that. So I’ve always been kind of up against that.

What was the initial reaction when Sebadoh started? Were people expecting a heavier sound from you at that time?

When we made out first recordings, I felt like in a lot of ways music was really masculine. Like it was just really masculine and aggressive. And I’m not just talking about hardcore, but there was the beginnings of grunge, the beginning of Mudhoney … even bands like Superchunk—there was just a lot of male bluster, I thought. So when we made our first records, I did kind of consciously want to make stuff that was really close to the bone, and quiet. But also, at the same time, not typically folk, and not typical song structures. Like, actually borrow a lot from something like hardcore, which is a really stripped-down version of punk rock. Very stripped-down and accelerated. I wanted to do kind of a similar thing for folk music—strip it right down to the bone, make the songs really short, and say things in the songs that maybe made people uncomfortable. With almost that same attitude that hardcore and punk have, where you just want to needle people. It seems foolish to me now and kind of pretentious, but at the time, you actually have this idea that “I’m going to change the way people think about things, and I’m gonna challenge people.” And Sebadoh had that idea, that we were challenging people. We were going to start by stripping everything down, and making it quiet first. And of course, we became more of a normal band as things went on, just because it was more practical to play shows that way.

Initially, people were like, “What is this shit? How dare you release your demos?” It was kind of controversial, but we were young guys, and there were other young girls and guys our age who had similar sensibilities, so it made sense then.

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Last year you celebrated the 20^th anniversary of Bakesale, what do you think it is about that record that still resonates with people?

Well, I guess it’s pretty good [laughs]. I guess listening to it myself—I’ve never thought too much about it, but when we re-issued it, I kind of had to listen to it again, and it has a nice feel to it; it’s kind of an approachable record, for Sebadoh especially. It’s not too dark; it’s not too light, it’s just right. It’s like the Goldilocks record; not too hard, not too soft. Not too heart-broken, not too angry. It’s a nice mix of the Sebadoh sensibilities in one record. Our records generally swing from extremes, and don’t make for really consistent listening for a lot of people. They do for us, but not for most people.

What was the mood in the band like coming into that record after [Sebadoh co-founder] Eric Gaffeny quit? Was it a turbulent time for the band?

No, it was euphoric to be honest [laughs]. Eric was a difficult guy. He was really struggling with the band becoming more popular; he was really struggling with sharing the spotlight with me. He’s an absolute leader, and deserves a spotlight of his own, but I had kind of forced him into this band where he and I were going to be trading off, thinking that was a really great idea. Eric Gaffney did not want to be doing that. Eric Gaffney wanted to be front and center—which is great, I mean, I believed in him. I’m an Eric Gaffney fan, that’s why I was playing in a band with him, but Eric Gaffney was not a Lou Barlow fan. So him leaving the band was awesome. All of this resistance just disappeared for a while, and it was really nice.

The last time I saw Sebadoh you were doing a Harmacy-themed tour—what was that experience like? You’ve said many times that you’re not really a huge fan of that album.

Well, that’s when all the pressure really started coming down. That’s the record where the clichés started to happen. Like, we got into the studio, and our engineer / producer—if you can call anybody who’s ever worked for Sebadoh a producer—he just basically sat me down and said, “You’ve got to fire the drummer, and you’ve got to do it now! You tell me right now that he’s fired, and Ill fly in Joey Waronker,” who was a big studio musician at the time—probably still is. “We’ll fly him out to Boston, and he’ll come in here and destroy, kill these songs, and you guys will be awesome. These songs will leap off the fucking vinyl. They’ll play your video on MTV.” The guy basically gave me that whole line. And I was like, “Ah, fuck off.” I mean, he reduced me to tears. I’m in the studio, he’s telling me all this shit, and I’m drinking beer. And finally, I’m on my tenth beer, and this guy is just wearing me down, and I just burst out crying like, “Oh my god, we’ve got to fire Bob!”

But then the next day, the hangover comes, and we’re like, “We’re not going to fire Bob—Bob’s our friend, which is more important than becoming like, the flavor of the month. We’re not going to be the next Nirvana, fuck it [laughs]. It’s not going to happen. We’re not even going to be the next Sloan. We’re going to make the record we were destined to make, which will not be great.” And that was what the whole vibe became for that record. Although I love the songs, the experience of recording that record was just a bummer.

Is it weird for you when people tell you that’s their favourite Sebadoh album?

Well, no I understand—the songs are good, I’m not going to lie. I mean, I’m saying the songs are good; I’m not saying like, “It’s great!” Those people don’t know that that record lost hundreds of thousands of dollars that I still owe Sub Pop Records [laughs]. It only sold 90,000 copies, which was a huge disappointment for Sub Pop Records, and I never heard the end of that. I’m still not hearing the end of it. We put out re-issues with them, and we’re like, “Can we get some money for that?” And they’re like, “No, of course not! You’re never going to see another dime from us for sales forever. It’s never going to happen. We spent a lot of money FedEx-ing your record all over North America. There’s no way you’re ever going to see any money from us.” Which is fine. We played the game and we lost—that’s what that record is to me. We decided to get in there and act like a real band, and we got fucking slapped around.

What are your thoughts on the way music is distributed these days?

I think when people start talking about like, “You only receive, 1/100^th of a penny for every play on Spotify,” and I think like, why would you receive any more than that? That’s one play, to one person. It’s not radio play, you know? Its not like getting played on drive time, on a commercial Alternative radio station, and reaching a million people in one play. It’s not like that, so why the hell would they ever—why would the royalties be anywhere close to that? Although I’m sure it could be totally tweaked, and they will tweak it as things go along. But for me personally … however people find music is fine with me. Because what it all comes down to is whether they’re going to come see my band play live or not. Who knows, maybe I’ve had a couple of hundred thousand plays on Spotify, but it’s a hundred thousand separate people, all of who didn’t even ask for that, it may have just played because its on the Pavement playlist. Getting into that and getting mad about it, and even having a strong opinion about it is just not my business. I mean, it is my business, but it’s not. It’s like, that stuff will work itself out. I’m lucky enough to luck my way through life and still manage to be a musician, but I do it through the traditional means of playing live shows.

Do you prefer putting out music with Bandcamp? It seems like such a direct way to reach fans.

Yeah, I think Bandcamp is great. Although when you put stuff up, you do have to do it with the reality, and accept the reality, that like out of 100 people that stream your record, maybe one person is going to buy it. Unless you’re like, Sufjan Stevens or something. When we did our EP on Bandcamp, I thought it did really well. We recouped the entire cost of making the album. We were able to make our record based on what we took in from Bandcamp just from the EP that we put out. As far as making it possible for Jason and Bob to fly out to LA to to hang out with me for a couple of weeks to record a record. When I put up my old stuff on Bandcamp, I sell maybe 5 digital copies of it a month. That doesn’t bother me necessarily, because it’s just up, and it’s there, and I did it myself. I made the little page myself, and put the little artwork that I wanted to put in there. I’m able to personalize that stuff enough that I feel like it’s worth my while.

You’re pretty active on social media; do you ever wonder what it would have been like if you had access to services like that when you were starting out? Do you think it would have helped your projects, or would it have been a total disaster?

It probably would have helped. But at the same time, I think I would have wasted shitloads of time like, fighting with critics. Because it even happens today. It’s like, a hundred people could’ve written me to say, “Oh you’re great, I love your new record.” One person could’ve said, “I don’t like it, it’s a piece of shit. You suck, Steve Malkmus is 100 times better than you,” and I would’ve spent the next week composing some kind of response to somebody. It’s almost the nature of it, when you’re young and competitive, you just waste so much time defending yourself—so to speak—and also just caught up in that sort of bullshit of tit for tat, and who’s better than who. It’s like, I heard once that the lead singer of My Morning Jacket is really mad because the guy from Band of Horses sounds like him. That’s the kind of petty shit—even if your band is huge, you have hundreds of thousands of fans, people adore you, and you’re still going to waste your fucking time getting mad thinking some band ripped you off. It’s shocking what the young male mind is capable of. So I just imagine if I would’ve had Facebook and all that shit at my disposal as a kid, I would’ve just been such a dick with it, just getting high and tweeting all the time, just dumb shit. So in a way, I’m glad it was the way it was.

Are there plans for more shows or recording with Dinosaur Jr.?

Yeah, that’s an ongoing thing. We’re supposed to start recording again in the fall.

Has your relationship with the band changed since you’ve been back and released three records?

I mean, Dinosaur is kind of fascinating for me, just because I spent so much time—I mean I got kicked out of the band and I spent—this is an example of what I was talking about—the pettiness of youth, like I said. So much time like, “How dare they kick me out of the band, and J sucks!” I spent so much time doing that, and looking back on that now, it’s like, “Whoa, what an enormous waste of time.” And it’s actually really nice that I’m able to … to be able to come back to that band, and do like a re-do kind of thing is amazing. My relationship with J, and my relationship with that band was difficult, but the thing that J and I have in common is that we think the music is the most important thing. And that’s incredibly refreshing. I get off on that with Dinosaur Jr. I just like the fact that J and I, if we have nothing else in common, we do actually believe in the music above all. We believe that that’s actually more important than whether he and I are like, hugging each other all the time.

What’s coming up for you that you can let us in on?

Well, I have a solo album coming out in September called “Brace the Wave.” So that’s a thing.

Sebadoh play Montreal’s Bar le Ritz PDB on May 26 and Toronto’s Lee Palace on May 27.