Still, Case is ONE of the more respected musicians to rise up from an independent and currently thriving scene of young country traditionalists. For the past five years, she’s been singing across the country trails of America and picking up a devoted following due to of her velvet-soaked-in-molasses voice and her evocative, moody music. Now comes her third album, “Blacklisted” (Bloodshot Records), an independent release that features original songs as well as a couple standards (like Aretha Franklin’s “Running Out of Fools”).
But for those of you anxious to see the red-haired gal glittered and glammed up in magazines and on MTV, keep waiting. Case, a do-it-yourself indie girl, is too busy finding her own road–even if it means stopping to fix the transmission on her touring van along the way. Case sat for a spell with NEWSWEEK’s Jac Chebatoris before her recent show in New York City and talked about major labels, doing the dishes and why bad moods are good for you. Excerpts:
NEWSWEEK: You should get together with David Lynch and go bowling. Your songs mix brooding reveries with the bizarre, and they also have a decidedly film-noir quality, with imagery and narratives that are vivid and haunting. Where does this come from?
Neko Case: In western culture, I think we are very afraid of what are considered negative emotions like jealousy or sadness or fear. But really those emotions are just as powerful and complicated as happiness. You learn from those feelings. You’re supposed to spend time with those feelings. If someone’s depressed, people work really hard to try to figure out how to get over it. But it’s better to spend a little time with it. And those emotions are a great link to your subconscious, which is very important.
Your new record, “Blacklisted,” has great momentum. Talk some about the benefits of being on an independent label instead of a major. Do you even have any desire to be on a major label?
I would be if the deals were different. I don’t know if there’s a deal out there for me. Music is not supposed to be some mathematically formatted sound that is supposed to appeal to a certain demographic. It’s what comforts people. That’s what happened long ago with the great songwriters that I admired; their songs were really timeless and they’re not overly specific, but they’re very empathetic. The majors are having a hard time right now, but maybe they’ll diversify. Maybe there’s room for someone like me and Faith Hill at the same time.
You’re pursuing your art in a very “do it yourself” kind of way. You’re even your own tour manager. Do you want to get bigger?
I don’t want to play in arenas. I don’t have extravagant tastes. I’m the kind of person who likes to do things myself. I like to use my hands, I like to drive. There’s a lot of great things that happen in that kind of situation. The other day our transmission blew, which really sucked, but we didn’t freak out. We ended up being towed to Montreal and the four of us were in the cab of the tow truck talking to Roger, a driver who does Elvis impersonations. It was a f–king great time.
You resist being classified as “alt-country.” But if you say you play “country,” won’t people just think of Faith Hill–actually the last person they should think of when it comes to you?
I just don’t think “alt-country” specifically applies to me. I grew up listening to country music, and now that I’m here in the present, I want to play country music. I don’t want it to be called alternative to something. And that other stuff [Hill and other artists like her] is “new country.” So many things that I worshipped as a kid are gone–be them buildings, places or institutions. It’s like that final scene in the “Planet of the Apes” where the Statue of Liberty is buried halfway in the sand. That’s what it feels like. I would just like to reclaim something.
How are you pulling all this off in an industry that seems to want its onstage sirens glammed, gussied-up and Maxim-guy friendly?
Not being on a major label, you have to work extra hard, but it feels good. Nobody wants me to go to the fat farm because I’m not skinny enough, nobody’s telling me that my looks aren’t good enough. Nobody wants a designer to pick out my clothes for my show. I just want to focus on what I’m doing. I care more about my torque converter than what I’m going to wear onstage.
There are actually various permutations of Neko Case. You started out playing drums as a teenager in a punk band called Maow and now, besides your own music, you sing with other bands called The New Pornographers and The Corn Sisters. Do you ever have time off? What do you do with it?
Sometimes I just want to spend a week in my pajamas, spacing out, doing little projects in my house. Cleaning the bathroom is awesome, I don’t care. Laying in my bed, reading a book. Walking around the neighborhood is my favorite thing ever. Just doing the dishes is f–king fascinating! It feels great.
