To people who’ve never heard him before, Jake Xerxes Fussell says he plays country music. “But that's probably not all that accurate or descriptive or even correct, but it is succinct!” he says. And he also reinvents songs instead of writing his own stuff. Why? “Because I love it more than just about anything in the world. I think I'm getting better at it, and I've never once written a song,” he says.
On his second full-length, What in the Natural World (out March 31), the Durham, NC musician shares reimaginings of old-timey songs from the 1930s and the like. The song "Furniture Man," for example, is based on a 1930 recording by Lil' McClintock, a busker from South Carolina. The reimaginings have not made Fussell any less original, and audiences agree. Throughout his career, after all, Fussell has dueted with Tyler, toured with Mt. Moriah, Nathan Bowles, and Daniel Bachman, and soon he will open for Wilco. He talks to Myspace about his energy for old songs and what his grandparents have to do with it.
Hometown: Columbus, GA
Homebase: Durham, NC
Let me get this straight: you reinterpret, songs, not write new ones. Why?
One of the songs on this album, "Furniture Man," is one that I've been playing, off and on, since I was about 18 years old. I learned it from a 1930 recording of a guy named Lil' McClintock. It's been in my repertoire for a while, even though the way I play it has changed a bit over the years. So I guess you could say it's in a continuous reinterpretation.
In some way, any song you play is a reinterpretation, even if you're as faithful and as purist as you can be to the thing you're reinterpreting. There's gonna be something of your own self in there, whether you like or not. And that goes directly to your other question about why I reinterpret songs: because it never really occurred to me not to do this.
I've long been intrigued with playing traditional music, or so called "folk songs." There are some people who reinterpret these songs in a very period-faithful and puritanical way, and honestly, there's something to be said for that. There's something be said for learning to play WH Stepp's version of "Bonaparte's Retreat" note-for-note or Etta Baker's "Railroad Bill"...to memorize and to get all up inside of a piece like that. It's helpful to see what a song is made of, and to really see how it all works from inside it. And I say that as someone who's done it. I've learned many old songs note-for-note many times over the years, and I don't think I'd be able to do what I do now without having been one of those people.
But on the other hand, I think some of this faithful interpretation business goes too far, at least for my personal taste, so I don't see it as helpful to want to revive the 1920s or anything like that. I find it more interesting to choose songs that I can connect with on some personal, emotional level and try to work with that in some way that intuitively makes sense.
Do you write your own songs at all?
No, I don't. I admire songwriters and have lots of friends who write songs but it just has never been something I've been drawn to do. I like finding older material that suits my voice and particular musical temperament and going from there. It's an intuitive process and it's honestly lots of fun and at times it can be frustrating. But I've found that that alone is quite an endeavor in and of itself. There's plenty of work to do and lots of room for improvement, so I've never find myself with a lack of material or anything. Ther'e always lots of work.
Still, there was always the appeal of becoming a musician.
I grew up in a house that was full of music. There were always lots of instruments around. We always had guitars and fiddles and harmonicas around the house, and through my parents' work in folklore I met all kinds of people who played music really well: Art Rosenbaum, Precious Bryant, Albert Macon & Robert Thomas, Etta Baker, Bobby McMillon, Doug Booth & Joe Berry... I was very fortunate to learn from many of these people in a direct and immediate way. And at the same time I was able to develop an appreciation for the study and documentation of traditional music as a cultural phenomenon of its own. So I kind of grew up in that sort of world. I never really experienced a singular eureka moment about wanting to be a musician because music was so ever-present and it was always what I wanted to do. I never questioned it. Now whether or not I could make it my "career" or whatever has been a different subject altogether. But I'll always be playing music as long as I have hands and ears.
Do you have a family history in music?
Both of my grandmothers had been musically active as younger people. My paternal grandmother, who was from Phenix City, Alabama, had played the ukulele as a child and knew lots of those strange sentimental ballads from the turn of the century, or "tearjerkers," as she called them. My mother's mother was from northern Louisiana and as a youngster had sung alto in a gospel quartet. Her group had even performed on the Louisiana Hayride at some point. My mother could play a couple Methodist hymns on the piano.
Why is your album called What in the Natural World?
I overheard someone say that phrase in a service station a couple years ago, and it stuck with me. Of course, they were saying it as an exclamation. I wound up saying it to myself a lot after that. For many months I didn't have a title for this record, and throughout the entire time I was recording and mixing and listening back to the record, that phrase was kicking around in my head. I mentioned the phrase to my girlfriend, who's good with words, and she said it should be the name of the record.
Who are your musical heroes?
I love Joseph Spence, Etta Baker, Los Cenzontles, Precious Bryant, The Roches, David Hidalgo, The Georgia Sea Island Singers, Los Tigres del Norte, Cecil Barfield, Jimmie Driftwood, Darby & Tarlton, Pharoah Sanders. There are easily a thousand others I could name. I love this singer named "W Lawrence James" and as far as I know he only recorded two songs for Paramount Records in 1927. But those two songs are about as powerful as anything I've heard.
What's the craziest thing a fan has ever done for you?
One time somebody from Wyoming mailed me a jar of their homemade salsa, but they sent it in a big box so I had to go to the post office to retrieve it. But the jar had broken en route and when I arrive at the P.O. all the postal workers were referring to me as the leaky salsa box guy. But that same fan also mailed me a book called "Thornburgh and Other Historic Dogs of Wyoming" so I can't be too upset about it.
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