Loudon Wainwright III on 40 Odd Years, Rufus, Martha, and Emotionally Flashing

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Up on the Sun: First and foremost, the 40 Odd Years set is your most recent release, and I'm curious as I look it over: do you listen to much of your work once you're done with it, and if so, what was it like listening to it chronologically laid out in that way? Loudon Wainwright III: The answer to that first question is no. Once a record is done, I pretty much never listen to it. I mean, you listen to it hundreds of times when you're making it, but when it's done, and you can't change anything, what's the point, really? When we did the box set, I kind of had to go back and listen to everything I'd ever done, which was a harrowing experience. But an interesting one, too. I mean, a bunch of good songs in there, but it also struck me that despite the fact that more than 40 years have gone by, in terms of my recording career, and my voice certainly has changed a great deal, the things that I write about and they way that I write about them, I don't think has changed that much. So...that surprised me a little bit, although, I don't think people change that much. Except you know, obviously physically. Anyway, that was the kind of observation I came to. That's what I realized when I listened to everything all over again.

I read an interview with you were you stated that you kind of staked out your "beat" as a songwriter, that there were these things you always kind of touched on, and your work has continued to do that throughout the years. Always observing things. The last full length, Songs for the New Depression definitely had that feel. Is it difficult to balance the more personal stuff with the topical stuff?

No. It's a good thing; it's not difficult. It's kind of a release, to get off my the topic of me. I've just finished making a record, which is pretty much all about me again [laughs]. It was great to, you know, jump into some social commentary, write some topical songs, which I've done from time to time. And, I still bring the same toolkit, to use that horrible expression [laughs]. But the focus is off me for a change. That's kind of a relief, probably for me and the listening public.

I like hearing you sing about both. But you mentioned the same toolkit. You're pretty plainspoken about both. When you write about yourself, you don't spare yourself, and are just as blunt as the topical songs. You don't pretty it up. You're not always the hero in your songs.

I guess I don't. I wouldn't disagree with that. I think that if you do something for a long time, despite the fact that I was saying I do it the same way since the beginning. I just have a style of writing and a way of doing it. I suppose that seems redundant. It's funny, I was driving this morning, listening to you know, Sirius Radio, and flipping back and forth between the bluegrass station and Willie's Roadhouse, and all those great old country songs, which I grew up as a teenager listening to bluegrass, country, and folk music. I was struck that I got so much from listening to that, but I don't really write that way. That generic way...I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. That's just how it turned out. It's the same three chords, five chords at the most, but there is...well, anyway.

You've touched on this with your song about "Talking Bob Dylan Blues", but you got the "new Bob Dylan" tag early on. I always got the vibe that you were more transparent than him. More willing to bear yourself, or paint a picture in a way that, I don't know whether it's 100% accurate, but listening to your records, I get a sense that I know something about you, and that's partially the goal.

Yeah, I mean, it's not 100 % accurate. I cover up some things. I open up my raincoat, but I'm wearing my boxer shorts underneath.


I have a tendency to expose, I suppose. But they are songs. They are crafted and worked on and edited. You know, tricked out a little bit. But the stuff comes from the reality of my existence. Which is fairly mundane. Nothing terribly dramatic has happened to me that hasn't happened to most people, you know? So, that's where the identification comes in, I guess. People can recognize what I'm singing about, despite that fact that I'm singing with me in mind.

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Jason P. Woodbury is a music and pop-culture writer based in Phoenix. He is a regular contributor to the music blog Aquarium Drunkard and co-host of the Transmissions podcast.