Grouper

I can understand the appeal of the Bon Iver story. All music publications look for a hook to hang an album on, and the shack in the country angle was too good to pass up. After all, isn’t authenticity what we really crave in our artists? That the creative process should mimic the actual art-work itself; as sad as Daniel Johnston’s mental problems are, they undoubtedly make his music that much more poignant. And why shouldn’t they? After all, material events, the context around which a album, or a film, or whatever, is created obviously has a bearing on our perception of said artwork. Yet what if there is no defining ‘story’ behind a record? Shouldn’t our role as discerning consumers/listeners be to be able to pick out and appreciate music without needing or relying on a clear narrative to sell it/be sold? Not that we should disregard how an album has been made, or the circumstances that surround it, but rather not see it as the defining characteristic; or rather, see things as less black and white.

It’s exactly this preoccupation with shade that, for me, makes Grouper’s Dragging A Dead Dear Up A Hill the album of the year. Most of Liz Harris’s previous output had been equally arresting: thick, rich atmospheric songs wrapped in layers of reverb and lo-fi crackle. Here, however, for the first time, she chose to peel back some of that protective scar tissue, leaving the songs themselves exposed and, partially, audible for the first time. Not that these can be described as ‘traditional’ songs – on almost all the tracks its still impossible to make out most of the lyrics, whilst the vocals and guitar still have an almost choral coating of feedback.

Yet by opening her songs up, Harris has made them more affecting, more approachable. Indeed, what makes Dragging... such a touching, remarkable album, is its vulnerability, the songs themselves seeming extraordinarily fragile and dreamlike. The overarching theme of the record is the very subtlety with which the tracks themselves are created, the thin dividing line between shadow and light, decay and life. So there are numerous references to dreaming and sleeping, alongside titles that reference gutting fish and dragging dead dears. Perhaps the most significant imagery is that of the sea, something that crops up over and over again in the album’s words and song titles. The ocean best exemplifies the impression that Dragging... leaves you with: that the same thing can be at once terrifically cathartic and painfully overwhelming. What makes Harris unique is that rather than delve further into the murky realm of the self – emphasising the ‘story’ behind her music, or even making that music about her – she explores what happens when you step into the shade, the grey areas where individuality breaks down, merging into the background, the wider picture.

The half-audible lyrics make this process all the more powerful, allowing you both to interpret them as you chose and to place the emphasis on the overall effect of the music. In that respect, Dragging... perhaps most closely resembles Panda Bear’s hypnotic 'Young Prayer'. Yet even that album doesn’t quite achieve the almost tragic scope of the soundscapes here. On one track Harris sings, “invisible, I’ve become invisible”, and you realise that it’s possible to feel both scared and enchanted by that sentiment. Here, there is no quantifiable ‘story’, but rather something altogether more challenging – a journey into the shadows, a place at once beautiful, complex and frightening.

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Before you made the album, did you start out with any specific aims? For example - what did you want the album to sound like? What emotions did you want to convey/express?

Most writing for me feels half pre-meditation, half shaping it as I go. I don't really go looking for something, it's more like answering the door when someone's knocking, but sometimes the door takes second to find. I did set out to create a cohesive vessel from pieces I had been recording which all felt like they should go together. And I did want it all to feel fluid and connected, and have tried to do that with the other releases I've done as well. The composition of the entire thing always feels at least as important than the perfection of each individual song.


Was this album borne of, or inspired by, any specific events or a particular era of your life?

It was shaped by broader elements than that, but it ended up being tied to memories of childhood in some ways. Also to emotions in the present, and to metaphors about the nature of the things around us, in a very open sense, and to an internal dream world.


Were there any other artists or albums you had in mind when picturing how you wanted 'Dragging…' to sound?

No, not consciously, though I appreciate other albums where the songs all feel like different parts of the same dream, where its spun together somehow.


Was the process of writing and recording it broadly similar to your other records?

It took longer, I chewed on it more. Like carving something as opposed to pouring cement. I had little free time on my hands to work on it, was trying to travel, doing more sound work details, and changes were slow. John (Type) and I joked about how I'd cursed the album by its name—that it's making became an example of the action in the title. Specifically, each part of the process just took a long time. In the end I just felt that it needed to do that, and didn't worry about it, just let it spin out at its own pace.


On this album, more than ever before, the vocals and lyrics are reasonably clear. Why did you make that decision?

It was a natural progression.

On the same note - many of these songs, whilst still abstract and dreamlike, feel much more 'traditional' than your previous work, with a defined progression and arc. Was this something you were consciously trying to achieve? If so, why?

Not consciously. I have always been playing songs with structure. I guess that the gauze around them various in its thickness. I think the biggest change in that sound feel has been due to production and equipment change (I bought a 4 track that works), and to gradually getting a bit less shy.

A lot of the songs mention transitory states ('Sleeping', 'Dragging', 'Falling'). What is it about these states of being that interest you?

I can't say that all that is conscious. The world does seem to constantly be moving. I do like to stay moving, I'm very watery. Very into the idea of accepting and going with constant change, into adapting and trying to expand outwards. I'm going to cloud her memory with my blockish paraphrasing, but Octavia Butler said through one of her characters in the Earthseed series that change is the only real force consistent and strong enough to be considered a god, the only thing worth worshipping with your awareness and submission.


Can you explain the relationship between the violent imagery of some of the tracks ('Gutting' a fish, 'Dragging' a dead deer) and the seemingly more innocuous thoughts other songs express (like, 'I'd rather be sleeping')?

There has to be some blood. Darkness and decay are fundamental as happiness and longevity. My friend who writes poetry, and who I admire the brain of, said to me that a hard thing to convey, and an element she always finds admirable in a creative vessel is the presence of both light and darkness, in a way that still acknowledges the beauty of both. We all have both in us, moving around and taking turns. "'I'd Rather Be Sleeping/Heavy Water" is about how I'd rather drown in the ocean than live in the real world without the freedom and the emotion that can be felt in dreams and the internal world, because then at least it would be near as intense—I think if you could see the lyrics of the other songs too you'd see that none of them are really just happy or flitty. All of them have a rust.


What significance do these images of decay have for you?

Decay is a reminder of the temporary nature of the vessel we're in. A fascinating reminder. To decay is to return your clothing, to give back the shell. Have been thinking a lot about the relationship between the spirit and the vessel, definitely see them as separate though close, like a hand inside a glove. Sometimes it feels like a trap, sometimes it feels like an amazing synthesis of spirit-with-intent and capable machine.

This may be related to the last question, but can you explain how you came about the title of the record?

Seems like we all make our own history with our own mile markers, turn moments into symbols that serve to explain something about how we are who are we are in the present. I dragged a dead deer up a hill as a child and the image stayed in my mind. That was a mile marker for me, I've woven it in, made all the lines bold.

What does 'becoming invisible' mean to you? Is it a peaceful, or a painful process?

It's both. I think ultimately I cherish being able now and then to fade in to the background and not have to interact with anyone, not be subject to the everyday kind of glancing on the street, being in close proximity to other people, talking to other people, etc. As a child I spent most my time finding a quiet spot to be alone in, my friends were in ghost worlds and in dreams. I wanted to be invisible, to go to one of those other worlds. At times you feel invisible because no one is seeing you though, and you don't necessarily want to be invisible then, you want to be seen or thought of, remembered.


What role does the sea play in the imagery of the album? Is it a benign or a threatening presence?

A benign surrender to its threatening presence. Seeing a tidal wave rear up and throwing myself in to it. Being lured off shore by the horizon in to deep water and then letting myself drown peacefully rather than turn back. Preferring to be offshore treading water or at the bottom of the ocean than on dry ground.

To me, much of your work has a meditative, almost spiritual quality to it. Do you view music-making as a cathartic process?

Yes

Would you describe 'Dragging…' as a hopeful album?

I wouldn't use the word hopeful, but I would hope it's a balance of light and dark that ultimately moves forward despite the nature of its separate parts.

What are your plans for the future? Have you started thinking about the next album?

I am recording music, I have a lot of recorded music right now. It's hard to keep track of. I have a list of songs I need to either bury or finally record. I have to think about what to do with it, take some time. Don't want to do things one way just because I have done them that way before.

http://www.myspace.com/grouperrepuorg