Pete Yorn

Unwittingly or not, Pete Yorn set himself up for a letdown with his 2001 debut, musicforthemorningafter, an album that induced copious critical spew for its relentless pursuit of mopey pop-rock perfection. By the time of its release, the New Jersey native had generated some buzz around the buzz-gorged Hollywood club scene. A year-and-a-half later, Yorn's music, his heavily whiskered good looks and that voice (a little bit Kurt Cobain, a little bit Peter Murphy) finally found their target among needy post-grad females. The new Day I Forgot smacks of the sort of workman-like deja vu modern rock radio could use more of these days. Sluggish and unbalanced at times, it lacks the streamlined creative rush of its predecessor — but it's hardly the disappointment some would have you believe. From a tour bus somewhere in Ohio, Yorn weighs in about life on the Left Coast, the validity of the so-called sophomore slump, and more.

Creative Loafing: So how's the Jersey boy adjusted to life in L.A.?

Yorn: I adapt pretty easily to my environment. When I was at Syracuse [University], in summers I was going out to L.A. and working. When I moved out there, my brothers were already living there for six years, so it felt pretty natural. When I first came out there, I was working on my music. I put a band together with my middle brother on drums and my buddy from college on bass. We were a three-piece, and we just wanted to try and get a record deal — which we didn't get. It took me four years to get a record deal, but I remember rationalizing, "Well, if I went to law school, I'd still be in school ..."

You couldn't have picked a tougher town to get signed in.

Yeah. A friend of mine from college hooked me up at this little Irish bar called Largo. It was a scene where a lot of singer/songwriters were playing.

Isn't that where Aimee Mann and Michael Penn play? And Grant Lee Phillips ...

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I opened for Grant a few times, but soon I was doing my own shows. I got thrown into this scene of really good songwriters, and felt like I learned a lot hanging around there. I remember the first time I went, there was this kid — Jude, I think — and it was, like, silence. I walk in and creak a floorboard, and everyone is like, "Shhhhh." When it would be my turn to play, everyone would be talking during my set — the complete opposite of Jude. Finally, a point came where people were really starting to pay attention. The first time everyone was silent, I remember thinking to myself, "All right, I'm getting somewhere."

Reviews of Day I Forgot have been mixed.

I fuckin' love this record, and I love playing it live. And I believe that it's a classic record. I can't please everyone all the time.

Maybe it's because people aren't taking enough time with the record; I find that it's more of a grow-on-you album than the last one.

To me, this record seems like the poppier record. Perception is weird. But for me, it's clearly that way.

People seem to be slamming you for not taking enough chances — for not offering anything new.

This is a tighter record. It's a more consistent record. On the first record, I was so anxious to show every side of my influences and make this super-statement of who I am. But on this one, it's more about the songs and vocals — and I see more of a through-line in the songs than I do on the last one.

When and where were these songs written?

They were written over a broad period of time. Some songs before musicforthemorningafter, some after. A lot of songs I wrote on the road; a lot of songs I wrote when I got off the road. It's all over the place. Not only do I write a lot, I record a lot of stuff. On this one, I had 25 songs, so I had to cut [11 songs].

So you started off as a drummer before moving on to other instruments. They say you can learn how to play the drums quickly, but learning how to play them well takes a long time.

Yeah. But sometimes you gotta learn how to play crappy again to make it [sound] good.



Pete Yorn plays Sat., May 16, at the Tabernacle, 152 Luckie St. Grandaddy and Year of the Rabbit open. $15. 7:30 p.m. 404-659-9022. www.atlantaconcerts.com.