Ms. Universal
Jolie Holland uses old-timey music to deal with deep truths
Times change, the human heart doesn’t. So while Jolie Holland writes about nostalgic stuff like ukuleles, trains, and “Old Fashioned Morphine,” her themes are even older, delving into fear, hope, love and other feelings that make up a person’s soul. “It’s really important for me to tell the truth in my songs,” Holland says from her San Francisco home. “I’m aiming for both personal and deeper universal truth. I don’t figure that I have any monopoly on anything, experience or otherwise. If I feel a certain way, other people have [felt that way] or do sometimes.”
Holland’s music, an Americana mix of folk, blues, jazz and gospel, also has an old-fashioned feel. From the loping country waltz “Black Stars” to jazzy torch songs like “Amen,” Holland conjures the sounds of Bessie Smith, Billie Holiday, and an age gone by. But what distinguishes her style, perhaps more than anything, is the way she imbues her songs with a survivor’s spirit.
“Maybe I’m a poor girl, but I don’t let it bother me none,” Holland sings on “Poor Girl’s Blues.” “When this world comes crashing down/I know I’ll be standing in the sun.”
“That’s one of the things I’m trying to express - this kind of crazy idealism,” Holland says. “This unrealistic idealism that’s always reaching for something that almost seems possible.”
That sense of hope and possibility has marked Holland’s life and music. Though last year’s Escondida was Holland’s first solo studio album, she released a set of home recordings, titled Catalpa, the previous year. She’s been into music for as long as she can remember, and even lived in a Louisiana studio during her teens.
“I’ve been recording on a pretty regular basis since I was 19,” Holland says. “I was always just really interested in it. It was my own personal obsession. I never had any lessons. And I’ve been writing songs since I was a kid. It was pure personal obsession.”
Like many artists who inform the Americana movement of the last decade, Holland grew up something of a punk rocker when she was young and living in Texas. Only later did she begin discovering and nurturing a love for traditional American music.
“I really started getting into it in like 1996, when I was just entering my 20s,” she says. “Before then, the closest I got to roots music was the Pogues. [It started by] hearing Woody Guthrie and Leadbelly and how simple and powerful it is. Then I kept finding stuff more powerful than that. Like, have you ever heard of the Georgia Sea Island singers? That shit is way more rock ‘n’ roll than rock ‘n’ roll. There are all these recordings from the late ’50s in their church, and it sounds African, all this clapping and stomping and singing. This shit is so powerful, especially if you can understand the words.”
Holland tries to bring that kind of immediacy to her own music. “We only took four-and-a-half days to record Escondida,” she says. “And that was good because I wanted a really live sound. Most of the songs are first takes and there’s even one unrehearsed first take in there. The whole aesthetic of the band is really about interaction and we don’t necessarily know what we’re playing until we’re playing it. Everyone in the band has a kind of jazz aesthetic like that.”
The new album was initially hard for Holland to finish after the acclaim she received for Catalpa. Tom Waits even nominated it for the prestigious Shortlist award.
“I was giving myself a lot of pressure last year,” she says. “I was kind of freaking out thinking, ‘I’ve got to write great songs because everyone’s listening now.’ And that’s a dumb way to work. But, obviously, some people get record deals and then they start sucking. It’s not too uncommon.” Now she tries to use those feelings as part of her creative process: “Shame and doubt are really important.”
Music@Creativeloafing.com
Holland’s music, an Americana mix of folk, blues, jazz and gospel, also has an old-fashioned feel. From the loping country waltz “Black Stars” to jazzy torch songs like “Amen,” Holland conjures the sounds of Bessie Smith, Billie Holiday, and an age gone by. But what distinguishes her style, perhaps more than anything, is the way she imbues her songs with a survivor’s spirit.
“Maybe I’m a poor girl, but I don’t let it bother me none,” Holland sings on “Poor Girl’s Blues.” “When this world comes crashing down/I know I’ll be standing in the sun.”
“That’s one of the things I’m trying to express - this kind of crazy idealism,” Holland says. “This unrealistic idealism that’s always reaching for something that almost seems possible.”
That sense of hope and possibility has marked Holland’s life and music. Though last year’s Escondida was Holland’s first solo studio album, she released a set of home recordings, titled Catalpa, the previous year. She’s been into music for as long as she can remember, and even lived in a Louisiana studio during her teens.
“I’ve been recording on a pretty regular basis since I was 19,” Holland says. “I was always just really interested in it. It was my own personal obsession. I never had any lessons. And I’ve been writing songs since I was a kid. It was pure personal obsession.”
Like many artists who inform the Americana movement of the last decade, Holland grew up something of a punk rocker when she was young and living in Texas. Only later did she begin discovering and nurturing a love for traditional American music.
“I really started getting into it in like 1996, when I was just entering my 20s,” she says. “Before then, the closest I got to roots music was the Pogues. [It started by] hearing Woody Guthrie and Leadbelly and how simple and powerful it is. Then I kept finding stuff more powerful than that. Like, have you ever heard of the Georgia Sea Island singers? That shit is way more rock ‘n’ roll than rock ‘n’ roll. There are all these recordings from the late ’50s in their church, and it sounds African, all this clapping and stomping and singing. This shit is so powerful, especially if you can understand the words.”
Holland tries to bring that kind of immediacy to her own music. “We only took four-and-a-half days to record Escondida,” she says. “And that was good because I wanted a really live sound. Most of the songs are first takes and there’s even one unrehearsed first take in there. The whole aesthetic of the band is really about interaction and we don’t necessarily know what we’re playing until we’re playing it. Everyone in the band has a kind of jazz aesthetic like that.”
The new album was initially hard for Holland to finish after the acclaim she received for Catalpa. Tom Waits even nominated it for the prestigious Shortlist award.
“I was giving myself a lot of pressure last year,” she says. “I was kind of freaking out thinking, ‘I’ve got to write great songs because everyone’s listening now.’ And that’s a dumb way to work. But, obviously, some people get record deals and then they start sucking. It’s not too uncommon.” Now she tries to use those feelings as part of her creative process: “Shame and doubt are really important.”
Music@Creativeloafing.com