Austin Lucas
A punky folk-singer walks the line
Ralph Eberhard
Austin Lucas
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Punks going country is nothing new; over the past few years, everyone from Memphis’ Lucero to Fort Collins’ Drag The River has gotten mileage out of funneling punk’s texture and energy into twangy Americana. Portland’s Austin Lucas, however, embodies both genres in a far more extreme way: A veteran of über-abrasive crust-punk bands, the Indiana-bred singer-songwriter grew up attending folk and bluegrass festivals as well as playing roots music with his family. With a simple yet literate style full of homespun grace, Lucas has released a handful of records—including Bristle Ridge, a collaboration with Chuck Ragan of the beloved punk outfit Hot Water Music—in preparation for his upcoming full-length, Somebody Loves You, due next year on Denver’s Suburban Home Records. Currently part of The Revival Tour featuring acoustic sets from Ragan, Lucero’s Ben Nichols, Avail’s Tim Barry, and Drag The River’s Jon Snodgrass, Lucas spoke with Decider about legacy, tradition, and the sins of freak folk.
Decider: You were raised in a family that was immersed in traditional folk and country music. How did that affect your view of music?
Austin Lucas: My father was a working musician—he still is; he tours as much as I do, at least—and when I was little, he’d invite me onstage to sing with him. When I was a little baby, he’d even put me on the palm of his hand and hold me, balance me, while he was up there. I was immediately drawn to music because of my father’s musical background. It made me feel like that was life; music was just what people did. It was like breathing or eating food. It was you did to survive.
Austin Lucas: My father was a working musician—he still is; he tours as much as I do, at least—and when I was little, he’d invite me onstage to sing with him. When I was a little baby, he’d even put me on the palm of his hand and hold me, balance me, while he was up there. I was immediately drawn to music because of my father’s musical background. It made me feel like that was life; music was just what people did. It was like breathing or eating food. It was you did to survive.
D: At any point did you ever completely rebel against your musical upbringing?
AL: No, I was never like, “That music is terrible. I hate it.” To this day, I still don’t like some of my father’s contemporaries, some of the older folk scene. They’re really amazing people, but I’m not into their songwriting. There are other types of music I rejected in my punk days that I like again, like bad pop, stuff I listened to in fifth grade. But Americana music—folk and country, the good stuff—it always touches me.
AL: No, I was never like, “That music is terrible. I hate it.” To this day, I still don’t like some of my father’s contemporaries, some of the older folk scene. They’re really amazing people, but I’m not into their songwriting. There are other types of music I rejected in my punk days that I like again, like bad pop, stuff I listened to in fifth grade. But Americana music—folk and country, the good stuff—it always touches me.
D: Earlier this year you released a record titled At War With Freak Folk. What exactly did you mean by that?
AL: That was really tongue-in-cheek. I had the pleasure of meeting Joanna Newsom once, and I think she’s really amazing. Her last record, Ys, is one of the best records in the last 10 years, for sure. But the truth is, I don’t like a lot of freak folk. When I listen to Devendra Banhart and stuff like that, I have no idea what they’re talking about. I think folk music should tell stories, not be some obscure play on words that’s supposed to be poetic but just sounds like drivel. Also, I feel like the freak-folk artists are essentially hippies, and they’re kind of the opposite of all this folk-punk that’s around now. I don’t like the term folk-punk, and I don’t consider myself a folk-punk, but I still thought it would be funny to say, “We’re the punks, and that’s hippie shit.” But some people found it really offensive. I thought I was a genius when I came up with the name of that record, like, “Let’s carry the punks-versus-hippies thing into the folk scene.” [Laughs.] If anyone thinks that’s hateful instead of funny, that’s cool. But you have to realize my parents are old hippies. Real hippies: politically active, musical, artistic. They were the real deal.
AL: That was really tongue-in-cheek. I had the pleasure of meeting Joanna Newsom once, and I think she’s really amazing. Her last record, Ys, is one of the best records in the last 10 years, for sure. But the truth is, I don’t like a lot of freak folk. When I listen to Devendra Banhart and stuff like that, I have no idea what they’re talking about. I think folk music should tell stories, not be some obscure play on words that’s supposed to be poetic but just sounds like drivel. Also, I feel like the freak-folk artists are essentially hippies, and they’re kind of the opposite of all this folk-punk that’s around now. I don’t like the term folk-punk, and I don’t consider myself a folk-punk, but I still thought it would be funny to say, “We’re the punks, and that’s hippie shit.” But some people found it really offensive. I thought I was a genius when I came up with the name of that record, like, “Let’s carry the punks-versus-hippies thing into the folk scene.” [Laughs.] If anyone thinks that’s hateful instead of funny, that’s cool. But you have to realize my parents are old hippies. Real hippies: politically active, musical, artistic. They were the real deal.
D: Why do want to avoid the folk-punk tag?
AL: I do not mix folk and punk at all. And even my folk is more mountain influenced, more country. I think it’s perfectly fine to mix styles. To do anything new, you have to. But I’m more interested in making songs that sound traditional. The big difference is, I use a lot of wordplay; I don’t use all the simple storytelling methods that the old-timers did. I’m a little more wordy.
AL: I do not mix folk and punk at all. And even my folk is more mountain influenced, more country. I think it’s perfectly fine to mix styles. To do anything new, you have to. But I’m more interested in making songs that sound traditional. The big difference is, I use a lot of wordplay; I don’t use all the simple storytelling methods that the old-timers did. I’m a little more wordy.
D: What pushes you to add that extra lyrical element?
AL: To be honest, the music just comes out of me that way. I’m not really trying to go for anything. The one thing I can say, though, is that I don’t want the music to be too complicated. I want people to be able to access what I’m talking about. I use a lot of metaphor, but I don’t think it’s difficult. I speak in pretty plain language. The older I get, the simpler I want music to be; I want to hear some melody, and I want to hear a story. I don’t think that’s too much to ask for.
AL: To be honest, the music just comes out of me that way. I’m not really trying to go for anything. The one thing I can say, though, is that I don’t want the music to be too complicated. I want people to be able to access what I’m talking about. I use a lot of metaphor, but I don’t think it’s difficult. I speak in pretty plain language. The older I get, the simpler I want music to be; I want to hear some melody, and I want to hear a story. I don’t think that’s too much to ask for.
