Julian Koster
The Music Tapes maestro wants his saws to sing carols for you
Of the issues that dominate political discourse—health care, global warming, the economic crisis—there may be none more divisive than Christmas music. From the moment it infects department stores sometime between Halloween and Thanksgiving, the cloying sappiness and indomitable good cheer begin to work on the nerves, turning even the royalest “O Tannenbaum” fans into Grinches. Fear not, though: The Music Tapes’ Julian Koster is coming to town with a unique take on both Yuletide music and touring. On his new album, The Singing Saw At Christmastime, Koster arranges standards like “Frosty The Snowman” and “Silent Night” for a chorus of musical saws, and the results are simultaneously haunting and achingly familiar. It’s worthy of joining the pantheon of genuinely accomplished Christmas records, alongside Low’s Christmas and Sufjan Stevens’ Songs For Christmas. Koster’s also forgoing the usual bars and clubs in favor of caroling from house to house. He’s taking invitations up until the night before his group hits Madison on Nov. 27, Thanksgiving Day. It’s a bold choice, to be sure, but not an unexpected one from a musical outlier like Koster. Decider talked with him recently about his prophetic dreams, the strangely anthropic behavior of saws, and, of course, Christmas.
Decider: How did you get into playing the musical saw, and what makes it particularly good for Christmas music?
Julian Koster: When I was little, I had a dream that one walked into my bedroom and sang to me all by itself. When I grew a bit older, I saw the most wonderful old man with a saw singing in his lap near the Sheep’s Meadow in Central Park. I was and have been in love with the sound of their singing ever since, and I am grateful they sing for me as well. Most saws are children, and it feels to me their voices sing in the language angels might speak in. They sound like the memory of something you miss, or a story someone once told you, maybe your favorite uncle late one holiday evening.
D: With a chorus of saws, are there different sizes for different ranges? Like bass saws and soprano saws?
JK: Every saw has its own voice! Just like human beings. Some sing very low, and others higher than birds, even. Some only like to sing one note, but they do it so nicely!
D: How did you come up with the idea to get a chorus of saws to do Christmas carols? Do you have a particular fondness for Christmas music?
JK: They found me, all the saws. They started showing up at my doorstep night after night many years ago. There would be a knock at the door and there would be a new saw waiting—or I should say “old,” since some were quite old and from far away. I don’t know if they came of their own accord, or were persuaded to come by my friends who have a warm sense of humor. But I do know that saws sing all by themselves, and that when amassed they [sing together]. Very late at night. They sang the “Schedrevka” that’s on [The Music Tapes’ album] Clouds And Tornadoes. It felt like Christmas to me. I love Christmas stories and old Christmas records very much. I have a great and particular fondness for holidays. I like the way human beings relate to each other and the universe around them during them.
D: For a lot of people, it seems like Christmas music can be wearying, so any effort to approach the music differently is laudable. Do you see a connection between your approach and other non-traditional Christmas albums like Low’s or Sufjan Stevens’?
JK: I’m not familiar with those, but I’d love to hear them and have heard a lot about them! I think there’s a sort of holiday in a lot of the sorts of things I like to imagine, so I guess I’m just used to holiday being around, sort of like the deer on the island I live on. They don’t always let you see them, but you feel them. You know that they’re there.
D: Obviously, caroling is inherently linked with Christmas music, but do you think this kind of touring might have legs, especially for small acoustic groups?
JK: Oh, that was my dream. I want to tour this way lots, in other parts of the world also. I think that bedrooms and neighborhoods and people’s days are where music lives. I think that music is a great friend to many people, and that people’s friends should come visit them also.
D: You’re not asking for money on this tour, but if people are going to make things like hot cider and cookies or egg nog, do you have any dietary restrictions they should be aware of?
JK: It’s been wonderful. People have written that they are going to make all sorts of things. I don’t eat animals or anything that comes from them. But I eat sugar. Lots of sugar.
Julian Koster: When I was little, I had a dream that one walked into my bedroom and sang to me all by itself. When I grew a bit older, I saw the most wonderful old man with a saw singing in his lap near the Sheep’s Meadow in Central Park. I was and have been in love with the sound of their singing ever since, and I am grateful they sing for me as well. Most saws are children, and it feels to me their voices sing in the language angels might speak in. They sound like the memory of something you miss, or a story someone once told you, maybe your favorite uncle late one holiday evening.
D: With a chorus of saws, are there different sizes for different ranges? Like bass saws and soprano saws?
JK: Every saw has its own voice! Just like human beings. Some sing very low, and others higher than birds, even. Some only like to sing one note, but they do it so nicely!
D: How did you come up with the idea to get a chorus of saws to do Christmas carols? Do you have a particular fondness for Christmas music?
JK: They found me, all the saws. They started showing up at my doorstep night after night many years ago. There would be a knock at the door and there would be a new saw waiting—or I should say “old,” since some were quite old and from far away. I don’t know if they came of their own accord, or were persuaded to come by my friends who have a warm sense of humor. But I do know that saws sing all by themselves, and that when amassed they [sing together]. Very late at night. They sang the “Schedrevka” that’s on [The Music Tapes’ album] Clouds And Tornadoes. It felt like Christmas to me. I love Christmas stories and old Christmas records very much. I have a great and particular fondness for holidays. I like the way human beings relate to each other and the universe around them during them.
D: For a lot of people, it seems like Christmas music can be wearying, so any effort to approach the music differently is laudable. Do you see a connection between your approach and other non-traditional Christmas albums like Low’s or Sufjan Stevens’?
JK: I’m not familiar with those, but I’d love to hear them and have heard a lot about them! I think there’s a sort of holiday in a lot of the sorts of things I like to imagine, so I guess I’m just used to holiday being around, sort of like the deer on the island I live on. They don’t always let you see them, but you feel them. You know that they’re there.
D: Obviously, caroling is inherently linked with Christmas music, but do you think this kind of touring might have legs, especially for small acoustic groups?
JK: Oh, that was my dream. I want to tour this way lots, in other parts of the world also. I think that bedrooms and neighborhoods and people’s days are where music lives. I think that music is a great friend to many people, and that people’s friends should come visit them also.
D: You’re not asking for money on this tour, but if people are going to make things like hot cider and cookies or egg nog, do you have any dietary restrictions they should be aware of?
JK: It’s been wonderful. People have written that they are going to make all sorts of things. I don’t eat animals or anything that comes from them. But I eat sugar. Lots of sugar.
"Santa Claus Is Coming To Town" by Julian Koster and Nesey Gallons:
