Bry Webb
While it’s been commonly held that Sting’s mammoth ego led to the demise of The Police, Bry Webb says fatherhood—not vanity—led to the breakup of the Constantines. The trials of being a punk-rock dad are documented in Webb’s recent solo debut, Provider, a stripped-down folk record inspired by his 10-month-old son (“Asa”), wife (“Persistent Spirit,” “Lowlife”), and new domestic life in the sleepy suburbs of Guelph. It’s peaceful, soulful, sparse, and highly approved by Webb’s current tourmate, Leslie Feist.
If there’s one similarity between Webb and Sting, then, it’s that both have made the transition from scrappy post-punk band frontmen to tranquil, adult-oriented solo artists. Incidentally, several think pieces, have cropped up in recent months debating whether the recent maturation of acts like Feist, Wilco, and Radiohead signifies that indie rock is becoming “the new adult contemporary.” A genre once embraced for its quirky outsider ethos is mutating into safe, toothless “cool dad rock,” the argument goes.
Before his opening slot for Feist tonight at Massey Hall, Webb talked to The A.V. Club about the Constantines, the journey from punk to papa, and how it feels to be making muzak for grownups.
The A.V. Club: You’re opening for Feist. That’s a pretty big deal, eh?
Bry Webb: Yeah. After the second recording session for Provider, Leslie e-mailed me and asked if I would open her Canadian tour, which was out of the blue and completely blew my mind. For her to offer that, when I didn’t even have a record out, was amazing. She had heard some of my stuff with my other band, The Harbour Coats, which was a real boost for sure. But she just kind of dropped this at my door, and it was such a crazy and flattering thing. So I called [Provider producer] Jeff McMurrich, and was like, “Do you think we can get this finished by November 15?” Which is insane. If it was a label with more than three people on it, it wouldn’t be possible. But he called, Alex Durlak [of Idée Fixe Records] said they would totally make it work, and they did. It’s insane.
Playing Massey Hall is a lifetime dream. I’m so thankful to Leslie for offering that opportunity. It really speaks to her character, you know? She’s had great, well-deserved success, and now she’s helping out people in kind of an unconventional way, because, like I said, I didn’t have a record when she asked me to do that. It was a very nice thing.
AVC: Provider takes a very tranquil, minimalistic approach, which is quite a departure from the raucous music you made with the Constantines. Why’d you decide to take that route?
BW: I kind of feel like it had to be. The Constantines, for me ... I had to stop, at the time, because it just wasn’t healthy. I was sick for 80 percent of the tours we did in the last few years. I tried to be as healthy as I could on the tours, but invariably you’re going to have nights where you get two hours’ sleep. I was yelling all the time, so it would just kind of blow me out. But I loved that band dearly. It was the most incredible period in my life, for sure. I don’t have any desire to try and replicate that with another thing; I feel like this has to be completely different. So, with this project, the instrumentation is nothing like the Constantines; it’s an acoustic guitar, vocals, lap steel, pedal steel, and upright bass. That had to be what it was, and this has to be its own thing.
And I’m also just in a different headspace now. I have a son now, who’s 10 months old, and it’s a little more practical to be writing quiet songs than loud songs at home. It’s reflective of where I am in my life. And honestly, I just made that recording for my son. Like, that’s the reason it exists. I mean, I’m lucky that Jeff McMurrich and Alex Durlak were interested in recording it and putting it out. And I hope that other people like it, for sure. But as long as it means something to Asa, our son, then it will have served its purpose. It’s kind of a new and freeing way of making music. It’s helped me out a lot in the last year.
AVC: Would you say you left the Constantines to become a family man?
BW: My whole life revolves my family and our son now; my wife and our son. Music is something I need to do, I kind of realized. I can’t not make music, personally. But it has to be in way that is healthy for my family and easy on them. With the Cons, even in a slow year, I was away from home a third of the year. I can’t imagine doing that with our son at home now. I’m trying to figure out what I’m going to do. I will tour this record somehow, but it will be very careful planning and little bits at a time. With this kind of music, you can potentially play church basements or smaller halls. And potentially earlier shows. I love punk rock shows, and I still try to go to shows in Guelph, but to do a tour like that right now wouldn’t make any sense in terms of what my priorities are.
AVC: Is that sort of what the song “Ex-Punks” is about?
BW: “Ex-Punks” is about being 34 and loving punk rock and the idea of punk for 20 years and still trying to figure out what it is. I don’t necessarily believe punk is a sound or an instrumentation; I think it’s just an immediacy and an economical way of making music and a very live-focused, in-the-moment way of approaching creativity. And also using creativity to express suspicion or resistance to parts of life that you don’t sympathize with. It’s just about trying to come to terms with all of those ideas and still believing in those things as important.
AVC: There was a recent New York Magazine article stating that indie rock acts like Feist and Wilco are becoming the new adult contemporary, in that they’re making tranquil music “that brings a few new ideas to middle of the road American music, but approaches it from artful enough directions to not seem entirely futsy.” What’s your take on that?
BW: Well, adult contemporary has such terrible connotations. I can’t embrace that at all. But I know what they’re saying, and I appreciate that. I feel like it’s just about song, you know? Leslie Feist and Jeff Tweedy just want to create interesting moments in song, and they’re drawn to certain sounds. But, I don’t know, I think adult contemporary is such a marketing term that, to me, defined the most mediocre, unpassionate music of the ’80s and ’90s. It was very particular radio music that was almost always intended as background music. So I object to that. And I don’t associate Wilco and Feist and anybody who’s doing mellow music with that idea, but I appreciate what they’re saying in that it’s not abrasive. It’s not extreme music in any obvious way, but it is artful. So I think that’s accurate.
AVC: A record can still be kind of punk without sounding overtly in-your-face, right?
BW: Yeah, it doesn’t have to have loud guitars and yelling and fast drumming or whatever, you know? Early Johnny Thunders songs, like “You Can’t Put Your Arm Around A Memory”—that’s a beautiful, beautiful sentimental ballad, but it’s still punk. It’s still got that spirit. You can tell it was recorded without overproduction and with immediate recording. That’s part of the spirit of it. I think there’s something vital about being economical with the way you express yourself. Although we recorded [Provider] in a really great facility like Jeff’s studio, it was done very economically and with sparse production. We didn’t try to overproduce it, so that’s a little bit of an expression of that.
AVC: Does this solo record of yours mean that the Constantines are over?
BW: Well, I don’t know. Like I said, I loved that band. I absolutely loved it. I loved all the guys in that band. It was the most incredible period in my life for sure. I also love everything that those guys are doing independent of the Constantines. Baby Eagle, Steve [Lambke]’s project, is amazing. Dallas [Wehrle] is in Deloro, who I think people are going to realize have released one of the best records of the year and is one of the coolest bands going. Will [Kidman] is still performing under his own name, and his songs are incredible; he’s been playing with Julie Doiron for several years, and he’s an amazing musician. And Doug [MacGregor] just played drums John Samson’s record from The Weakerthans. He’s an amazing drummer, and I bet there are a lot of people who will want him to play drums. But all that said, part of me—the pure ego part of me—would love to imagine us playing together again, and I don’t want to say it will never happen. Part of me would love for it to happen again, purely on selfish grounds. The other part of me knows it’s probably best to let it be what it was. I can’t say either way. Who knows?
AVC: You’ve decided on a sound, adult-oriented approach to music instead of doing the AC/DC thing: playing loud and touring hard while hooked up to oxygen machines.
BW: You can’t knock AC/DC, though. I can’t stand for that. I love AC/DC, and the Rolling Stones are my favourite band in the world because they refuse to be anything but a great garage band. They never really got better, but they kept playing, and Mick Jagger continues to act like a maniac; like a 20-year-old onstage. I kind of love it; it’s unrelenting. So I totally appreciate people that keep going on that level. I saw Motörhead at this festival in Spain, and it was the first show after Lemmy had turned 60. They were amazing as they’d ever been. You’ve just got to decide what works for you. This just makes sense for me right now.
But actually, Nate Lawr from the Minotaurs and I are going to start a louder punk-rock band soon called The Mutation. We actually have a cover band called The Mutation in Guelph that plays garage rock covers for radio station fundraisers and stuff, but I think we’re going to start writing our own stuff and make a record. But that’s sometime down the road, because Nate’s about to become a dad too. A lot of dads out there; and we’re all trying to figure out how to make music as dads.
