Modern isn’t a word ordinarily used to describe Horse Feathers. The acoustic quartet plays slow-burning, minimalist folk that uses lyrics indebted to the Southern Gothic school of literature to craft albums inspired by seasons. (Thistled Spring, the group’s third and latest record, represented the titular season, while predecessor House With No Home was linked to winter.) Even the band’s name (a phrase meaning nonsense) is antiquated. However, Idaho-born guitarist-vocalist-frontman Justin Ringle contends that his band’s approach is more modern than you’d think—and that it’s also not folk. Before Horse Feathers visit the Fox Theatre on Friday, Dec. 10 and the Hi-Dive on Saturday, Dec. 11, with Y La Bamba and Bare Bones, he spoke to The A.V. Club about the real meaning of folk, going digital while staying analog, and how his adopted hometown affected his work.
The A.V. Club: You had family members who were in a string band and grew up around rock and country, but what specifically led you to the acoustic sound you use today?
Justin Ringle: I was familiar with [country and string band music], but I grew up listening to mostly indie rock from Seattle, Portland, and Olympia on Sub Pop, Kill Rock Stars, Up Records, and K Records. That was the most abundant and available stuff for me to see live as a teenager. I eventually tired of playing in rock bands when I was about 22. I started to dive into roots music—acoustic music in general—which I had enjoyed for a little while, but not intensely. I moved to Portland and didn’t have any resources to be in a band. The only way I could play was to play acoustic guitar in my apartment, which is where I wrote the first record.
AVC: In a past interview, you said that you’re interested in recontextualizing and updating old folk stylings in Horse Feathers. How exactly are you making folk more contemporary?
JR: For one thing, the classic tag that people want to use all the time is that it’s folk music, right? Well, it’s not really folk. It’s really pop music because there’s no tradition involved in it, except for little stylistic elements. It’s completely re-contextualized because it’s just almost [about] a mood and feel that has been cherry-picked from American music in general. I’m not interested in playing traditional music. I’m just interested in making new music. Simultaneously, I’m enamored with the effect that old music has, emotionally and aesthetically. The way it can evoke a nostalgic feeling is one of the most striking things about it.
AVC: What exactly negates that folkiness?
JR: The songs haven’t been passed down in any type of oral manner. “Yankee Doodle Dandy” is a true folk song because you don’t know who wrote it, and it’s been passed down from generation to generation, and the melody is one that everybody knows. People say “folk” all the time, but what they’re really trying to describe [is] that it’s acoustic-based. In 200 years, if somebody learns how to play a song by watching it on YouTube and then passes it down to somebody to the point where they couldn’t find that original clip, at that point it’d start to become folk music.