German Abstract Expressionism Consumes Folk Hero Max Larkin

Max Larkin is a twenty year old folk musician whose first and latest album, The Relations, is premiering this year. He has granted the Howler the distinguished honor of an exclusive interview in preparation for its release. His MySpace page, which includes a number of tracks from the album, can be found here. If you’re interested in obtaining a copy of the album, you can contact Max through MySpace or shoot him an e-mail at maxlarkintunes@gmail.com.

“Westward Forging,” one of the title songs on The Relations, can be listened to in full below:

What was the first album you ever bought?

TLC’s crazysexycool.

The one with the floating heads?

Right, the red one.

What was the first album you ever stole?

Well, when I was about six or so, I stole some M&Ms from Blockbuster because I always wanted to get them, but my mom would never let me, and then I busted them out in the car on the way home. My mom caught me and took me back and the Blockbuster managed talk to me about why stealing is bad. So I never stole an album, is the point of the story.

So this was sort of a formative experience in your childhood psychological development. Would you say it crucially shaped the direction of your lyrics?

Oh yes, I was young and impressionable, and it certainly might have.

An attempt to give back M&Ms so to speak?

You can definitely read into it like that.

What album have you played so frequently that you can’t listen to it anymore?

Dark Side of the Moon. Well, it’s only partly because I’ve played it so much. It kinda became such a holy album, that I couldn’t just listen to it. There had to always be a reason. The mood had to be just right and I had to be alone. And then after a while, no situation was good enough for the album.

What artist or musician were you thinking about the least when you composed The Relations?

Probably Hans Hofmann.

What prose and poetry writers influenced your songwriting?

Billy Collins, Gary Snyder, Shakespeare’s sonnets, Milan Kundera, and probably Vonnegut, too.

Where’d your band come from?

Chicago. The album is just me and David Johnson. He has a band called Favorite Saints. We recorded it in his studio. Just about everything on the album, save the violin on “Westward Forging” and the female vocal on “Dancing in the Dark Blues” is either me or him.

How’d you meet him?

I found him, so to speak. I was looking for a place to record and he had one, so that’s how it happened.

What’s your favorite track?

I’m pretty content with a few of the tracks. I think “End of the Line” came out well. We recorded that one at a barn party in Salem, IL.

A barn party?

Yeah, it’s a party. In a barn.

Was the song “Westward Forging” in any way inspired by the presidency of James Polk?

In a way it was. It’s really about all those blonde sun-kissed kids and how their ancestors just kinda ripped the land away from the natives, and now it’s their home. But I mean, it’s my home, too. So the question is, do I feel guilty saying that?

You’re from California originally?

Yeah. Born and raised.

Can you tell us more about yourself… all of the dirty details?

I definitely have mixed feelings about my writings being taught in high schools. Although, I know one of my professor’s freshman year uses an essay I wrote as an example.

What was it about?

It was about The Phantom of the Opera becoming the longest running musical in broadway history, for a class on the New Yorker magazine. We had to write our own “Talk of the Town” piece.

Was that essay written at 6 in the morning and aided by a bottle of Jim Beam, perchance?

All my essays were that way. But I think the one you’re referring to was about Robert F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr., and how their speeches inspired young people.

Are any of your songs written this way?

I find when I am in a rut and need to write because nothing has come to me, I usually settle down with some whiskey late at night and try to hammer something out. I say to myself, “Okay, this song is gonna suck, but you haven’t written in a while and you need to.” That’s how “Early Summer Night” came about.

One of the notes I wrote about the album was that it was devoid of cities and seemed apart from the east coast. Can you elaborate on that at all?

That’s an interesting point, I hadn’t really thought about that.

You took a year off of college to prepare yourself for… the album or maybe something else? What was that all about?

Yeah, I wasn’t enjoying life at American University, so I took this year off. I’ve been living in Chicago. At the beginning of April I’m going backpacking from Japan to India.

An “Eastward Forging”?

I’ve thought of that, the “Eastward Forging” thing. I’m kinda starting in the ultimate east, and heading west. We’ll see what happens. I’ll be maintaing a blog, too.

I read an interview with Leonard Cohen where he spoke of a conversation he had with Bob Dylan.

That must’ve been one hell of a conversation.

He mentioned in passing that it had taken him four years to write “Hallelujah,” which made Dylan fall off of his chair. And Cohen asked him how long it took him to write “I and I,” to which he responded, ‘fifteen minutes.’ So the question here is, how much revision and work goes into your songs? Is it about the same for each song?

That’s a good question. Basically, some people have it and some people don’t. You can tell when you’re listening to Dylan that he’s just operating in his literary realm where everything is at his fingertips. There’s kinda this rolodex where you plug in how you feel and the right words come up.

But would you argue that Cohen didn’t have “it”?

Cohen is incredible, but I’m not positive he had that. Well, he may have.

It’s scary to think that if you had the right fifteen minutes you might be able to write “I and I” and maybe you don’t have a pen.

Quite.

So here’s an easy column question: What are your musical influences, from current to classic, obscure to top 40?

John Hartford. He was a folkie. Greatest folkie ever, I believe. His album Aereo-Plain is one of the best ever. Mark Knopfler, too. He’s just a master of control and it’s hugely impressive. My father’s songwriting has been a big influence on my own. And of course, The Beatles and Jackson Browne.

Okay, so your dad is a songwriter, too. Do you try to write like him, differently than him, or do you try not to think about it?

I think I came with this style innately. He was always sorta singing these little ditties around the house all my childhood about anything and nothing. There was a little song he’d sing when my brothers and I were little and he’d shampoo our hair in the bathtub, for example.

How’d it go?

I love to wash my hair / over here and over there / when you’re wearing no underwear / I love to wash my hair. So there were tons of little songs like that. My brothers and I came to call it the “suburban songbook.”

Do you put on a particular voice when you sing? For example, Mick Jagger usually sang in an American accent.

Well, Mick Jagger is the devil, because I believe in american pie.

What does that make Keith Richards?

Hell’s Angel.

Max, assuming you’ve heard of Advanced Theory, has it had any real influence on your music at all? Would you consider yourself either Advanced or Overt, or perhaps neither?

I don’t know much about this advanced theory, care to explain?

You should watch this and read this. I wonder if Rolling Stone asks Kanye West about obscure internet theories and then has him research them. Interviewees have had it easy for way too long.

I don’t really see myself too overt, but it seems like I’ll never be advanced without being overt first. I’m appreciating this, and I think Sickboy is right. I think the poet gets a decade.

If he’s lucky.

Yeah. Well, the poet gets a decade, but he could fuck it up during that decade. He could be blocking his entry to access “it.” It’s there, but he can’t get it. After that decade, it’s not there. It’s gone. Moved to someone else.

Do you see a difference between poetry and songwriting?

The best songwriting is poetry.

What’s a good example?

The best songs can be printed next to the best poems in textbooks. “Desolation Row,” for example. Aside from being a great song, it’s also a great poem.

Was there a concept behind your latest album? Is it a collection of songs or is there a unifying theme(s)?

There’s a loose concept. All the songs deal with people interacting with one another, and how they relate.

Could you talk about the title. The Relations, in case you forgot.

It’s not a great title, but it suffices and covers every song, as they are all about how people relate. The collection became the relations.

Can you say anything about where you think your music is headed, what we might be seeing in the future, and perhaps maybe present or future performance dates?

Well, I just played a few shows in California.

How did that go?

Pretty interesting. Fun on the whole.

What’s your live setup?

A Dean Markley acoustic pickup clamped on my guitar.

So it’s just you, no backup? Did you have to change the songs at all?

Not really, it isn’t as filled out, which is a bummer. I’d play with a band, but I don’t have one, though I’m not anti.

If you had a band, what would you call it?

George Carlin had a book in which there was a part called “Punk Bands I’ve Known.” I liked “The Sewer Transaction.”

I like it. It makes me think of shit. It might also help you get overt.

Yeah, then I could be on my way to getting advanced.

Well, I’m out of questions.

And I’m pretty hungry, too.

Bless us O Lord, for this interview which we just received. Amen.

Werd.