John Vanderslice has made many friends while plodding the terrain of the indie music scene. His 2011 album White Wilderness tacks another critically praised partnership on the map.
The austere, aptly titled LP, recorded with the classically trained Minna Choi and her Magik*Magik Orchestra — in just three days — offers a new twist on Vanderslice's talent for raw eloquence.
The singer-songwriter performs cuts from the new CD and a slew of others in his 12-odd-year-long discography this Friday at CL Space. Alexander and the Grapes open the show — and get to perform with Vanderslice on a couple of tunes, too.
During a recent interview with CL, Vanderslice shared that the collaboration with Choi's orchestra began in his inbox. "I got an email from her asking if I would consider having Magik*Magik as the house orchestra. It was an intensely audacious idea."
He consented to the project after seeing the group open for Jonny Greenwood of Radiohead. "I pulled them into the studio and did away with the overdubs, recording with a 35-piece live, in three days. … It's a process that's thrilling, feels more alive."
A quick background check on Vanderslice might have newcomers surprised by the numerous associations he's made over the years. He has hosted Death Cab for Cutie, Mike Watt, Deerhoof, Spoon and many others at his Tiny Telephone studio in San Francisco. Musicians have deferred to him for his "shaman-like knowledge of tone."
Vanderslice, 44, grew up in North Florida and spent a few years in Georgia and Maryland. He made the big move to San Francisco in the early '90s, where he got his start playing guitar, singing and writing lyrics for the experimental band MK Ultra (named for the infamous CIA covert operations that involved psychedelic drugs).
In his solo career, he's gone from electric to acoustic, sometimes layering both. His lyrics are like dramatic monologues, giving voice to a variety of characters on life, love, war and politics.
In conversation, Vanderslice is cheerful and laid-back, not at all the artiste one might come to expect from a multi-talented multi-instrumentalist. "One reason I'm so approachable," he explains, "is that I really don't like pretension — when people have different personas. I think if someone is going to have a different persona, they should go completely crazy and put on a show like Bowie, instead of being somewhat insecure and relying on affectation."
Vanderslice praised past tourmates the Mountain Goats for being exactly the same onstage and off. "They were really instructive for me," he said, "completely honest."
In keeping with keeping it real, Vanderslice said that he's forgoing the full-band stage show to perform solo on his current six-week tour. He said he also enjoys the newness of inviting guest players to come onstage. "I'll be bringing my 1952 Gibson J-45 and my Beyer microphone. I am solo, baby!" he says. "But I will have guest singers and players every night."
The recent expansion of Tiny Telephone has kept Vanderslice busy enough. He lamented having less time to spend with his wife, Isabelle, a preschool teacher, and his two cats, Miette and Clover. "My domestic life is more fragmented now," he said. "We used to cook every night at home. Now I'm scrambling all the time to make stuff work. I'm looking forward to when things mellow out."
Though perpetually productive, Vanderslice said he's lazy at heart. Sometimes he'd rather dork around on the Internet and has to force himself to work. He also said he feels like he's still very rooted in his Florida upbringing, speaking fondly of having grown up playing along the Suwannee River and visiting Cedar Key with his family. "Not coming from a big city has made me a more appreciative person," he said.
Vanderslice also vented a bit about his frustrations with the economy, in particular, the ridiculous cost of living in San Francisco. He said he wouldn't have moved to the city in 1991 if it were as expensive as it is today. "No way!" he said.
A couple of years ago, times were particularly tight for the singer-songwriter, but to his relief, he landed a high-profile, high-paying concert gig at the Microsoft campus in Washington. It was an interesting turn of events, considering that Vanderslice had once stirred up controversy for the company.
In 2000, Vanderslice jokingly told the press that Microsoft had attempted to sue him over his tune "Bill Gates Must Die" (on Mass Suicide Occult Figurines), a song written from the fictitious perspective of a maladjusted porn addict. At the time, Microsoft didn't contact him about the song — but right before the concert, the human resources department got wind of the infamous title and canceled the gig. "The whole thing came back to bite me," Vanderslice said with a laugh.
This article appears in Sep 1-7, 2011.