Q&A: Before St. Petersburg show, Kurt Vile talks loss, ‘Moon Beach,’ and more

Outside of birthdays and important family dates, Kurt Vile is not really one for anniversaries. When the 44-year-old gets to St. Petersburg’s Jannus Live, it’ll be pretty much a year to date since his good friend and recording partner Rob Laakso passed away from a rare cancer (Laakso was 44 years old, too).

“Rob’s always in my heart and in my band’s heart. I always think about his wife and his kids, more than I am thinking about the anniversary,” Vile told Creative Loafing Tampa Bay. “But I float on the periphery—it’s my survival method.”

He just keeps recording music, too. Vile’s latest is the Back To Moon Beach EP, released last year. Clocking in at just under an hour, the record features a few covers and some songs that didn’t make it to a 2022 LP, Watch My Moves—but mostly, it’s cuts that simply weren’t finished.

“They all had potential,” Vile explained. When his label, jazz imprint Verve Forecast, asked for EP, he relished the opportunity to revisit the tunes and adding to them until he and collaborators—including Cate Le Bon, “Farmer” Dave Scher, bandmate Adam Langelotti—landed a place that felt right. “They were challenging but also rewarding because we just overdubbed like crazy and kept overdubbing.”

Vile talked about the creation of the record,  the setlist in St. Pete, the late David Berman, and more. Read our full Q&A below.

Tickets to see Kurt Vile and the Violators play Jannus Live in St. Petersburg on Wednesday, May 8 are still available and start at $29.50. I haven’t talked to you in a while and I think last we talked your eldest was headed for first grade.

Oh, wow. First grade, homeschool, but I know I know what you mean. In fact, my oldest, tomorrow she’ll be 14.

That’s awesome. So this is kind of like a heavy, few weeks for you. You have the birthday, and then you have the death anniversary of Rob coming up next month.

I guess that was always in the back of my head, but I kind of space out with dates and anniversaries. I’m not much of an anniversary person, except for birthdays and family anniversaries. Different people in my life, we’ve lost, and I have to get reminded that it’s the anniversary of their death and such. I kind of float on the periphery as much as possible, but Rob’s always in my heart and in my band’s heart. I always think about his wife and his kids. I guess more it’s them I am thinking about than about the anniversary. I float on the periphery—it’s my survival method, you know,

I was reading that interview that you did with Black Francis and you talked about that Redondo Beach set and how it kind of healed you in a way. You talked about the fortunate nature of being able to play gigs and have a purpose. Mortality, it’s a thing, but we’re now both at this age where it’s starting to visit us. I assume that so much of what we feel and hear in your recordings is like this a result of the hang—whoever is in that room with you—and I’m wondering how hard it’s been to hang since you lost Rob. He was like the guy that got you into synths, you were friends since you were a teenager. He was your hero.

I mean, I’ve lost a lot of people in my life. We definitely miss Rob. When I said that in that interview, interviews are hard because they edit you. I said to Black Francis, in that moment in the concert, that it kind of healed it—it almost sounded like it healed it for good or something. But everything is just snapshots. I’ve known Rob for a long time. I’ll tell you, I lost even my young friend John Neumann as a kid. He was my best friend, and he was in my band and he died in his early-20s of cancer. So there’s a lot of parallels.

I got a family and I got all kinds of friends. What I think about is Rob’s family. I think about them a lot more than I think about myself. I think about what’s around me. I don’t like death anniversaries, to be honest. I think also in this Instagram culture, everybody’s like—everybody dies even when they’re old, and it does suck, I can’t believe that like everything is just like a constant eulogy. Because that’s just the way it is. It is crazy.

This one’s close to the bone, so it is a little hard to talk about to be honest.

Sorry to take it right here right away, this definitely wasn’t my plan. There is this line on “Tom Petty’s Gone” about David from Silver Jews. “To them that chose to leave…” That line, for what it’s worth, I feel like really channeled so much of that hurt that people felt into just a few seconds. It’s a devastating line to hear on the record, and it really crushes you when you read it on paper. But I thought it was a great tribute. And then you think about this body of work that David left, and this gigantic mark on music lovers that he had—do you ever think about your legacy, for lack of a better word?

Think about my legacy? I mean, I’m such a fan of all those Drag City bands. David was the most poetic, and his voice cut through effortlessly. Pavement was my favorite band growing up, but then here comes this guy, and “You’re like, wait, what? There’s another band that Stephen Malkmus plays in?” And here’s this other guy with this kind of coarse, but still kind of jagged guitar playing—but it’s still somewhat hypnotic. And his voice, he’s basically talking in this low timbre, and it cuts through so good, effortlessly, with hardly any musical technical musical ability. And I just love that about David.

To this day. I remember when I played Starlight Walker, “Trains Across the Sea,” after the intro when Steve Malkmus is also singing—David’s voice cuts through “Troubles, no troubles”—”Trains Across the Sea” is just perfect. All those people are my saviors—so many different artists. That’s why I make music. And I just keep doing it all the time. You know all the time.

Now I’m just churning it out from my house like I was in the old days—except for more high fidelity. It’s funny you mentioned “Tom Petty’s gone.” I’m totally re-recording a radio session because I didn’t like how it felt on the radio—but whatever. I know my family is a fan and I’m a fan of my music, so I guess it’s by default, without thinking, I’m making some kind of legacy. I’m just in the moment, and I get to look back at everybody else’s legacy, and that keeps me going with mine.

Sometimes I’m literally forced to pick up a guitar because the session is due, and then I’m like, “Oh, I’m glad I did that.” Sometimes it’s harder just to sit down and record unless you book it ahead of time, and get people to help you out. But then one day you’re like, “Oh fuck, I gotta record this myself because it’s due.”

Last time we talked I think you had just started moving into that West Mount Airy house. The studio, you didn’t want to tell me the name, but now we have a name: OKV Central. So it’s really cool to kind of reconnect you with you in that sense. Riffing off of that, you mentioned snapshots, that’s one of my favorite things about your music. When you listen to it, what we’re hearing is just snapshots of your mind like in that moment, and we know that about your stuff. I think last time we talked you were also still wrapping your head around your archive. You have backlogs, you have front logs, I think you still have them…

That’s still a serious dilemma. My archive is a serious dilemma, all my early stuff is on these digital eight-track, zip discs. I haven’t gone back. Any day now, I’m sure it’s going to be gone.

Well, if you didn’t do it during the pandemic, man, you might not ever get to it. Although it was good to know that you were able to reconnect with your family over the pandemic. And I know you kind of needed that time.

Yeah, I gotta, I gotta get in there. I’m gonna.

Let me ask you about Moon Beach. I know it’s not a hodge-podge, but now you have this record of songs that maybe didn’t have a home in the past. Kind of taking it back to Watch My Moves, I know “Wages Of Sin” is a big Springsteen track that didn’t have a home in that Born In the USA era—and I am not asking you to put your stuff in the same air as that song, although you can slay a person with a song, too—but outside of ‘Touched Somethin (Caught A Virus)’ which you had in the can before COVID, is there a song on Moon Beach that made you go, “Man, why did I not put that on the album?”

Honestly, no. “Touched Somethin (Caught A Virus)” was literally going to be on there. I really liked that song, but obviously I didn’t want people to think it’s about fucking COVID—I guess it was psychic, but it was recorded in October of 2019 just before shit hit the fan, so I had no idea.

The other ones, they just weren’t finished. They all had potential. Well, “Jesus On A Wire” was another song that did make Watch My Moves that was recorded at Stinson Beach with Cate Le Bon and Chris Cohen—two amazing modern artists. I just couldn’t believe people making such great modern music in our lifetime—when I discovered Chris Cohen I was like, ‘Holy shit’—so anyway, I went to work with them and Stella Mozgawa, who I work with all the time, Rob Laakso was involved for a chunk of those tracks.

just knew that it was time to get an EP. The label wanted an EP, and I knew there was stuff to go through. A few fell into the compilation category, but I just love how—the same with that Black Francis interview—I had booked recording sessions with Rob Schnapf right after that. Rob Laakso happened to die, then I played the show, then I went into the studio and we just overdubbed like crazy on those Stinson Beach tracks. That’s crazy, it’s wild. We got “Farmer” Dave Scher from Beachwood Sparks, my old friend; he laid down the best, like mournful, beautiful, spiritual lap steels and synths—all kinds of things on the fly. And then when I came home, even from there, I was just me and my bandmate Adam Langelotti overdubbing like crazy on those tracks: “Back to Moon Beach,” “Good Year For the Roses,” “Tom Petty’s Gone”—they were challenging but also rewarding because we just overdubbed like crazy and kept overdubbing. I guess I never had that. I would usually start basic tracks in a home studio and I never really got to do that thing where you take the tracks and then just keep going and going and stumble upon this thing—so that was rewarding in that way.

And again, it’s the deadline. It’s like, ‘Alright, we gotta get this EP in.” Then you’re like, “OK, this is my chance to go into these tracks again.” You don’t know what’s gonna happen. They’re pretty pretty psychedelic. A lot of guitars—a lot of things going on in there.

It’s crazy to hear you say Beachwood Sparks, thinking of Brent and Darren and The Tide, and all those bands—a lot of those records just all came flooding back to me. To stay on like this recording thing. You’re obviously a music obsessive person. Your music is made for obsessive listeners. You’ve co written with Kesha, gone through your Charli XCX phase thanks to your daughters.

Oh, that’s not a phase, man. That’s life. Charlie is our favorite.

The folklore around Charli is that she doesn’t even listen to music at home. Would you ever consider that approach?

I mean, she said that once or twice. She’s so super smart. And she’s kind of got the whole package. Maybe at home, she’s not listening to music because she said that on record at some point. But when it comes time, she’s working on her own music. She’s been quoted saying “I like my friends music,” clearly she’s got a lot of things on her mind to get that full concept going, which I fully respect. But I also know she loves Lou Reed. I know she does listen to music, whenever it is—she definitely absorbs plenty of music.

Speaking of that absorption. Thinking about how in songwriting everything is borrowed, and how whatever we’re obsessed with sometimes leaks into stuff we’re creating—is there anything you’ve been obsessed with lately that you can hear manifesting itself in new songs or in the live setting?

I mean, sure, I would say anything new I’m obsessed with does bleed into my music. And it’s also so new that I couldn’t even tell you because I don’t want you to know what to look for in my new music.

I like that you always have secrets, man. And you straight up tell people, like, “Listen, man, I’m just I’m just not going to tell you.”

It’s funny because whatever my latest secret weapons are—be it gear, or new artists I’m obsessed with—I often share if I’m obsessed with an artist, but when they’re my main thing, I keep them secret for a long time. I’m definitely thinking about gear.

Oh, well gear’s different because you don’t want people to necessarily have like the gear you have

Of course.

And you never want to tell him how to use it, that’s like deep friend secret handshake stuff.

I see people do it. People like to talk about what they did ,and I just can’t wrap my head around it. I’m like, “Wow.” I got this very specific thing going. I’m older now, so there’s all these younger, you know, more handsome, kids stealing my stuff.

https://youtube.com/watch?v=Q3YBnjeKpd8

Nah. Now that you’re sober and you take care of yourself and you got your sister’s hair care routine,you’re totally locked in. You’re gonna be in GQ any day. Let’s stay on some of that technical stuff since you’re talking about that. Sorry, but this is going to be kind of a long question. I think you’re bringing the banjo on tour, and you’ve talked about the country guys how they can play circles around rock and rollers, make them look like posers. I just saw Billy Strings, and he played guitar in the shows, but that band is wild.

Your playing has been described as virtuoustic, but I am curious about things that you can’t do on guitar, that you wish you could. There are no rules in songwriting, possibilities are endless, and the older we get the less we wring our hands about it, but what are some of those kinds of things? Are they things no one’s figured out yet, or things that you’re hearing other people do? Do you still practice a lot in the traditional sense?

Shit. I got this basic rule: don’t force it, but then I pick up a guitar, sometimes I’m forced to, and I’m glad I did. I’ve been playing guitar for so long, then other times I go over to a keyboard—I have minimum knowledge of that, and I write simple songs.

It’s interesting because sometimes I feel cocky, like, “I’m effortless, I got these skills,” and then I see other bands that are super professional and they kind of deliver every night, or they’re 20 times as popular. I’m influenced by Springsteen—but I get drawn to his melancholy, sort of dark songs, I seem to cover those. Whereas Springsteen as The Boss, he he’s on every night. I’m not good at just being that—unless it’s sort of raw. In my live shows, I’m pretty much stoked because I finally can go into that place where I’m one with myself, in the moment.

But as far as putting on a huge show, huge production, or playing on TV—I still aimed to really slay TV like Nirvana, or Neil Young when he played “Rockin’ In the Free World,” but I feel like I have yet to truly slay TV. We did play a pretty great “Mount Airy Hill” on Stephen Colbert. Then they requested I play “How Lucky,” and they say that Colbert had a tear in his eyes. Sometimes I’ll slay TV, but I do sometimes get deer in the headlights when it’s go-time in a production.

You’re kind of hitting on the show. And I kind of want to ask you about that because I know we’re getting short on time—you did like 11 shows in March and I’m wondering how those played into where you’re at now as far as what you’re going to do at Psych Fest and in the South coming up. Thinking about seeing Billy Strings, I’m guessing you guys will play ‘Tom Petty’s Gone (But Tell Him I Asked For Him)’ in Florida to great applause, but Billy last Friday kicked off his show with Bill Monroe’s “My Florida Sunshine.” You’re a deep cut person, and I know that outside of “Pretty Pimpin’” all your stuff is a deep cut, but do you have any traditionals or really far out stuff that you might break out for Florida? Maybe just the alligator mask from Watch My Moves?

Well, we always bring that alligator mask. He’s on the mannequin. He lives on the road with us. Man, we got a good mix right now. We’ll see what I roll out on the fly, but we have been playing a good amount from the EP, and just going back to the beginning of the career, too. We’re mixing it up more than ever. And we have played “Wages of Sin” on the previous tour, so we’re playing all kinds of deep cuts.

Thinking about that banjo, which you are bringing on this tour. I think your dad Charlie Vile—salt of the earth according to John Prine—played lots of old time music growing up, bluegrass. Does playing the banjo take you back to your time with him?

I see my parents all the time. Sure it takes me back, but we hang out. I like that I can see my childhood when I play the banjo, and I can also channel folk music, and I have my own sort of style on the banjo—but it’s still that hypnotic, ethereal, high G drone string. You can really get lost in that. You can see your whole childhood, I can see my dad, or I could just go visit him whenever.

By the way, your kids. I know your kids are on your record. They’re their musicians. Do they like your music? Outside of Charli XCX, do they love your records, or do they like other stuff a lot more?

Oh, they’re fans of me, and we listen to Charli XCX; I turned them on to her, we listen to her in the car. We covered that Charli song, and I was definitely nervous. I couldn’t have done it without my kids. I wanted to involve them anyway, but once they sang on it, it was perfect.

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This article appears in Apr 25 – May 1, 2024.