The Times Interview (October
1997)
Nigel Williamson finds
Loudon Wainwright III a man still obsessed
with himself
Will the real Loudon Wainwright
III stand up? Is this the unflinchingly naked autobiographical
writer who upsets his family, or the comic, red-nosed creator
of funny songs?
Natural-born performer
 A lot of people keep private
diaries. Loudon Wainwright III makes albums about his most personal
experiences, and almost nothing is considered too intimate. He
is the Alan Clark of the songwriting world, and he admits that
not everyone appreciates his going public.
"Certain family members,
ex-wives and children have bridled at or been angered by some
of the songs," he says. "But I try to be truthful.
I look at what I write and ask, is this true or is it gratuitous?
There is a craft in songwriting that maybe causes you to exaggerate,
but art works best when it's honest."
Honesty with Wainwright seems
to be a compulsion. His new album Little
Ship is the third in a trilogy of what are, in effect,
private musical diaries, an approach which has revived interest
in an erratic career which now spans almost 30 years and 16 albums.
The latest effort charts a recently fractured relationship with
his usual mix of wry observation, painful self-examination, heavy
irony, indulgent silliness and the occasional profundity.
His last album, Grown Man,
was a self-confessional effort about hitting the age of 50, while
History, the album before that, was a family chronicle
that made the listener feel positively voyeuristic.
"I'm an exhibitionist or
a masochist. The rule of writing is to write about what
you know, and I'm obsessed with myself. It's not necessarily
a good thing but that's what I do. I get off on showing the
warts. I am self-absorbed, but I'm so interesting to me
anyway. Some people find it irritating. The artful
thing is to take that self-absorption and fashion it into a three-minute
song that can engage other people."
Yet there are at least two Loudon
Wainwrights. If one is the unflinchingly naked autobiographical
writer, the other is the comic, red-nosed performer who ever
since the novelty song Dead Skunk in 1972 still his only hit
single has enjoyed a reputation as one of the best humorous songwriters
since the days of Tom Lehrer. Despite its serious subject-matter
there is once again a rich vein of comedy running through his
new album, and I ask him if he sometimes uses the humour as a
self-defence to prevent facing up to awkward feelings.
"You don't think, let's
add some more irony here, when you're writing a song. The
low humour I use is just part of my style. But Freud said
the joke is a way of allowing the unconscious to talk safely
about horrible things. That's why you explode with laughter,
because you've touched something deep.
"Since I am writing about
sensitive subjects the humour can leaven it and make it less
dreary. There was a time when I went overboard on the sarcasm
and irony. I got a reputation as someone who could make
an
audience laugh and I allowed that to take over. And, yes,
maybe I did
use it as a way not to open up."
Wainwright, who trained as an
actor, has always had a loyal following in Britain, particularly
for his live shows. "I'm a natural performer. When
I was seven I discovered that I liked showing off. When
there's 2,000 people in the dark watching and the lights are
all on you, I find that delightful," he says.
In the early part of his career,
along with Bruce Springsteen, Jesse Winchester and various other
long-forgotten singer-songwriters, he
competed for the tag "the new Dylan". It was
a silly tag which he is still having to deal with a quarter of
a century later, even though his style has never remotely resembled
the great man's. "We use the same chords," he
remarks caustically. "My songs have always been very
specific, nothing cryptic, very little allegory. Dylan's
songs are mysterious and strange and fabulous. I'm much more
mundane."
As part of a large group of pop
performers still making music in their fifties, Wainwright is
also different in that he is one of the few confident enough
to tackle the subject of ageing. "I've always written
about what is happening, and one of the things that is going
on is that I'm getting older. It's horrible but it's so
interesting to write about. To pretend that it isn't happening
would seem very strange. I was watching the Rolling Stones
launch their new tour and they have to present this image of
swaggering around. It must be very tiring for them."
Surprisingly Wainwright has seldom
turned his acid powers of observation on the political world,
although he does sometimes perform topical songs on American
National Public Radio. "It's easy to attack Newt Gingrich
or make fun of Bill Clinton, it's like musical journalism. But
I never was a radical. I grew my hair and smoked dope and
sat around but I was much too self-absorbed to be political.
I didn't march or protest although I did dodge the draft.
I've always been more concerned with the politics of me."
Writing, he says, is like fishing.
"You're sitting out there in the boat for hours but
when you've got one it doesn't take long to land it. I'm
fishing all the time but I can go long periods with nothing,
then a batch of them comes along." He looks forward
to the day when he is eclipsed by the success of two of his children,
Rufus and Martha, now recording artists in their own right.
"I've brought them on in
my own shows but they're so talented to make
that dangerous. I'm hoping they're going to be very successful
and buy
me a house someday soon. Until then I'll just carry on
sitting in the boat."
|
The Times Interview (October
1997) |
|
