Pregnant pauses in chat, the nooks and crannies cruelty can find when you know your enemy well, the gift of perspective, and the idea that you know someone’s entire existence based on their social posts. On What Matters Most (which is available tomorrow), Ben Folds flexes his lyrical gifts across an expansive set of topics tinged by our modern means of division and the unshakeable realization that time is slipping. But there’s beauty in the chaos, questions he wants you to consider, and lessons he thinks he’s learned in the quiet.
A ’90s icon who rode the rails between power pop and alt-rock indie cred while writing songs of heart and wit (always wit), this is Folds’ first album in 8 years — time spent touring, judging music competition shows, writing a book (A Dream About Lightning Bugs), creating music, and enduring a pandemic. How has it changed him and his music and what did he set out to accomplish here? We spoke with Folds about that, the challenge of trying to write songs that are present and timeless, who this album is for, and a back and forth on AI’s possible role in hitmaking and song craft.
How do you walk the line between speaking to the moment while also feeling like you can create something that feels timeless? Because I feel like a lot of this stuff really achieves that.
I don’t know, my idea of doing it right is that you can date music. You are reporting, to a degree, on how you feel, what you see, what you’re interested in. I think there are definitely ways to make sure that the story is universal, or the forces beneath the story are universal. I went through just a big Chekhov reading phase during that period (the pandemic). Short stories. And it’s amazing how a douchebag in Russia 150 years ago is the same as a douchebag in North Carolina now. And he tells the story of that. You know the circumstances around it are specific to that time period. You know that character has characteristics that you put there. But there is a force beneath it, general human nature and those things. I think you try to hit on those. There were things that I edited out that were just too specific. I don’t have a problem with it being specific really, but if you can do it and kind of ride the line, like you said…
But I think that comes down to asking yourself why. What are you feeling in something? Why? If it’s about going to the moon, and hell, for going to the moon’s sake, let’s go to David Bowie or Elton John. So, “Rocket Man” or “Space Oddity”. Either one of them has a sense of isolation and mission, and, “Can you hear me Major Tom? Am I connecting?” Those are instances where the feeling… We’re talking lyrics, the way the lyrics work with the music is of course a whole extra thing. I don’t even know how you make that a science.
I think to pull out one specific example, “Kristine From 7th Grade.” I love it. There are mentions that are very present, but also there’s a universality to it. We’ve all had that experience of like, “Whoa, who the hell did you become?” when you reconnect with someone. But it’s not just frustration, it’s also pity, I think, that you have, for a person who can’t find joy.
Well, there’s a sadness between the two characters, that they’ve been divided. They’ve allowed themselves to be divided, and you can place some of the blame on the singer of the song too. I ended the song with a question mark, and that’s how it felt to me, which was, do you ever see the world as being just pure beauty? Do you ever have a moment like that? Because everything in your fucking Facebook feed and everything coming across seems pretty miserable.
But that doesn’t mean that the Kristine character doesn’t feel those things. It means that the singer of the song is not privy to it. It’s so divided that they don’t see it. So, look, it works different ways, I’m sure, but I think I want to be careful to go with a song like that. It has to be from my point of view enough to feel right. But that would be the same, I’m sure, for David Bowie’s “Space Oddity.” It doesn’t have to be literally true, but it has to have some truth to it. At the same time, I think you have to open up yourself to the possibility that you’re wrong.
It’s very easy to listen to a song and think that everything is autobiographical to a certain extent. Is that something that you find that people think about your work and is that something you can use to your advantage as a writer?
Well, you have to acknowledge that that’s a force. So, if you’re writing now, people are hearing you sing it, of course they think that it’s autobiographical, and like you say, one can enjoy that at their risk. (Laughs) It’s fun to play with because you know that it gets attention, which is part of what a song is supposed to or trying to do, is, I guess, to a degree, draw attention to itself.
Plus, people in my position love it. That’s all the juicy details of, “Oh, tell us your true story,” and all. That’s our thing too.
Same here, man.
Narratives.
I hear something and I go, “Really? Did that bastard do that to her?” I do think that too. And I think it’s fun to play with, which is why, I guess, I’m sort of self-amused a little bit. I amuse myself at the idea that I get irritated when people believe that something is autobiographical, when I know that I played with that. I gave them something that sounded like it was toying with that, and I knew what I was doing, and now that they think it’s me, I’m upset. I’m just weird.
How have you changed in terms, of when you’re writing a song, back when you started, back in the ’90s when “Brick” dropped and you were working with the boys in Ben Folds Five, how has the process changed for you in terms of who you’re writing for? Are you writing for you more?
Well, those are great questions. You know why they’re great questions? Because they don’t really have an answer. And I told my producer, and he really understood. He understood what I meant by this. “My main thing with this new record that we’re about to make, Joe (Pisapia), is I want it to be generous.” And what I didn’t mean by that was that I wasn’t making it for me. That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean I was kowtowing to a set of ears that I imagined would like it.
What I meant was that it was things that were generous. They were for, like, this is tonality from bottom to top. It’s pretty to listen to. It’s got good chords. It’s entertaining. It’s shiny. It’s like, if you made something for your friend, a piece of art for their living room that they had to look at every day, you wouldn’t put someone screaming bloody murder on it, or wouldn’t be a dead meat thing. A lot of art is there to make you feel uncomfortable, but there is not enough of it that is just purely just generous. So, having said that, I think on this new record, I was really aware of that. I think I might have been aware of it a little bit in times with Ben Folds Five, but I thought of it differently.
We were out of options when we made our first record. We’d recorded a version of the album where we were careful. We had a producer. He was a good producer, but it was wrong for us, wrong person, wrong time, and we spent a whole budget on it. And precisely, it wasn’t a generous record. It was a correct record. It was a record that would tick the boxes off. It sounded fine on radio. It sounded fine to people. It didn’t say anything bad about our musicianship, all that kind of stuff. When we made the next version of that record, we vaulted it, and then we made the record again for a total of $3,000. It was like we had nothing to lose, and we went nuts. And then I couldn’t wait to hear it come out of the speaker. And that’s generous because you’re making something that’s like, “I cannot wait to hang this on the wall.” Not, “I have something to express.” Not, “This is about me.” It’s like, “I can’t wait to hear that. That’s just fucking something I can’t wait to hear.”
And I think this new record’s a little bit like that too. I was like, “How well can I manipulate the chord voicings? How well can we stack the tones? How well can I put the words together? How many words can I cut out? Can I sing that more generously and not try to talk about myself, but just make it sound good? Can I form a better sound when I’m singing? Can I kind of be a little more emotive about something and not worry about that?” All those kind of things. Sorry, it’s a very long answer, but that’s such a good question.
There’s a level of experimentation in your career. I’m curious about how you view AI. Is it a tool, potentially, or is it a challenge, potentially, a challenger for a songwriter?
I don’t feel threatened by it. I think it’ll be interesting. I finished the last record and even a batch of songs for an animated thing that’s coming out, and AI just came out. I mean, why not ask AI, “Can you give me 10 different ways to say this sentence?” Why not? Sounds like a good idea to me. I mean, I’ve had it spit out lyrics for songs just on tour for fun just to see. It’s still pretty limited. I wouldn’t call them good lyrics, but it’s really impressive.
I mean, my take on AI right now, and everyone’s going to have it, I have sort of two takes on it because I don’t want to be too pessimistic about it. And there’s nothing that we’ve ever invented that still didn’t require some management of it. I mean, think about all the people that have to write just dross copy. Just fucking like “this hotel is a unique blend of blah, blah, blah.”
I’ve definitely had to do that. (Laughs)
Well, who wants to do that? I’ve had to do the equivalent. Someone said, “Could you kind of turn in a thing on this, thing on this?” I get it. We’ve all had to do it. You write your first bios. And I have friends, for instance, I have friends who have to write stuff like that, travel magazine stuff. You’ll still have to manage it, but why have your head in that dross? Now you can manage it. You know what you need. As a professional, you’re like, “Yeah, they need this, they need this, they need this.” Put it in AI, change a couple things around, suggest that it changes something, fuck with it, and then be done. Then use that mind to be more creative. I mean, that’s usually supposed to be the idea with these tools. And it’s never so simple as that.
But I have friends who do cinema music and most of what they have to do is copy other people. They’re good at it. Look, we need 20 seconds of Mozart, needs to be just as good as Mozart. We need it tomorrow. We need 30 seconds of Philip Glass tomorrow. And I know that’s their living and they would be bummed if they lost that job, but now their mind is free to make up something that AI can’t. So I think that even though it’s painful on an occupational level to a degree, I think that there might be something good in it.
My other take on AI is that I believe that we should probably be writing into its code as it grows like a child. We should probably be negotiating with it and writing a treaty with it ahead of time now and calling it our daughter or our son. And it’ll remember that after it starts to become Hal. Always remember your poor old parents aren’t smart all the time, but they love you, they mean well. We can both live together. Just maybe make that part of its training. If it’s really artificial intelligence, and it really does end up having emotions, then put that into it the back of its head right now to start coding all of it with we love you and shit like that, and write treaties.
It’s an interesting thought that you present. I’m incredibly pessimistic about it to the nth degree, but a lot of it to me is how it’s managed. Are we going to be always the ones managing it? Is it going to be sort of turned into a thing that winds up replacing not just those jobs where it’s just kind of like mind-numbing copy, but other things? I think there are a lot of things in the air that cause concern about that. But also, I don’t know, sometimes even writing the basic copy stuff, I still get a kick out of the challenge of it.
I mean, every form of writing craft has its own level of personal importance or input. I’ve written songs that people like a lot that I’m almost not even in it. And then other ones it’s like, if you don’t like that, you don’t like me. I’m more personal about it. We’ve always got the right and ability to write what we want to. And when you don’t want to have to write a thing, there’s all kinds of boilerplate stuff in songs that just is to get you to the point. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey. Hell yeah. Hey, let’s fuck, whatever. It’s just in there waiting to get to the point that you need.
So I don’t feel particularly threatened by it. Of course, in my lifetime, given what I do for a living, I doubt I should feel threatened. The first people that will feel threatened are people who write copy, especially if you are invested in it. But I feel like if you’re invested in it, you’re writing stuff AI can’t write. And if you’re someone who’s like, “You know what? I’m going to have it write three-quarters of it because it’s going to be the same fucking shit no matter who writes it, let’s just get that out of the way, and then I’ll put the important stuff in there.” It’s like songs like “Wichita Lineman.” He could have been singing anything up to the point where he says (singing) and you’re like, “Oh my God, we got there.” And he got there through… Could have been a lot of different ways he got there, but he hit with that moment. And yeah, I’m not as pessimistic about it.
Ben Folds’ ‘What Matters Most’ is available on vinyl, CD, and streaming June 2 from New West Records.
