Contrary to what some may think, Jason Isbell was not born in the fall of 2001. That might have been when he first caught the music world’s ear as a member of the Drive-By Truckers, but the man performed his first a cappella vocal as a newborn on February 1, 1979.
The Trucker years and all that went with them were without question an important chapter in Isbell’s life – and he has nothing but good to say about his former bandmates, whom he parted working ways with in 2007. But there really is a whole lot more to Jason Isbell than being a “former Drive-By Trucker,” as proven by Here We Rest, the latest release from Isbell and his band, the 400 Unit.
And while we’re clearing up misconceptions, here’s another one concerning the 400 Unit, consisting of Browan Lollar (guitar), Derry deBorja (keys), Jimbo Hart (bass), and Chad Gamble (drums): the band’s name is not some sort of a military reference – a tribute to a company of brave soldiers, for instance. That would be an easy assumption to make, as Isbell has written some exceptional songs that capture the heart and soul of our veterans. (We’ll talk more about that later.)
The fact of the matter is, the inspiration for the 400 Unit’s name came from a ward at a local nervous hospital in Alabama. Isbell’s experience with some of the 400 Unit’s patients out for a few hours in the institution’s van definitely hit home with his own on-the-road life as a working musician. Says Isbell, “Seeing those folks reminded me so much of a band: they were in this place, all confused, and just looked like they didn’t belong. All they wanted was just to get something to eat, you know? I’d felt that feeling so many times, crawling out of the van in some random town at 1 or 2 o’clock in the afternoon … trying to find some food, scaring all the locals, and knowing that you didn’t fit in.”
That’s Jason Isbell: an observer with a good ear; a humorist with a twist; a chain-smoking pool shooter with a good heart and appreciation for a well-crafted sentence. And above all else, Isbell’s a soul man, born and raised on the vibes of Muscle Shoals.
Jambands.com recently had the opportunity to talk with Isbell about life, words, music, and a great liquor store to hit if you’re ever in Alabama on a Sunday.
Here in his own words is Jason Isbell.
Early music and non-guilty pleasures:
It seems like there was always music in my life. I guess I was so young that I really can’t say whether it was a mandolin, banjo, or guitar that I first tried to learn how to play. I never considered it as an occupation until I got older …. playing was just something you did everyday, like feeding the chickens or something.
I had an opportunity at 11 or 12 to play in a local band. That’s when I really started getting into rock records from the 70s and what was on the radio in the 80s. I loved Prince and Crowded House and ‘Til Tuesday … I just loved that 80’s pop, man. I saw Crowded House in Australia last year and I was just jumping up and down and videotaping with my phone like your typical kid at a concert. It was great.
I still look back at that stuff and feel like it holds up really well … I really do. I think a lot of that music is incredible.
High school and bars:
The first times I actually played in public were here at home in high school. I played in country bands and cover bands; that kind of thing. My best friend Chris Tompkins – he’s a songwriter in Nashville now – got me into my first band. They were trying to hire a keyboard player and Chris told them that he wouldn’t be in the band unless they hired me, too. He made it so they had to drag me along.
We played a lot of shows in bars: they’d rope off a corner of the bar where we could play and not drink, you know? We actually played at the Opry in Nashville once … played some talent contests and stuff like that. We got beat out of one contest by John Paul White from The Civil Wars. I still remember that … I don’t mind it much at all now, but it really pissed me off when I was 16. (laughs)
The Muscle Shoals influence:
I’m still not sure exactly what Muscle Shoals meant to me growing up. I hope I’m continuously surprised by how much people care about the music that comes from this place.
I guess I was 17 or 18 years old when I first started running into some of the folks who had made some of that great Muscle Shoals music. They would come out to bar gigs to see us play and we’d have a chance to talk with them. They were all really sweet people.
It’s not like they’d say “Oh, I wrote this song” or “I played on this song” – nothing like that. It wasn’t until after getting to know them that I went back and started looking at what they’d done. It amazed me that they were as humble and as generous as they were – all of them.
I always think of Patterson’s dad, David Hood, when I’m talking about those guys. David always acted like a family member to me – even before Patterson and I played together; even before I met Patterson. David was really a mentor as far as those things went. I don’t know if he felt some sort of a kinship or he’s just that nice of a guy … I really don’t know. He was always really great.
I really think that everybody in town wants the music from here to be as good as it can be. It’s not a fluke that it all came together the way it did.
I think about the way those guys would reach out to us when we were playing in bars and try to help us. That’s not their job … I mean, they’re trying to get work and keep themselves busy, too. But that’s what they did for me.
Mr. Isbell, English teacher:
After high school, I went to college in Memphis and lived there for a few years. I really started focusing on writing songs at that point. I didn’t play out much at all – I really just woodshedded and focused on reading as much and writing as much as I could.
I took creative writing with the idea of writing songs. It was either that or a music degree. I had some decent music theory and I could sight-read. I learned to play trumpet and French horn in high school and played in college for a while, too.
But I’d gotten an academic scholarship and I really didn’t want to focus all my time on music – what I felt I lacked the most was the ability to write really precisely. I also just wanted to read as much as possible at that point in time, so I’d get a lot of good suggestions from friends at school.
I guess I could’ve been an English teacher, but … I don’t think it would’ve made me happy. (laughs)
Words and self-realizations:
I did a lot of the writing for Here We Rest last year while we took a break from the road. I had a backlog of songs that I’d written, but I try really hard to stay emotionally current. I’m not going to go back and use something that I wrote years ago for an album that I’m trying to make now.
I think it’s a positive thing to be home, although I do crave the road sometimes … that’s just sort of how I’m made. But yeah – it was a good period to rehabilitate and recuperate for the band and myself. And I think we got some good material out of it.
I feel like I’m getting to a point where I’m writing more of what I want to hear. I don’t know if it’s a good thing creatively or not, but I don’t care because I like it … it’s fun to write songs that you enjoy listening to. Not that I don’t still love some of the stuff that I wrote five or ten years ago, it’s just that now I’m getting closer to what my tastes are – and I think that’s just starting to show in my writing.
I know instantly if I’m reading Cormac McCarthy or Barry Hannah and I come across a sentence that’s absolutely perfect. I just know it; I know it in my heart. I think subconsciously I‘ve been trying to work on recreating that knowledge of something being as good as it could be. If nothing else, maybe my self-editing process is getting a little bit better.
Add to that – and this is strange; I don’t know how it happened – I feel like I’m able to listen to a piece of music that was recorded with a detached ear now. I’m learning how to listen to my music without being the person who created it. I know that’s odd – but I don’t know how that happened. I’ve actually wanted to be able to do that for a long time. But when you listen as the creator of something, you listen to individual details really specifically.
Now I can listen to a song that we’ve cut or an album that we’ve cut and I can hear it like someone who’s hearing it for the first time. I don’t know if that’s a good thing either, but I’m enjoying it.
I think all of these changes have helped me – I feel like this album is the best thing I’ve ever done.
Jason Isbell, author?
I’ve done a lot of regular writing, but there’s nothing that I’d want released to the public just yet. There’ll come a time when I’ll feel strong enough to do that. It’s got to be something that I really believe in … I feel like my reading tastes are pretty specific, so my writing tastes should be the same way.
I do have plans, though … I have a lot of beginnings. (laughs)
There are some really great American writers out there right now. I don’t want to throw something into the pot until I’m sure that it’s quality.
Plus, there are a lot of good songwriters who turn out to be bad fiction writers … and I don’t want to be one of those. (laughs) There are a couple of guys who can pull it off: Steve Earle’s one – Willy Vlautin is another. But there are a lot of songwriters who say, “Man – I wrote a cool song; I can write a book.” And it’s just not anywhere near the same process … it really isn’t.
Recording with the 400 Unit
We went in the studio towards the end of the summer –we’re probably looking at about three weeks total recording time from the first session at the end of the summer to when we finished in November.
Here We Rest was done a little bit more live than the last record that we did or my first solo record. We used a lot of first takes – even on vocals – and recorded a lot of stuff more live in the studio. You know, there are always things that you go back and touch up – with me there is, anyway. (laughs) But, yeah – we tried to capture that feel of playing live during the sessions.
I was inspired by Justin Townes Earle: when I sat in on the sessions for Harlem River Blues I noticed a lot of those songs were first vocal takes. I was amazed at the courage it takes to do that. And I thought, “Man … to sing that once and not have to go back and sing it 50 times to try to get it perfect … I think I’m going to try that.”
This band is good enough to pull that off more often than not. It’s really a hard thing to walk between musicianship and creativity for a lot of people. That’s probably one of the main reasons why I’m so happy to have the band that I have – they’re great players, but it never gets in the way of them being creative … and that can happen for a lot of folks.
A lot of your best technical musicians on earth are playing in cover bands – while a lot of your worst technical musicians are some of my very favorite independent artists … so it’s hard to find a balance there. Luckily, I have folks who play for the song and are still able to nail it pretty damn quickly. We didn’t spend a whole lot of time playing things over and over on this record – which saves you some money and keeps everybody fresh.
We didn’t play these songs on the road before we went in the studio. I’d go in and play something on the piano or on acoustic guitar and we went from there.
Amanda, Abby, Derry, and “Alabama Pines”
Amanda Shires does some really beautiful fiddle work on this album, including “Alabama Pines”. She sang on some songs, as well. We hope to have Amanda do some shows with us in the months ahead. She’s got her own album coming out in May – Carrying Lightning. You should check it out. Abby Owens also did some vocals on the album – she’s got a great, great voice.
“Alabama Pines” is a good example of Derry’s playing – he really is a different kind of keyboard player. It’s hard to find someone who doesn’t need to play all the time and play all over everything. Derry is really selfless with the way he plays; he takes to the song really well. I think some of the songs on the album might sound a little stagnant if it wasn’t for some of the moving keyboard lines that run underneath.
I’m trying to think of exactly what sort of place I was in when I wrote “Alabama Pines”. I don’t really remember, but I was probably on the road when that one got started – pretty exhausted and not taking care of myself the way I should’ve been.
“Alabama Pines” was the first track that we cut for the record. I’d just sat down and played it for everybody when Chad got a call that a really close friend of his had passed. He was devastated, of course; we were all shook up and trying to figure out what we should do about it.
I went outside with Chad to have a cigarette … I just asked him if he wanted to work or go home or what he wanted to do. He wanted to stay there and work and keep himself occupied and focused on what we were trying to do. What he was feeling had a lot to do with the recording of that song … it added a whole lot of weight to the process.
It was odd that “Alabama Pines” was the song we were working on, because it deals with some of those kinds of issues: the guy has been away from home for a long time and is pretty despondent … and it’s not clear just how he’s going back home.
And a shout-out to Wayne’s …
Oh, yeah – there really is a Wayne’s Liquor store. Wayne’s is great. If you’re headed north from Birmingham, it’s the last one where you can get liquor on Sundays. I bet I’ve stopped there a thousand times. (laughs)
Browan Lollar: guitarist/artist
Browan’s guitar playing is just so good all over this album. He always complements the song.
Browan sort of came out of nowhere down here; he was doing some art stuff and delivering steak sandwiches when I put the band together. I asked him if he wanted the gig; he was really into the music I wanted to make right from the beginning … just a natural fit.
That’s Browan’s painting on the album cover, by the way. He’s a great artist, besides being a great guitarist.
The don’t-you-remember-me of “We’ve Met”
I’ve been on both sides of that question – and it probably sucks the most to be the one asking it. I guess that’s what I was thinking about when I wrote it: I’ve had quite a few experiences with people where they say, “You know me …” and I’m trying to flip through the Rolodex in my head thinking, “Oh, God – I’m going to be such an asshole by the end of this conversation.”
Sometimes it’s better to come clean and just say, “I’m so sorry; I apologize, but it’s not going to happen – I really don’t remember who you are.”
Of course, If they really knew me, they’d know that I can’t remember shit. (laughs)
Where “Codeine” came from
When I wrote “Codeine”, I’d been up ‘til 3 or 4 o’clock in the morning the night before playing pool and I was dealing with some difficult things at that point in time – I was kind of in a bad place.
I woke up at 8 o’clock with basically the whole song stuck in my head. I tried to talk myself into not getting out of bed for, like, 10 or 15 minutes but then I didn’t know if it would come back. I finally said to myself, “Man, I just can’t let it go; if I go back to sleep, it’s not going to be there.” I got up, made a pot of coffee, and jumped into it.
“Codeine” was one of those songs that didn’t take any longer to write than it did to write down. “Dress Blues” was that way. So was “Decoration Day” when I wrote it 10 or 12 years ago: I woke up first thing in the morning and that all just came out. I was on the road with the Truckers and at the time we were staying at people’s houses. I got up, went outside, sat down on the porch, and wrote “Decoration Day”.
Jimbo Hart and the walking bass
“Codeine” was the first time Jimbo has ever recorded on the standup bass – he’d only gotten the thing about a month before we recorded that song.
One of Derry’s friends up in Washington, DC had that bass and had played it on some sessions; he actually had two of them in a small apartment … didn’t really have the room for two standup basses. (laughs) Jimbo’s dad had to go up to the DC area to pick up a car – he works on cars and buys hot rods and that kind of thing. He picked up that bass while he was up there. I wish I had a picture of him driving through DC towing a hot rod behind him and an upright bass in the trunk.
Like I said, Jimbo had it about a month before we went in and recorded “Codeine”. He really nailed it.
Regarding the question of whether the woman in “Codeine” left on her own accord or if the fellow singing it drove her out
It doesn’t matter if she’s gone. (laughs)
The inspiration for “Stopping By”
That song is definitely coming from a personal space … the details have been changed because I don’t want to hurt the innocent, you know? In “Stopping By”, I’m not really talking about my own life, because I’m very close to my family and grew up really good friends with my father … the people I’m referencing in that song didn’t have the same kind of situation that I did. But I’m familiar enough with people and the situation to be able to write it with some kind of clarity.
I think this whole album is like that – this is the most story-driven thing I’ve done as far as my own records.
The emotions just below the surface of “Daisy Mae”
That song is coming from a place of protection. The narrator in “Daisy Mae” is trying to protect something that he cares a whole lot about. It sort of reminds me of conversations with some of the older people that I grew up around: they were very sweet people but at the same time, there’s a potential for violence if things come to that.
There are some of the sweetest people in the world that I know – people in my own family who I really love and respect – who will resort to just ridiculous amounts of violence if they get angry and provoked enough.
The nasty guitar on “Never Could Believe”
We wanted “Never Could Believe” to have that really nasty, under-produced sound. I was playing an old Harmony from the 1920s that my uncle found in a flea market in Birmingham. He’s an antique collector, so he’s always going to the shops and flea markets and trying to find things that nobody’s come across yet. He gave it to me for Christmas – I have no idea how much he paid for it, but knowing him and knowing he’s a good negotiator, I’m betting he got a ridiculous deal on it.
I sent it to Scott Baxendale, who’s moved his guitar shop to Athens, GA now. Scott builds guitars – he’s built one for me and ones for a bunch of my friends – and does repairs and stuff. He went all through the old Harmony: refretted it, rebraced it; put a pickup in it … he did a great job. I’ve used that thing for more recording already than any other guitar I own. It’s a beauty.
Chad’s presence
Chad nailed that New Orleans feel on “Never Could Believe”. He started playing live with us just after we finished the last album. He’s really great, both in a live setting and in the studio.
Chad’s kind of the “anti-drummer” as far as his personality goes. He’s really down-to-earth and calm – a good, level-headed guy in the van … and that’s important. (laughs)
Paying homage
“Heart On A String” was originally recorded down here by Candi Staton back in 1970. The original album is hard to find, but it’s one of my favorite soul records and one that never got its due.
There are so many really fantastic R&B singers from the 60s and 70s who never got the attention they deserved – folks like Jimmy Hughes or Ann Peebles. Look at Bettye LaVette – she’s had some success lately, but when she was originally out there doing her thing, not a whole lot of people even knew who she was.
Trying to record a song like “Heart On A String”, you learn so much about the original version: it was beautifully sung and beautifully performed. It’s really hard for me to talk myself into going in and re-recording a soul song like that. But I did it because I think that people need to hear that song. I want them to dig back in the past and find the original version of it … and understand where it came from.
The sung-from-a-barstool feel of “Save it for Sunday”
There’s a bar downstairs where I live; I spend a lot of time down there and everybody has a story. It’s one of those things where you don’t even want to talk about what’s going wrong in your life – especially where things haven’t been going well lately for a lot of people. The guy on the stool next to you has always got it worse and the guy next to him has got it worse than he does and so on.
The area I live in – part of north Alabama – has never been a very economically successful place. It’s always been sort of a ghost town.
At the same time, there’s a lot more going for a place than just economics. I remember watching a documentary about New Orleans in the aftermath of Katrina and someone mentioned the recession. And one of the folks who lived there said something like, “Recession? We’ve been in a recession since we were born. There’s always been a recession here – we’re used to it. We can handle that.”
On being a voice for veterans
I guess “Tour of Duty” is almost a follow-up to “Dress Blues”. I had a whole lot of people come up to me and tell me their story after they heard “Dress Blues”.
It was always a great thing for me to listen to the folks who have made it back … because you don’t get to hear from the other people – the ones who didn’t. I’ve seen a lot of really happy, really well-adjusted, really emotionally-stable guys and then I’ve heard a whole lot more that were having a hard time with being back with their family; being back in the place where they grew up; and trying to recondition themselves to civilian life.
I think they’re fine for the most part, and really making an effort … but a lot of them have turned into great actors. Since they’ve come back from the Middle East, they don’t want their wives or their parents to see them all shook up – they feel they wouldn’t understand it anyway if they did. So they’ve become really good at masking a lot of those emotional problems that they have.
I can’t assume to know what it was like there for them or know what it’s like since they came back. But I feel I know people from the area – people I grew up around – pretty well and it might be a little easier for me to read between the lines with what these guys are saying. There’s more to it than, “I’m glad I made it home.” That’s what I’m trying to say when I write about them.
I try my best, anyway.
