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Some say love is a burning thing
That it makes a fiery ring
But I know love as a fading thing
Just as fickle as a feather in a stream — "Song For Zula"
Matthew Houck has been making music under the moniker Phosphorescent for almost a decade. When he made the leap from the remote town of Toney, Alabama to the eclectic musical community of Athens, Georgia, Houck adopted the moniker as a symbol of his artistic goals. Houck views his music as a dim glow in the approaching darkness, and he’s determined not to burn out.
"The concept behind the word is that it’s something that burns and makes light without combusting, without burning itself out," Houck said while sipping a beer post-set at Chicago’s Pitchfork Festival. "I think it’s a really beautiful idea, and for me it’s a reminder of why I’m doing this. It's something to strive for, that I can produce something that glows in this world without burning itself out. And I just really think it’s a beautiful word."
For his sixth album, Muchacho, Houck brings this radiance to a new intensity—even those outside of his well-established fan base sat up and took notice. On the deftly textured album out this March, the Alabama native taps into the same serene country blues that has infused his work in the past. Southern beginnings are only half the story for Houck, though, who left Athens for Brooklyn a few years ago. He self-produces everything that’s layered into his music, from the subtle synthesizers and electronic grooves, to the horns, strings and gritty vocal harmonies.
This is a man who released an Willie Nelson tribute record back in 2009 dubbed simply To Willie, but who but also self-admittedly listens to a lot of Lil Wayne, a rare rap namedrop from an artist rooted in traditional Americana. But when it comes to combining ancient acoustic traditions of the heartland with digital and modern elements, the process is simple for Houck: don’t think about it.
"Genres, as far as that goes, have never really interested me that much," he said. "It's always been a little surprising to me that there's a division, for example, between lyric-based music and physical, dancey type music. I always played around with those kind of aspects in the music that I make. For me, the songs begin with a feeling and probably a lyric and at that point it’s always kind of trying to chase down the best answer for that song."
The concept behind the word is that it’s something that burns and makes light without combusting, without burning itself out. I think it’s a really beautiful idea, and for me it’s a reminder of why I’m doing this.
One song in particular, has piqued a flame of interest in Muchacho this year—the record’s brilliant, blazing single "Song For Zula." Partially inspired by a spur-of-the-moment jaunt to Mexico (certainly, the trip was an influence on the record’s title), the opening lyrics quote Johnny Cash’s legendary "Ring of Fire" but jump off from there into a lagoon of string currents and heartbreak laments. The existential desperation of the song, along with its stark sonic beauty struck a chord even among those who weren’t familiar with Houck’s work.
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"It was one of those songs that bypassed any kind of thought process," Houck said of the track. "Most of the time songs get written from the middle or backwards or I’ll write the end. But that one, the first lyric was just the first lyric. I just started writing it and it didn’t even occur to me to go back and change it, it was just like 'oh that’s how the song starts.' It’s going to sound really ridiculous, but until I started reading the reviews about the record, it didn’t even occur to me that I had lifted a Johnny Cash lyric."
A contender for one of the most eloquent and emotional songs Houck has written, "Song For Zula" has garnered heaps of praise and remains Muchacho’s stand-out. It's the type of song that invites dialogue and allows others to share their own stories, something that Houck ranks as one of his favorite experiences in his career.
"I did feel like that was a special song and it’s been really moving and humbling and rewarding to see that other people feel that,” he said. “There’s been a few responses that have been bigger than what I expected. It’s funny sometimes the things that people will share with you, but people have shared some really moving things, it’s really sweet."
Even with a string of successful, critically-acclaimed albums under his belt—2007’s Pride, 2009’s aforementioned To Willie and 2011’s Here’s to Taking it Easy—this new record seems to have broken down a barrier for Houck and his brand of saloon-door soul.
"I’ve been doing this for around ten years now, and yeah, this is the first time that all the tours are sold out and we’re going to Europe and all around America, it’s been great," Houck said. "The 'why?' part is eternally a mystery to me, I truly don’t know. I do think I have a really good band right now and they’re amazing, I couldn’t be more proud."
I’ve been doing this for around ten years now, and yeah, this is the first time that all the tours are sold out and we’re going to Europe and all around America, it’s been great. The 'why?' part is eternally a mystery to me, I truly don’t know. I do think I have a really good band right now and they’re amazing, I couldn’t be more proud.
The band, which includes his fiancee Jo Schornikow, is mostly the same musicians who came in for 24-hour intensive sessions to play their parts on Muchacho. As close as it can, the live show mimics the recorded versions of the song, recreating them in blooming and booming renditions.
"I recorded this record in a pretty solitary way, they all play on it but it was never recorded live," he said. "I ended up having everybody in as accessories, I basically had everybody individually for a one day period is the way it worked out. The bassist and a few others are different from the live show—and there were string players and horn players on the record."
Watching the group perform at Pitchfork’s main stage during the Saturday afternoon slot of the festival reiterated that Houck is at the center of this musical nucleus, but every flourish and flair his band added was absolutely essential. There’s an importance in the country and folk tradition for bandleaders and frontman and women to acknowledge the talented, supported musicians that help bring their songs to life.
Certainly, the knowing glances between Matthew and Jo during song breaks were fraught with doe-eyed happiness—a funny thing considering Muchacho is mostly full of sad, heartbroken tunes. Sometimes light comes out of dark places though, a riveting theme that trickles through the album, whether it be on songs about spirituality like the chant-churn of "Sun, Arise!" or the growling motorcycle feel of "Ride On / Right On."
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Despite a successful year, in the overall scheme of things Phosphorescent still occupied an afternoon slot at the Chicago music festival—headliner slots were reserved for glitchy, electronic acts like Rustie, TNGHT and R&B sex-god R.Kelly. Contemporary folk music rarely makes its way into the spotlighted position, a fact that never phases Phosphorescent’s prolific frontman.
"[Folk] doesn’t have a flashiness. For better or for worse it’s just different. I don’t know that it’s a good or bad thing it just happens to be the case," he said. "This music, it requires patience. Same as good literature versus, like, a trashy novel. I can dig that there’s a difference there and I think in other art forms there seems to be a pretty clear division between things that require investment and really quick, immediate things. If you’re making music, or any kind of art, with the intention of satisfying a perceived notion of what is going to be quickly popular or trendy, I think you’re already looking in the wrong direction as an artist."
Even though he did play a fairly early set at Pitchfork, the usually languid crowd was attentive for his show—some members even broke into free-form dancing. The notoriously "hipster" hordes managed to leave enough of their scruples behind to even sing along at points to "Zula."
Folk doesn’t have a flashiness. For better or for worse it’s just different. I don’t know that it’s a good or bad thing it just happens to be the case. This music, it requires patience.
The next weekend though, at Newport’s historically folk-heralding festival, Houck’s early evening set drew ample crowds. Still not slated as a headliner, the band played like they were anyway, bringing rebellion, vivacity and even humor to the remote, grassy outdoor venue. In an environment expecting the acoustic, folk tradition be the standard, Houck’s knack for songwriting and skillful blending of new sounds felt even more original. The crowd was peppered with families, senior citizens and children and in this setting it seemed the music made more sense—it’s art that encompasses the entire human experience in its folds.
"Certainly country music feels extremely natural to me, and that must be a product of where I’m from,” he said. “I think there can be middle ground there but a lot of it is pacing, to squeeze in a lot of words into something and have it be lyric-based, it’s going to require that you have a slower tempo."
Still, live shows are where Houck finds the most joy, even after ten years. His approach is to keep things spontaneous, and the band never play with a pre-established setlist, but leave room for things to develop.
"That’s probably the most exciting thing about performing live for me, is you just start playing songs and something takes over that you can kind of just naturally respond to. I’ve never had just a straight set list like we set it up beforehand and then do it, never. At a certain point we probably do end up with a nice block of songs we like to do, and then we’ll definitely kind of play through that. But sometimes that can go out the window in a heartbeat and I love that."
Even after a decade as an artist, it’s spontaneous combustion that keeps Houck from burning out. Here’s to his continued luminescence.
