For every heartbreaking song on Christopher Owens’ new album A New Testament, there’s a song eagerly waiting to portray the flip side. For every slow-burner, tear-jerker, or downtempo narrative, there’s a track chock full of jumpy guitar and playful lyrics ready to shift the mood and pick up the pace. It’s a curious juxtaposition which is partly due to the fact that some of the songs were written years ago, as much as six years back. It may be easy to characterize this as a clash of moods, or a misconstrued theme, but when a songwriter is as personal and open as Owens is, the result manifests itself entirely differently.
It’s like reading someones diary, a window to some of the most sensitive and vulnerable parts of the human psyche, but this time with their permission. With writing as personal as this, the theme quickly becomes the writer itself—A New Testament isn’t only a reflection of Owens’ musical abilities, it’s a display of his innermost workings. Despite the fact that the album isn’t afraid to bare it all, it still stands with unwavering confidence as it delves into the making of a man, one Christopher Owens.
From growing up as part of the religious group Children of God, to escaping to Amarillo, Texas, moving to San Francisco, and then starting and quitting Girls, Owens’ life has taken some pretty drastic turns. All of that is touched upon in the album, as well as feelings regarding love, loss, and family—all mixed in with an underlying country flair. A New Testament is exactly what the record is, a new chapter in Owens’ life, written without ever losing sight of the past.
For A New Testament, Owens is an open book, and anyone is welcome to read a page or two.
The title, A New Testament, is a pretty big statement, how literally should we take it?
It came to my mind a while ago, a few records back. I didn’t end up using it but I thought it was a good album title, especially for a strong album like this, where things are really going for it and it’s making a statement. I think a new album should be a new testament anyway. That’s really what an album is for a songwriter, it’s a testament to who they are and what they’re trying to do. To me it works in a very simple, literal way, and the fact that it has the association to something so ingrained in our minds—the New Testament of the bible—is something I’ve always liked.
I like to take things that everyone knows and re-associate them. The album before, Father, Son, Holy Ghost, was the same idea. “Lust for Life,” same idea. There’s something a bit cheeky about it because I’m a secular person, but it’s no reference to the gospel or Sermon on the Mount, it’s just a really bold title. I think it’s kind of a ballsy move but at the same time it serves a purpose, you hear that title and you’re not going to forget it.
Your songs are very personal, what is your writing process like?
I write like once a week, a couple times a week or something, little bits of time here and there. I wait for the idea to come to me and then I record a demo of it right then. It’s always when I’m by myself, I can’t imagine writing in a studio.
How does it go from demos to an album like A New Testament?
The general approach, the sound of the song, the instrumentation, that all just kind of comes to me. Anytime I’ve ever written a song it just presents itself to me as a whole, I kind of hear how it should sound as I write. Maybe not down to the notes or the actual beats, but I know things like, “Ok drums are going to come in on the second chorus here.” But the musicians I work with have a lot of freedom to do whatever they want, it’s not like they come in and have sheet music and I’m cracking the whip—but I do know that I want a solo after the first verse, for example. I tell them where I want them and then they have a whole lot of freedom in that spot.
The album has quite a significant country feel to it, what draws you to the culture and sound?
I think it’s a real classic genre, it’s pretty accessible to just about anybody. Japanese people, English people, French people, they probably listen to country music too. When you get into the classics, they’re not called classics for nothing and there’s something fundamentally sound to them. I think as a country songwriter it’s such a simple approach, simple lyrics, a verse, and a chorus—it’s not very experimental, it’s tried and true.
I felt comfortable working in it and I felt my purpose of songwriting had a lot of parallels with people I already liked. Willie Nelson, even though he’s a true country artist I don’t feel that different from him. You know you listen to someone like Patsy Cline and it’s not that much different from Ella Fitzgerald, it’s kind of the same thing. Add about nine years spent in Amarillo, Texas, a small town where I heard country everyday and went to country concerts. I’m sure that had an influence on me too, or maybe it just makes me feel a little more validated. [laughs]
There were some things about living there that weren’t a natural fit for me. It’s a very conservative place and my first year there one of the first guys I met was murdered by a member of the football team. It immediately set the tone and it was just because that guy had a fauxhawk, tattoos, and a leather jacket.
You traveled with Children of God as a child and you’ve bounced around to a few different places, have you been able to call a place “home?”
When I moved to Amarillo I was on my own, my time with Children of God was all spent abroad so the two were very separate. When I lived in Amarillo—and I lived there for a while—there was a time when it started to feel like home, but I kind of hated it. I look back now and I love it but it wasn’t really where I thought I’d end up when I moved to the states. There were some things about living there that weren’t a natural fit for me.
It’s a very conservative place and my first year there one of the first guys I met was murdered by a member of the football team. It immediately set the tone and it was just because that guy had a fauxhawk, tattoos, and a leather jacket—just some typical good ol’ fashion girl-boys running around Easy Rider style. So I never really felt at home there but I spent enough time where I can look back now and it’s a big part of my life.
I feel more at home here in San Francisco, and technically I’ve spent half a year longer here than I spent in Amarillo so this is the longest place I’ve ever lived in my life. There’s also kind of a non-geographical home I have from my childhood, the greater community I was part of, as much as I rebelled against it, it’s a part of who I am.
Did you pick up a lot of music abroad?
Well music was a big part of my life in Children of God. We sang together everyday in the morning just after breakfast, singing the songs the adults wrote. I learned to play the guitar when I was 13 and all the kids knew how to sing, we would be sat down in groups to busk to raise money for the home. It wasn’t music as I know it now though, it was just sort of something we did. It took a long time for me to actually want to start to write songs and play music the way I do—it wasn’t until I was about 26 that I even started picking it back up. We didn’t listen to any secular music in Children of God but I did leave when I was 16, I’m 35 now and I have a pretty solid musical background regardless of the upbringing. But at the same time the upbringing gave me an appreciation of music and taught me how to play guitar.
I do agree with the purpose gospel is supposed to serve, escaping from the troubles of daily life, giving yourself to the music, and letting it uplift you. I can totally relate to that, but I’ve never been religious.
Are you still religious today? There’s touches of gospel in the album but I can’t tell if that’s being used ironically.
I’d like to say subversively, I don’t really like to be ironic in general so lets say subversively. I do agree with the purpose gospel is supposed to serve, escaping from the troubles of daily life, giving yourself to the music, and letting it uplift you. I can totally relate to that, but I’ve never been religious. I’m not now and I wasn’t as a kid, which is part of what made my upbringing so difficult. I was always considered a problem child, I had a hard time believing the things my parents and the older generation did. I don’t have much of a chip on my shoulder about it and I can start to appreciate things like gospel music and the purpose it can serve. I disassociate the religious side of it, and take it on aesthetically, or take it on spiritually if you will. I have this theory that you can remove god from it completely and it’s still very valid.
How has love and having a girlfriend affected your music as of late?
On this record there are songs as old as six years that have been sitting around that I wanted to be on the right album. There’s some on love from a completely different point of view, more of the old feeling of wanting it, looking for it, and needing it. They’re also a good chunk of songs, maybe four or five about my current state of love which is just very positive and nice. The song “Nobody’s Business” is about being in a positive relationship. Love has always been one of those things that motivates me to write. There’s a few cornerstones and love is one of them.
One line that stood out to me was on “A Heart Akin The Wind.” You say, “I don’t have a cellular I’m following my heart, if you wanna send a message you can whisper in the dark.” Do you have any sentiments about love in the 21st century?
I guess I do, I think it transcends all that. People discuss things like flirting over Twitter, but I think even though all those things are a little superficial, the real sentiments are still the same. I actually wrote that when I was on the European tour, and you can’t use your cellphone over there unless you spend 500 bucks so there’s a general feeling about being a wandering lone-wolf, a cowboy. It’s one of those songs where I get a little playful, like “Big Bad Mean Motherfucker” on the first Girls album, it’s not really about the person I actually am, it’s like roleplaying a little bit. There’s a little bit of that in “A Heart Akin The Wind” but it comes from a genuine place.
Do you ever get nervous when you put out some of your most personal material?
No, I really enjoy that stuff, that’s the most enjoyable stuff. I think the most I get out of all this is from doing those songs, whether it’s writing, recording, or performing them. That’s when it feels the best for me.
You get a sense of release?
There’s a therapeutic and cathartic thing to it but I also know at those points that I’m doing something genuine and something only I can do. I guess the opposite of that is being in a cover band, really. If I was just a band where I didn’t really have any connection to my lyrics, it would be about as fun as being in a cover band.
What artists have inspired you?
I get influenced from old ’60s musicals, classic bands, songwriters—it’s just everywhere. I’ve been getting into some jazz, I listened to Chet Baker for a while and found myself writing purring, melancholy jazz standards. I’m pretty moldable. It’s important to do something original, but I also think it’s important to copy what already exists.
Could you ever make a jazz album?
Yeah, I’d love to, that’s something I hope to do. As much as this record is about exploring the country side, one of the things on my list is to explore the jazz side at some point. I like to do these things organically though, I’d like to meet a musician who plays the instrument I want to work with. I’ve never really done any work with session musicians and I have a gut feeling that I’d be afraid of doing that. I think part of the process is who I end up meeting.
Why afraid?
People are people. Maybe I worry for nothing but jazz is a very broad genre, I don’t know if can just go in there and be b-boppin’ all over the place, if it doesn’t gel with my particular mood. I feel like it’s a little more settling to know the person, know where they’re coming from, maybe hear them play first, and then be like, “Oh I know what we can do together.” I’m not opposed to working with somebody that’s a total stranger but I think I’d have to be familiar with their work or something—at least be a fan or just know that before it ended it would be OK.
The album cover looks like one big family, what was the thought process behind it?
By the time it came to making the cover I thought it would be important to show the groups that played on the record. I wasn’t interested in taking some photo through a prism lens and then blurring part of it, printing it out black and white on blue paper. I didn’t have any stylized vision, a way to market it, or any desire to make it look like a Led Zeppelin cover—people do that. So I’m there with the photographer and I have the group and they’re asking me what I want to do. I realized, “Oh shit,” this is a thing, people want to know how you want to shoot style-wise. I said, “Just shoot it plain, white background, just us, straightforward.”
I think the main thing I learned from making this record was how much those individuals ended up affecting the overall sound. It was important to show how it came together. I had planned to make a country record and then I went and asked these people to play and they brought in different elements and I found myself seeing it all unfold and being like “Ok this is cool.” It was so much bigger than what I was aiming for.
Christopher Owens’ new album ‘A New Testament’ is out September 30 via Turnstile. Buy here.
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Image via Christopher Owens Facebook
