“I’ve been trying to say more with less,” reveals Courtney Barnett in her cozy Aussie burr. And indeed, she has.
Latest LP ‘Things Take Time, Take Time’ is a quietly reflective work crafted amid the bleak ennui of the global Covid lockdowns. Barnett spent much of that bonkers spell living alone in a sleepy Melbourne suburb, relishing a little peace and quiet after several years as a globetrotting rockstar.
The resulting songs are leaner and more earnest than the rapid fire wit of her early stuff, and are all the richer for it. Prettier, certainly – laced with bewitching ambiguity.
“I wanted to leave air for interpretation,” she says. “Scope for guesswork.”
Well lucky old me I had Courtney all to myself for half an hour ahead of her UK dates in Manchester, London and Brighton this autumn. Here’s what went down…
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Hey Courtney Barnett, did Covid freak you out when it first dropped? Or was it a welcome respite from the madness of constant touring?
I was staying in LA at a friend’s house when it all started to go down. I remember one day we each went to the store, when the shelves were emptying, and just bought a massive bunch of stuff. Later we inspected our stash, it was this crazy random assortment of canned food. We laughed at ourselves.
At least you made it home to Melbourne.
Yes, and suddenly found myself in the quietest, stillest period I’ve had in a long time.
What was that like for you?
Everything took on a new meaning. It felt like the lockdowns were necessary, but we took some time to adapt. It got me thinking about procrastination. In life, we’re always complaining how we don’t have enough time to do the things we want to do. Time to write songs, for instance. Well, suddenly I had endless hours for that. And somehow I still found excuses.
Well at least you eventually got around to it. Some of the nicest moments here concern the minutiae of daily life – changing bedsheets, watching children play. Why do you obsess over the small stuff?
I think the really interesting thing about songwriting is we all interpret those moments in different ways. They might seem simple and obvious, but we all perceive them in very different ways, with different shades of meaning.
As a seasoned balladeer, when something insignificant but poetic – like the row with your partner on ‘Before You Gotta Go’ – occurs in your life do you instantly reach for your notebook?
I can be pretty lazy, so I often assume I’ll just remember whatever it is. Of course, then I forget straight away. Like waking from a dream. So the one thing I have learned in life is to write everything down. Those little moments stand out for a reason. The simpler the stronger, I always think.
Was your songwriting style always so direct, or did it evolve?
I started writing songs when I was ten. So there was a big progression from there to age 18, and from there to 24, and to today. I remember hitting on a style that felt true to me, but it’s been a pretty long journey. I’m still learning, always fine-tuning.
I feel like, on this record, you’re not so much going for laughs. Your earlier stuff was more punchline-centric, maybe.
That’s an interesting way to look at it. I think I used to put in lines that were humorous to me, as a self-defensive thing. Making a joke to lighten the mood, to deflect, so some sort of vulnerability gets covered up. For this album I was determined to simplify things. To say more with less.
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You lean heavily on the drum machine on this album, compared to the more analoge vibe on earlier records. Why is that?
I had a vintage Roland CR-8000 drum machine to play with. Drum machines anyway are a really important part of my writing process. In this instance, the kind of relentless monotony of a drum machine suited the mood. The repetition of lockdown life, its meditative rhythms. Generally, for me, a drum machine helps create a mood. When I write, I tend to just loop over and over a single idea, for like half an hour. That’s why I always write alone – unlike with a real drummer, I don’t need to worry about it getting bored, or hungry. I can just sing gibberish for awhile and get lost.
In the chorus of Rae Street you sing “Time is money / And money is no man’s friend…” Does writing ever feel like work to you?
That was something my dad used to say to me and my brother. It popped into my head during lockdowns, because there were all these debates going on, amid the bread-baking, about how we probably need to get the economy going again at some point. Everybody was on this forced holiday, kind of ironically juggling with the idea that people hate working, but they need it. Writing is a challenge, but it’s a welcome challenge.
Do you pay much attention to the news? I’m thinking about the line: “Sit beside me, watch the world burn…”
Yeah, I guess, it’s just there isn’t it? Every day. That song is actually slightly older, about the 2019 bushfires in Australia. It’s literal and metaphorical. Multi-faceted, I guess.
Tell me about your relationship with Warpaint drummer Stella Mozgawa, who produced this album.
I’ve learned a lot from her. From her positive attitude. Whenever we hit a wall in the recording process, she was always really positive. Sometimes I do this thing where I settle for the first idea that seems to work. She doesn’t, and I really respect that. She’ll always push, when she thinks an idea could be better, or weirder, or more interesting. On the track ‘Turning Green’, for instance, she suggested taking the guitar out and making it just drums and bass. That disassembly, taking it apart and starting from scratch, ultimately made a more powerful song.
What’s your favourite bit on the album?
I played drums on ‘Oh The Night’, that was fun. My first official drum credit. That’s a great example, actually, of Stella saying ‘let’s try something different.’ She got on the piano and I got on the kit. It turned the track upside down and made it lots more interesting.
You’re coming back to the UK for the first time in awhile, that’s exciting.
Yes, it’s always great returning to this kind of energy, I get bigger crowds every time it feels like, and I feel really supported there. It’s a really nice thing.
Did you paint the cover? It’s gorgeous.
Thanks. During lockdown I did a bunch of drawing and painting. I tried a few ideas, but this one made the most sense. It’s a work in progress, which shows the process. It suits the themes of the album. Nothing too elaborate.
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Courtney Barnett will play Manchester’s Albert Hall on Nov 11, the Brighton Dome Nov 12 and the Roundhouse, London, on Nov 13.
Words: Andy Hill
