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Photograph by Spring Waugh
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Jay Farrar is still ambivalent about putting on the bear suit.
In his new book, Falling Cars and Junkyard Dogs, Farrar—a music veteran whose credits include the bands Uncle Tupelo and Son Volt, as well as various solo albums and other projects—recalls an anecdote involving a musician who plays in the marching band at Disney World…while wearing a bear costume. For him, making music for a living was a dream come true, albeit one pretty sharply undercut by the humbling circumstances.
Here’s how he made his peace with it: “If you’re gonna work at Disney World,” he reasoned, “sooner or later you’re going to have to put on the bear suit.”
Farrar, who grew up in East St. Louis and Belleville, Ill., and now lives in St. Louis, isn’t famous, exactly. But showbiz is showbiz, and Farrar has had more than just a taste. Uncle Tupelo’s debut album, No Depression, gave a name to an upstart subgenre of music that would eventually be called alternative country and/or Americana. And Farrar has worked with, crossed paths with, and had his songs covered by some of the greats. But platinum albums and People magazine covers have eluded him, and that suits him just fine. “Being an observer seems paramount to me and anonymity is priceless,” he writes.
The book—Farrar’s first—isn’t a narrative, but rather a series of short, sharp vignettes that seem very much of a piece with his songs. They’re keenly observed and told with both a penchant for understatement and an obvious love of language. There are stories from his childhood, some quite harrowing, and tales of his lovable and decidedly left-of-the-dial father, James “Pops” Farrar. “High school was the age when I began to realize that not everyone had a hillbilly eccentric father who harbored 13 cars in various stages of assembly, five motorcycles and one wooden self-depiction sculpture cut with a chainsaw,” Farrar writes.
He describes getting his start in music by playing with his brothers, and later tells of odd happenings on the road and encounters with heroes Doug Sahm, Townes Van Zandt, Roger McGuinn, and June Carter Cash, among others.
There are precious few words about Uncle Tupelo, however. The band’s name is mentioned only a handful of times, and Farrar’s longtime musical partner, Jeff Tweedy, is not named at all. In the eponymous chapter, which recounts the band’s bitter breakup, Tweedy is referred to merely as “the bass player.”
Ouch.
But Falling Cars and Junkyard Dogs isn’t about getting even with old bandmates. It’s about coming to terms with more fundamental issues—like wearing the bear suit. Or not.
The book isn’t Farrar’s only current artistic endeavor. There’s a new Son Volt album out as well. Honky Tonk is the band’s first record since 2009’s American Central Dust, although in the meantime Farrar also released two collaborative projects, One Fast Move or I’m Gone: Music from Kerouac’s Big Sur (with Death Cab for Cutie’s Ben Gibbard) and New Multitudes (with Centro-matic’s Will Johnson, My Morning Jacket’s Yim Yames, and Varnaline’s Anders Parker).
Honky Tonk sounds like its name would indicate. It’s based on Farrar’s abiding love for country music’s Bakersfield sound—think Merle Haggard and Buck Owens—fueled by shuffling rhythms, twinned fiddles, and pedal steel guitar. At the same time, it was inspired by Farrar’s occasional gig sitting in on pedal steel with St. Louis honky-tonk band Colonel Ford, which features Farrar’s brother Dade, as well as newly minted Son Volt guitarist Gary Hunt. Lyrically, it’s more straightforward and accessible than almost every other Son Volt/Farrar release, but no less deeply felt.
Together, Honky Tonk and Falling Cars and Junkyard Dogs are a powerful one-two punch from one of St. Louis’ finest.
Stream this track to get a taste of the new album. Son Volt performs Saturday, June 1 at The Pageant, 6161 Delmar. Tickets are $20 in advance, $22 day of show, with a $2 minor surcharge. For more information, call 314-726-6161 or visit thepageant.com.
NOW HEAR THIS
Trace
With songs such as “Windfall” and “Tear Stained Eye,” Son Volt’s 1995 debut was the defining document of the still-nascent No Depression/Americana movement (next to Uncle Tupelo’s No Depression, that is). Nearly two decades later, it still stands as an unimpeachable classic.
Okemah and the Melody of Riot
After a trio of solo albums, Farrar revived Son Volt in 2005 with a new group of musicians and a brace of new songs that rank with his best, including “Bandages & Scars,” “Jet Pilot,” and “Medication.”
New Multitudes
On this release, out last year, Farrar and friends collaborate across space and time with Woody Guthrie, bringing some of the folk icon’s unpublished lyrics to life at long last.
