Photograph by Steve Gullick, courtesy of Secretly Canadian Records
After interviewing Damien Jurado, I was left with the impression that the Seattle songster puts much, much more of himself into his work, rather than talking away his mystique and craft in conversations with journalists. Jurado’s terse answers and brief explanations of music and painting—he was a painter before his career as a musician—resonated in a strange way, yet left me knowing little more about him than I did before. And why shouldn’t this be the case? After all, Jurado’s catalog of songs and albums tell the much more important narratives of love, loss, mental anguish, beauty. To expect him to lavish us with raconteurish anecdotes would be an error. Because the music he’s made and keeps making is where the stories and mysteries reside. They—the songs—are the testament that out of work comes work, at least in Jurado’s case. In this sense, it matters very little that I couldn’t glean much personal information or, even worse, musical gossip about the industry and its slings and arrows. He summed up any personal bits thus: “My life is fairly uninteresting.”
Jurado creates fictionalized landscapes in his songs that often confound listeners by sounding extremely personal and rending. As an analogue, think of Joyce’s dictum, that “the actions of men are the best interpreters of their thoughts.” Armed with an acoustic guitar and an astonishing voice, Jurado acts out his thoughts within the parameters of breathtaking arrangements and performances that are garnering larger and larger audiences. Case in point, this Saturday’s show with Jason Isbell at the Peabody. When asked about going from performing at house shows to opera houses, Jurado described the experience as “surreal.” Jason Isbell’s wife arranged the tour that is now bringing Jurado bigger and well-deserved audiences. But more importantly, it’s Jurado’s tenacity and brilliance that have carried the day, as it were. From early efforts such as Rehearsals For Departure and Ghost of David to his 2014 release, Brothers and Sisters of the Eternal Son, Jurado has grown into a bigger, more eclectic sound. But the lyrical thread is present in all of his work, that fictional morphing into what feels so individual and heartfelt. And why separate the made from the emotionally felt? He manages to navigate both. For verification, check out Jericho Road, Tonight I Will Retire, Cloudy Shoes, et cetera.
When I asked about his paintings, Jurado stated that he “liked sign-painters.” He would not engage in a faux conversation about aesthetics or the anxiety of influence. (“I can’t often remember the names of the painters who have inspired me.”) To some people, Jurado’s way of playing his cards close to his chest might even come off as indifferent, or even elitist. What I thought would be a mutual and pointless (in the end) session of references and talk ended with another mystery. I didn’t know one thing about Jurado I couldn’t have gotten from looking and listening, to both his paintings and music. Nevertheless, it’s often the timbre of a voice that tells more than if the voice itself went on and killed the atmosphere with detail. Jurado’s voice is reassuring and steady and rather deep. It seems to hold secrets. And he’s not releasing them. He’s acting them out in a much more profound way. You only have to hear him perform or call out from a record.
It’s a rare privilege for a writer, a music reviewer even, to be only in the position of one who praises. In light of Jurado’s career, it’s not just the stick-to-it ethic, it’s also that the man has never released, to my mind, a dull song or album. And so it’s a natural miracle, if I can combine antitheses, that success has found him. Some of us just expected the “miracle” to occur much earlier. It just might be that the time spent waiting and making records, however dull on the exterior, aided Jurado’s inner life, which he has described as “spiritual.” So many of his tracks have the feel of plainsongs and prayer. They—the songs—exist as mysteries. My humble injunction is that St. Louis should attend the Peabody early enough to witness Jurado singing and playing in such fittingly gorgeous surroundings.
Jason Isbell and Damien Jurado appear at the Peabody Opera House (1400 Market) on February 14 at 8 p.m. Tickets are $35 and $45. For more information, call 314-499-7600 or visit peabodyoperahouse.com.
