Strings attached...
She’s an amazing guitar player, she’s highly original creative force, but something is eating at Marnie Stern, and it’s driving her to achieve her best work so far as BRAD BARRETT finds out.
of myself, even the lame parts. But it’s easy; it’s not difficult for me. And also because my family are the entire opposite of that I think it’s
partly...probably some kind of ‘screw you guys, here I am!’” Certainly from Marnie’s frenetic tapping, textural
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merican rock guitarist/singer Marnie Stern is a somewhat perplexing figure. A mercurial guitarist whose dexterous style combines virtuoso finger tapping with a cool indie pop song writing suss, her music often careers from its underground indie roots into explosive free-form workouts. So, are we dealing with the indie rock world’s answer to Eddie Van Halen, or what?! Marnie would probably just throw back her blonde locks and laugh heartily at such a ridiculous suggestion. “I tell you the highlight is it’s gone pretty smoothly,” she says while discussing the highlight of the short UK and European tour that she and her two band members (drummer Zach Hill and bassist Malia James) are enjoying in late 2010. “I’m used to (tours) going wrong on such disastrous proportion that it being this mild, I almost feel something else bad is gonna happen.” As opening gambits go it’s a cross between tongue- in-cheek and genuine paranoia, perhaps justified by huge spates of bad luck. As we cross from north to east London on the way to Marnie’s Rough Trade East show in their fairly roomy tour van, Marnie’s honesty is disarming, endearing and totally admirable. “I think I have something, I don’t wanna say
wrong with me, but there’s some missing thing where I don’t care if every person on the planet knows every single thing about me,” she says of her personal, emotional revealing on her third, self titled album. “I don’t know what that... what the fuck IS that because most people want privacy, want to keep themselves to themeslves,” she suddenly says, addressing her band. A short discussion ensues, where it is decided that this quality, of taking the power away from the taboos and things we’re meant to be ashamed of, is incredible and inspirational. Marnie shrugs it off: “Well the good part is I’m not ashamed of any stuff
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riffs and odd squeals from her guitar matched with her hyperactive, freeform melodic vocals, there’s always been a sense of someone unafraid to throw herself into a wall to make sure she sticks. From the string laden Transparency Is the New Mystery and the atonal tap-stabbing at the beginning of Nothing Left to the chiming, torrential crescendos and cadences of For Ash, a song dedicated to a deceased ex, the astonishing palette at her fingertips and larynx is unbelievable. It’s a kick in the teeth for those who were wowed by her proficiency because, although it’s definitely still evident, it has become far more expressive and weaved into a really tactile sound. “I think part of the technical stuff I liked early on because it does help to quantify your musicianship a little bit. I think it helps you make more interesting stuff but at the same time, I was first trying really hard to fit in with my peers and so then it was more important to me and almost...I don’t feel like I have to do that anymore and I
I enjoy someone playing an acoustic guitar but they’re being weird or singing weird or just doing something where I hear the individual in the music.”
don’t feel as insecure about needing to show a technical ability to prove that I’m an ok musician.” Writing by piecemeal by selecting hundreds of eloquent musical phrases, putting them together with her flowing vocals - “That’s hardest for me; it’s so hard to find melody. It’s really tough for me,” she claims – before throwing them to the killer drum wolf Zach Hill to record his parts around and upon them, it’s a fragile process which could go either way for her.
“When I feel like I’ve nailed it, I get worried that (an idea) is just gonna be covered between my coverage and his coverage. We’re talking too much coverage! Then it’s like a weird thing, I send it off and prapare myself and sometimes I’m pleasently surprised and sometimes I’m like “oh”.” When asked how much sway she has over Zach, she instantly replies “Zero! He’s been much better trying to make the drums fit the music as opposed to going crazy on top of it”, she admits before the chink in her armour lets some of that darkness to seep out. “And you know a lot of people say my music would be shit without Zach playing on the record.” All the head shaking in the world doesn’t stop her from admitting it may be a possibility. It’s still wrong. “I worry about everything, so I find something to worry about.”
This harsh personal attitude to herself is one
that’s hard to avoid throughout her work this time round. Self doubt, defeatism rings in the lyrics while the music surfs across a glorious optimism tuned slightly flat towards pessimism. It’s even in her self-editing. “Well lately it’s not very good. For every 20 ideas, I pick one. Or just the style of the thing is a little to one way or a little too the other way, not enough blending.” Yet this is a woman who turns the conversation to a “choose your own adventure” style record, a way of making it interactive for fans from singing along to altering the parts to fit the listener’s mood, who talks freely about ditching her mawkish carthartic “Alanis Morissette” whines as soon as they come out, and explains the Brian Eno and David Bowie ‘Oblique Strategies’ concept, which is meant to inspire and push your ideas into new territory through abstract statements. It’s clear that whatever is forcing her demons out into the public arena, allowing her vulnerability to become part of the music, is not affecting her determination, creative ambitions and originality of thinking. There aren’t any records that sound much like Marnie Stern, from 2010 or any year, apart from her own. The one notably strident and confident thing she says concerns her explanation of what she most dislikes in music, the safe option: “I think it’s just not memorable or that this could be anybody. I even like when it’s not my style of music; say, when it’s someone with an acoustic guitar but they’re being weird or singing weird or just something where I hear the individual in the music.” And does she think she’s managed to do this herself? She responds, at firecracker speed, with just as much impact. “Yes I do! I think I’ve got that weirdness down.” Not here to be pandered to or mollycoddled, Marnie Stern deserved to be admired and cherished. PM
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