Emily Massey And The Service Of Solitude
Portrait By Alexa Viscius, Live Photos by Elena Saviano
The last few years have left very few of us untouched by the icy hands of isolation; Chicago-based Slow Pulp frontwoman Emily Massey is no exception.
Hers, however, was self-inflicted: an upright attempt at drawing the curtains, blacking out the noise, and fashioning a sonic wonderland from the protracted silence.
Concealed in a woody Wisconsin cabin, Massey laid the foundation for the band’s sophomore record, Yard a sobering sequel to their first, Moveys. While we can still catch flickers of spiny self-deprecation and anxiety, Slow Pulp is exceedingly level headed and alert this time around, excavating an evolved and refreshing reflexivity. And while isolation can be harrowing, Massey mined gold from her solitude, articulating a kinetic concoction of sometimes scratchy, sometimes slippery guitars, buoyant vocals, and a not entirely surprising harmonica cameo in the penultimate track “Broadview.”
And no need to stress out about pinning down the right words to express whatever dizzying potion of emotion you’re feeling; Slow Pulp will write them all for you… and then some. Their lip-licking-bubblegum-popping-genre-bending record Yard is a no-skip success: an instinctual coalescence of unflinching sincerity and diaristic reflection.
I chatted with Massey about experimentation, rediscovering her love for ballet, and our shared love for cheese as she and the band were en route to Boston, following three triumphant nights in NYC.
Okay, so you just played three shows in New York, how was that?
Yes, they were so much fun! We felt really lucky and grateful to be playing Bowery, because we’ve opened for so many bands there.
Absolutely, and you had an opener, so did that feel like a full circle moment to you?
Yeah it did, and the band Babehoven that’s touring with us for the whole tour are such amazing musicians and songwriters and people. This is just such a great tour to be on.
That is such a great feeling. And I really felt like the crowd on Wednesday was just as happy to be there! How do you feel like you’re able to identify a good crowd? Is it an energy thing, or does it depend on your own mood and ability to receive them?
That’s a great question and a great point. It’s probably a combination of both things. Sometimes you’re really tired on the road and played a ton of shows and you’re kind of losing your mind a little bit, but I feel like the crowds and the shows have been such an amazing part of this tour. People have been bringing so much energy and have been so respectful and so kind. It’s hard to tell. I think when we can hear people singing along to the songs, that’s always kind of mind-blowing and a really sweet part of playing the shows.
You mentioned people have been kind; what has that looked like on this tour?
I feel like some of the times that we’ve been able to talk to some of the fans, just people telling us stories of how the songs helped them with something or meant something to them in a larger sense. That has been so so special to hear. People are so nice! They say the nicest things and have lovely compliments. It’s been really surreal.
I can imagine that must feel so rewarding. Obviously everyone makes music for themselves, but it’s incredible to know that it’s impacting someone.
Absolutely. And you kind of forget that when you’re making, at least I do. It feels kind of like this therapeutic thing or very difficult thing to work through: a solitary experience. But then hearing people hold the songs and have the songs take on their own lives and relate them to their personal experiences is just the highest compliment I could receive as a songwriter.
Oh absolutely. Do you do most of the writing on your own, or do you tend to involve other people in your process?
For this record, I spent a lot of time in Northern Wisconsin at some family friends’ cabins and cottages. I was completely alone writing a lot of the melodies and lyrics for these songs, and I found that to be really helpful in my process, to be isolated in that way. It allowed me to be really present in my own writing, and something I want to continue to do. I feel really privileged that I get the opportunity to have the space to do that, and I hope to just keep going! And then I bring everything to the band, and we work on it as a group. A lot of the original demo versions of the songs are just acoustic guitar and vocals and lyrics, and we build it out from there.
I really want to congratulate you on Yard. It’s a fantastic record, and hearing you talk about your process now really contextualizes a lot of what I hear coming through in your work. It’s so different sonically and energetically from Moveys so I’m wondering what inspired that change? Or how do you see the divergence of those two records?
I think making our first record was truly, truly exploratory. We did not know what we were doing at all. And making the second one, we still felt like we had no idea what we were doing, but we had some basis of knowledge from the last one: things we knew worked. We don’t really set out to make a certain type of record. We just start writing songs, and let the songs dictate how the final version is going to end up. That feels like a really freeing and natural way to make music for us, to not place too many expectations or constricted ideas of what we might want to sound like on ourselves. So I think the album came out was very natural and Henry, who plays guitar in Slow Pulp, also produces our records, and I think he really knocked it out of the park in terms of figuring out what world each song had to live in.
Yeah, I hear that. So would you say that as opposed to trying to craft a collective narrative from all the songs, it’s instead each track functioning on its own plane?
Yeah, absolutely. I think thematically, going up to these isolated places in Wisconsin, I felt like I was having a delayed processing of a lot of emotions or events or things that I had suppressed down and couldn’t hide from anymore. So I think I let that come out in each song in its own ways. They’re all about a lot of different things, but I think we didn’t try too hard to follow any sort of specific narrative or sonic landscape. It was just letting songs happen. With the songwriting for me, especially on this record, I tried my best not to think too hard, which historically is a huge problem for me with writing. I overthink everything, second guess everything. That definitely dips into so much self-criticism. With this record, I tried really hard to be outside of myself as a writer and feel more like a vessel for something to come through without too much intention. And I think that allowed the songs to have this openness that maybe wasn’t there in as big of a way on our first record.
I definitely hear that and in a lot of ways, I feel like that’s the most rewarding way to make art: to have it and allow it to happen to you.
Totally, and so many times there’s so much trying and trying and strong-arming something that just isn’t working. And you either find a pathway that works or it reaches a dead-end where I have to give it up or let it go, which is a really hard thing for me. I connote that so much with failure. So I think I’m allowing myself to have those moments of “failure” and push forward without letting it get to me too much.
I agree, I feel that way in my own work too.
Oh yeah, it’s completely a universal experience. And I forget that! Everyone is so zoned in on their work, everyone thinks, “I’m the only person in the world who is unable to do this.” You forget that anyone who makes any type of art or does any type of creative endeavor goes through the exact same thing.
There’s so much trial and error, and the whole record feels so realized that I’m both not surprised and very surprised that this is the manner in which those songs came to fruition. Were you by any chance writing any of these songs during the pandemic?
A lot of the songs on our first record were written at the very beginning of the pandemic, and this record feels like a sequel in some ways of processing the years of 2020 and 2021. But after we finished Moveys, our first record, I definitely needed some time to cocoon in the way that I wasn’t making anything for a little bit. I needed a break or a refrain. So I guess we started writing some of these songs at the end of 2021. It all happened at the tail end of various kinds of lockdown, but not the big one.
The big one. And a refrain is such a nice way to put that period of rest. What do you find yourself doing, when you’re not writing music, to take a step back and enjoy yourself in other ways?
That’s a really good question. I think spending time with a lot of friends and honestly finding time to do absolutely nothing is really important to me. Some people I know are so good at going, going, going and really need to stay busy to feel a sense of control or happiness but for me, I need to let go of that and give myself some true rest time. I also grew up doing ballet and used to teach little kids ballet in Chicago. Recently, with a friend of mine, I started a beginner ballet class for adults that her and I teach in Chicago, and that has been really lovely and really recharges me in so many senses. And growing up as a dancer, there’s a lot of things that you hold onto that aren’t so healthy, whether it be body image, work ethic, competition, comparison. I think finding a place where dance can exist in my life and feel super comfortable and not too exclusive or intimidating and feel silly has been really healing for me in ways that I didn’t expect for sure. And that has translated into my own ideas of being an artist and being a musician.
I also grew up as a dancer and did ballet as well, so I completely hear and understand everything you’re saying. I can relate to how lovely it is to experience a creative outlet that relates to what you do but also doesn’t at all relate to what you do.
100%. One of my favorite songwriters and producers took a break from making music for a couple years and learned how to make furniture. And I thought that was so cool and so inspiring. I equated it to cross-training for athletes, having another way to get out your creativity can be the right thing to help you move forward in the main outlet that you have.
I can also see how taking that step with other creative people who understand the process of art-making and creativity would also provide a sense of comfort.
Yeah absolutely.
This is such a cheesy question, but I want to leave it here.
I love cheese, we’re from Wisconsin!
I love cheese too! Big brie girl. Okay, so this is perfect then! Total cheeseball question, but if you could tell yourself something when you started making art and music, what do you think you would tell yourself?
I would tell little Emily to not be so hard on herself while she’s learning and discovering and exploring. I spent so much time believing that I wasn’t worthy or good enough at so many things, especially music. I would tell her that it’s okay to make mistakes and to keep trying, and that it can be fun if you’re allowing yourself to let go of those things. That’s a lesson I learned pretty recently, and I wish that I had been able to find that earlier in myself. But it’s part of the process and feels all the more rewarding when you find yourself on the other side where it feels a little bit better.