Jon Brion
November 2004
Los Angeles

It’s three in the afternoon and a slightly weary but alert Jon Brion has just woken up after recording sessions and gigs ran through late night into early morning. “I feel jetlagged without ever having traveled,” he says.

On the surface, Brion is pretty nondescript. He is steadily employed, socializes with friends, has likes and dislikes, and occasionally drinks more Guinness than coffee.

Upon closer inspection one finds his employment encompasses (in no particular order) singer, songwriter, composer, arranger, producer, multi-instrumentalist, one-man band and, some argue, comedian. Los Angeles' small and intensely intimate club Largo is where he’s earned his keep for the last eight years doing what he does best: improvising to his heart’s content. Those who frequent Brion’s Friday night shtick often file out of the club spilling hyperbolic torrents despite 2 a.m. drowsiness.

Tucked away just off Fairfax & Beverly Blvd, Largo is dimly lit, holding less than 200 people, and proprietor Mark Flanagan likes it that way. Patrons are to refrain from talking during performances, unless they’re ordering drinks. A number of notable acts, including Neil Finn, Elvis Costello, Grant-Lee Phillips and Aimee Mann have all at some point have transformed the tiny establishment into a volcano of sound. All the same, they are guests in the house that Brion built.

As a solo artist, he is no stranger to record company politics (read: trap doors). Brion was under the Lava/Atlantic umbrella for several years, during which time he completed two versions of his solo effort, Meaningless. As Lava/Atlantic felt neither version would appease listeners, Brion subsequently purchased the master recordings back from them and released it initially through Artist Direct in 2001. Brion's protege, Fiona Apple, is facing a similar fate against Sony Records with her newest project, Extraordinary Machine. Sony has shelved the album, claiming no mainstream-friendly single can be found. (If they look closely, they’ll find it’s on my middle finger.)

Under the guise of producer, Brion has been responsible for the sound of Rhett Miller’s The Instigator, Aimee Mann’s Whatever and I’m With Stupid, Rufus Wainwright’s self-titled debut, Evan Dando’s Baby I’m Bored, and Fiona Apple’s When The Pawn..., to name a few. To make a long story even longer, Brion has appeared as a guest musician for a heinously long list of artists, including Eels, Beth Orton, and Beck. Most recently, the Finn Brothers called upon Brion’s services. He appears on seven of the 12 tracks featured on Everyone Is Here, and is credited with co-production on two of those seven tracks, “Luckiest Man Alive,” and “Gentle Hum.”

On a poignant note, he also appears on the final and posthumous release of the late Elliott Smith, From a Basement on the Hill. When Smith made appearances at Largo, he would call on Brion for accompaniment. The club’s entrance now prominently displays a photograph of Smith’s beaming face, along with the caption, “Elliott watching Jon play.”

As a composer and arranger Brion has provided ambience for some of the more intriguing films of the last few years. Imagine how different (and probably lacking) Magnolia, Punch Drunk Love, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind would be were Brion not the man behind the curtain.

His latest release is the score to I Heart Huckabees - starring Jude Law, Naomi Watts, Dustin Hoffman and Lily Tomlin - features a performance by The Section Quartet. Lead violinist Eric Gorfain reflected on his experience working with Brion, saying, “In a way, Jon plays the studio like an instrument, as all good producers do, so that everything from the choice and placement of microphones are just as important as the musicians’ performances.”

A recent conversation with Brion revealed a man successfully working around the ironies and sacrifices inherent in creating through an unabashedly scrutinized medium. He also says “life force” a lot.

It occurred to me that you’ve been receiving a lot more press this year from Huckabees.

Yeah. Hollywood’s much more efficient than, say, record companies. Record companies don’t really bother to tell somebody that something is out. And I think the people who work for the film company, and the publicists who are hired are immediately very efficient.

There was talk that you were added to Huckabees fairly late. It seemed as though another composer had been hired and then asked to leave the project prior to your arrival.

I don’t know if that’s the case or not. Often musicians come in very much at the tail end of the movie. I know that David O. Russell had wanted me and just didn’t think I was available, which was kind of true at that point. When people were trying to find me I was in the middle of doing Eternal Sunshine.

Was he difficult work with?

No! Actually, he was a dreamboat, despite what I’m supposed to think of him. But then, of course, what I’m supposed to think of him is based on, you know - (Laughs) - articles written about him, which I’ve learned from experience is not the way to get to know people, especially articles about the creative process. I don’t think people always understand other people’s processes. The always see them as strictly neuroses. He came in every day, he was articulate, and he’s really fun to be around. We’ve become good friends. I actually can’t say enough about him.

You appear to have a reputation for being picky about the people you work with. Do you consciously work with directors who don’t interfere with your “sound”?

That’s not really what it’s based on. I pick people based on the quality of choices they make. In other words, if I see the film and like it, they must have made a lot of choices that I think are pretty good. Any of the people I work with are pretty good at avoiding clichés of filmmaking, so that already tells me there’s somebody interested in finding new things. And if you’re making a film, which takes so long to make, there are so many chances to flatten something out and make it homogenous, and they didn’t at all those opportunities. Which means they’re probably a certain kind of person, qualitatively.

That’s where the choice comes in, and if I’m right I want to know what the quality of interference is gonna be. You know? I expect the interference; it’s the director’s medium. And, in fact, I consider myself quite subservient to the directors I work with. That’s all the more reason why I’m gonna be picky. It’s like, if you’re gonna be the person in charge who’s gonna make all the final creative decisions, then I’m putting myself in your hands. They’d better be capable. That’s what I’m picky about, and then once they’re in, as far as I’m concerned they can tell me everything to do.

When creating music for a film, does a character’s expression evoke a particular sound for you?

Sometimes, but I think more than that is the fact that I think it’s the director’s medium, so I’m looking at the film both stylistically and what it feels like emotionally. I’m trying to look at what the director is trying to communicate. Individual performances, if they’re really great and full of nuance, of course influence what you’re doing. But I think I tend to think of it more character-wise than each specific section or second of the movie.

I don’t think I’m somebody who, second by second, is scoring the movie as much as I am in a broader, emotional, stylistic way. You know, here’s the sort of state the director would like you to be in while you’re looking at this. A context for what you’re seeing, juxtaposition for what you’re seeing when juxtaposition is needed. And a particularly good performance would really help, obviously, because it makes things more emotional, so it gives you that much more of an angle on specific emotion, which is nice to have.

Thankfully, once again, if you choose your director qualitatively, all the performances are going to have life force, because they already recognize that to begin with. They already have that talent, so in general, most of the stuff I get to work on is pretty consistently good in terms of performance.

Some have said that your work as a producer is ‘too precious’ or ‘too scientific’. Would you agree with that assessment?

Of course I would!

What do you think they mean when they use those adjectives?

I don’t know. I consider that quite derivative. What do I think they mean? I think they mean I haven’t got a clue of what it means to be a human or to listen to music, in which case I think I can very scientifically say “fuck you” to that. Is it too precious? Well, Christ, add “pretentious” to that! Get right in on it. Nothing is going to rock everybody’s world.

As far as it being too precious or scientific, no way. I think a lot of people are completely thoughtless, making thoughtless shit and putting it out to the world. Just the use of the word “pretentious” alone…I bring that up for a reason. I sort of feel that people’s fear of being called pretentious keeps people from doing anything individualized. People are so afraid of being looked at that way.

I also have big pet peeves about this whole notion of a division between heart and head, and that one is better than the other. It’s like they’re useless without each other, and what’s even funnier is we don’t know that there’s any division. We don’t fucking know shit. We don’t know why we’re here or what we are. We haven’t a fucking clue. And certainly, trying to judge others on a scale of how connected they are to one or the other? Good luck.

There seem to be many complaints about the current climate of the American music industry with regard to artistic integrity and creative ownership. Is there anything rewarding about it these days?

Certainly not as much as previously. It is a bad moment, though not just because of the industry, but I think it’s a bad moment because I don’t think there are a lot of great artists right now at this particular juncture. I feel a lot of people who short circuit themselves, who are also worried about the climate business-wise, I think make dumb musical decisions. We get bad moments every few years where there’s not too much to admire, and I think we’re in one of those right now.

We’ll get on the other side of it. A few things will come out that will be great and actually have some life force and humans will be intrigued by them. And then all the other little human sheep will run over and start doing whatever the initial creative people were doing. And at least at first it’ll be some sort of scene and have some sort of interest for some period of time. That’ll die out and we’ll go into another period like this. That cycle just always continues.

It’s just not a good moment right now and business-wise we’re not in the marvelous new system yet. It’s kind of like the old system is obviously dying, the rats are jumping off the ship, and any time anybody talks about the future it’s this marvelous, artist-controlled utopia. Speaking from experience, myself with artists, the last thing you want is an artist-run record label because none of us will ever call the pressing plant in time to get anything made. In truth, there’s always some need for somebody to take care of that stuff.

And let’s say the record companies were all absolutely vaporized as of this afternoon. There would be abject chaos in the entertainment world, and eventually somebody will walk up to the artist going, “You’re one of my favorite artists. Do you need any help?” And the artist will go, “Oh man, I just had to fucking make twenty phone calls today just to make sure some ditzy thing happened.” And the person will go, “Well look, I’ll just do that for you. For a percentage of what you’re making, I’ll do all that shit you don’t wanna do.” And they’ll go, “Yeah! Fuck yeah!” And the whole thing starts up all over again. I think it would be a kinder, gentler version because what happened is that the version we’ve had for the past thirty years has been too inflated, and it’s involved too many people. And I think it’ll be a lot more direct, sort of artist management that takes care of a lot of different jobs that used to be divided amongst thousands of people. But I’m not under the misconception that it’s the marvelous new utopia.

Are you working on material for a second album?

Yeah, actually as soon as I’m done with all these interviews I’m going right into the studio. I’ve had movies and production projects and everything under the sun that’s kept me away from doing my own stuff. Now I’ve actually got a little bit of time.

How much of that is completed?

The songs are pretty much done. I’m gonna go record it.

Is “Trial and Error” making an appearance?

No, that’s actually going to be on a record that hopefully – that’s another of many projects that have been…there’s always something boiling. That’s coming out on a thing with Grant-Lee Phillips. He’s sort of had a very busy year touring his own thing, so we had to put a project aside that we were in the middle of. And now I think he’s back from touring and he’s gonna have some time, so I can wrangle him back in. He’s been a very busy man.

With good reason.

Yeah, damn straight.

Why are your Largo performances predominantly solo, yet multi-instrumental, as opposed to having a band?

Because the two things I got super crazy bored with around the time I started the Largo gig were bands and solo performers. I don’t think my hatred of either could be higher. Guy on a stool with an acoustic guitar? Yikes. Gotta buy a shotgun and take him out. Two guitars, bass and drums that were wearing the right jacket for the six-month period, the right haircut, and “We’re new, man!” Your guitar’s a little distorted, you have a drummer playing a backbeat. No, it’s fucking fifty-year-old music. Stop acting like you’re some new agent for fucking social change. You’re the guy on the stool with an acoustic guitar, it’s just that you’re standing up and it’s amplified. Just admit it to yourself. Bands aren’t fucking cool gangs, we fucking should’ve lost that myth long, long ago.

So, there’s nothing exciting to me about either one. I was trying to figure out how to do something where I felt there was freedom that neither of those parties exemplified. I also knew there was this huge dichotomy of people who’ve grown up with rock music with this notion that soloing is self-indulgent. Well, no. Basically, there’s good music and there’s bad music. A lot of people who solo do just meander on and don’t offer anything up, and there’s nothing for your heart while you’re listening to it. Fuck that, you know? The whole thing’s gotta be adventurous, there’s gotta be some human life force in it. I’ve just developed lots of different means of operating. As far as I’m concerned, hopefully I’ve avoided both of those traps.

You’ve been playing pretty much every Friday night for eight years now, and there appears to be a pretty steady following, to say the least.

Yeah, and the nice thing is that there are people who’ve seen an astronomical number of shows. Another one of my big points was I hated set lists. I hated when I went to see an artist, and let’s say I had a great time, it was a great show. You call two friends and say, “You’ve gotta come see this, this is great!” You see the second show, they do the same set, you say, “Oh good, it’s as good as I remember it. Phew! They were just as good, my friends came, and now my friends like them too. I’ll go along with my friends when they bring their friends. Cool.” And then at the third gig you go, “This is the same set, they’re even practically saying the same things between songs. I never need to see this again.”

When I go see bands I like who’ve made a record that I love, and they play the record, it’s sort of like, “Well, I’m hearing the record louder and I’ve got people’s elbows in me.” You realize that people are more sharing the experience of, “Oh, I’m in a room with the people who made the thing I like.” But people aren’t ready to admit that to themselves.

A friend read me this thing from a Bill Graham book that I thought was really notable. He was describing a moment in the late sixties at the Fillmore when it changed from being about music to being kind of what we have now. And the way he described it was that he was at this particular gig, and the gig was shit, yet people were going crazy anyway. He realized it was no longer about the music and that people were celebrating the presence of the artist. I think that’s really true. It’s a big part of what the experience is for people as opposed to the artist being present.

People go to these gigs where somebody’s been on tour for six months playing the same fucking set all the time, play the songs the same way every fucking time. I’ve gone out on tours with people, and you just become a robot. That’s another big part about not having a set list at Largo. I’m gonna pull the rug out from under myself, so I am actually going to have to come up with the goods on the spot, and you as an audience are going to know that I’m having to do it on the spot. Because you know I’m doing that, you also know I’m going to fall on my face, and some things aren’t going to be as entertaining as others. But you’re going to see that there’s a constant search to find the good stuff.

Hopefully what people get to see at Largo is more – probably what happens in the studio when people are making their records that you like. You go through eight ideas. One of them turns out really well, two turn out okay. One’s okay, one’s ehh. Two are not so good, and one’s just embarrassing. And basically people put out one to three things out of every eight ideas they try. I guess I just decided to let people see all eight things, and we could all have a really enjoyable time, even when it’s sucking because that’s kind of funny. Everybody’s present when I fall on my face. I spend so much of my time laughing through so many gigs. I think that’s nice because I feel like the artists I like most often aren’t present when I’m at their gigs. I feel it’s the version of them they’ve had to become to tour and promote over and over again. I don’t need to see that. I have the records.

Are there plans to release any of the Largo performances on CD or DVD?

There always are. I never get around to listening through all those damn board tapes, and board tapes aren’t always reflective of the experience that happened.

Can I make a request?

Sure.

There was one night when you and Benmont Tench ended with a cover of “I’ll Be Back,” which I thought was magnificent.

The Beatles song?

Yeah.

Oh! Interesting. Okay, I’ll see if that surfaces. I’ve had a couple of different people who were going to be the people to go through and look at all of it, because it’s just boxes and boxes. One guy made his compilation of what he thought the good moments were, and it became obvious that, “Oh, okay - he doesn’t hear what it is I like about this.” Another friend did a great job, and I thought, “That’s good, that’ll make a good record, and it’s reflective of the experience.” And he was just plain too busy to do it. I don’t know, at some point I’ll find someone who has the ears and isn’t too busy. Or it’ll be one of those things if I go through a period where I’m not doing a zillion other things I’ll yank out the boxes and take it on as a full time job. It would probably take a couple of months just to go through all the tapes.

Send some over!

(Laughs) I’ll just put out boxes of board tapes for people to wean through.

Are you a mod or a rocker?

Neither. I don’t know if that’s a fair answer or not. Was I supposed to say I was a mocker? I’d have to say neither. Athough, I’d consider myself more of a rocker than most of the people who play rock music, even though I consider myself a jazz musician at heart who doesn’t play jazz. Both those things probably sound really confusing or evasive, but I actually meant them both. (Laughs)

Jon Brion has just been nominated for a Grammy for his score to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. His web site is at www.jonbrion.com.