Strand of Oaks
Motorco Music Hall, Durham
“Sorry I’m a bit late. Some people say I have the gift of gab.” This is how Timothy Showalter begins our interview, apologizing for calling fifteen minutes late. Recently, his days are full of back-to-back interviews to promote his new album, Eraserland, and its attendant tour.
His charisma, apparent the instant he opens his mouth, makes it impossible to be upset at his minor oversight or his estimation—or the estimation of “some people”—that Showalter can talk. He answers each question with an earnest, headlong word salad that’s somehow not obtuse. Instead, it demonstrates his willingness to offer the most honest answer he can.
Showalter has been making music as Strand of Oaks since 2008, spending the first half-decade of his career in relative obscurity until breaking through with 2014’s HEAL and its first single, the stomping, euphoric treatise on youthful yearning, “Goshen ‘97.” With Eraserland, an album that he readily admits almost wasn’t made, Showalter resumes his place as a rising star in the pantheon of songwriters who blend classic Americana with searching, scenic indie rock and stone-cold jams.
Recently, the INDY spoke with Showalter about how Eraserland came to be, surrounding yourself with good people, and how it felt to make a record with My Morning Jacket.
INDY: Tell me about the new record.
Timothy Showalter: Well, it’s everything I guess I’ve been working on for my whole career. And luckily, it happened. Which is kind of strange to say because I wasn’t sure if I was going to make another album. In my past, I’ve always been the cheerleader that gets everything going. But this time, it was the opposite. I’m fortunate to have friends that are in bands, like My Morning Jacket and Jason Isbell. They came to my aid and were the ones who set it all up.
How so?
Well, they knew that I was pretty sad and didn’t want to make music anymore. Carl [Broemel, of My Morning Jacket] wrote me out of the blue saying that if I ever wanted to make music together, he’d be there. And I wrote back saying thanks, and that I didn’t know. We didn’t really get into anything, but then, six hours later, my manager called me and was like, “Hey Tim, are you making a record with My Morning Jacket?”
I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about, and he said that there was studio time booked and people were flying in. I was flabbergasted, but unfortunately, I had zero songs.
Right. So go back to what you were saying before, how you thought you might be done making music.
Strand of Oaks is not an industry. It is my job, but it’s something that only exists because I have to believe in it. And I didn’t believe in it anymore. I kind of lost faith in myself, and if that happens, it’s not like I’m going to go through the motions. I mean, the first line of the record is, “I don’t feel it anymore.” And that’s not a throwaway line.
And then I got the news that we were going to do the record. As sad as I was, you don’t turn down the opportunity to play with [My Morning Jacket]. If this option is presented to you and you have any capabilities left, you rise. Luckily, I like the pressure, and I like being active and engaged, so I answered the call. I was like, “Shit. I gotta write songs now. And they gotta be good.”
Because I wasn’t living in my head, I was able to free myself from those expectations and write the most close-to-my-heart songs I’ve ever written. And because I had these incredibly arrived bands of musicians and people, I somehow sounded more like Strand of Oaks than I ever thought I could.
How did Jason Isbell get involved?
I’ve known Jason for years. He’d crossed paths with someone I knew and told them that he’d love to do anything on it, to just be a part of it. All you have to do is watch one guitar solo from Isbell to realize that this is a once-in-a-lifetime talent. So instead of having him sing harmony, I wanted him to play the most off-the-wall solo he’s ever recorded.
And there is a local Durham element to this backing band, correct?
Yeah. We have the rhythm section from Mount Moriah. It’s always good if rhythm sections know one another. It adds that familial element to your band. And they’re just good, good people.
There have been so many reminders this year, sometimes poignant, sometimes gentle, that say, “This is what you do. You need to approach it again with a new light and better intentions, and it will reward you back.” And I need to be aware of that more than like, “Oh shit. Am I selling this show out, or am I getting bigger?” Because those are empty pursuits that might reward you in the second you’re doing it but don’t equal a better life.
What equals a better life for you?
You need to have a good soul to make good music. The same can be said about playing concerts. You can’t choose your fan base, but my fans are all people I’d hang out with. I feel better when I go on tour because I’m just meeting people, seeing people. It fills me with a lot of life.
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