Loud and Quiet presents Midnight Chats.
There's a few reasons I wanted the guest we have on this episode of Midnight Chats to come on. The first and most obvious one was that we're fans of Julian Baker and we're fans of her music. The second one was that last year I was lucky enough to travel around the Southern States of America, taking in places
like New Orleans, Austin, Nashville, Clarksdale, and Memphis. Beforehand, my preconceptions of Memphis were dominated by the city's well known cultural landmarks, so Graceland obviously BB King's Blues Club on Beal Street, Sun's Studio, but also Memphi. This has played such an important part in US history as well. From a personal point of view, I was fascinated to get to talk to someone from Memphis to find out what the reality of growing up there away from that stuff
is actually like. But also staying on preconceptions. As someone who counts famous introverts like Elliott Smith among her major influences and often gets described as a singer songwriter writing very personal material. Going into this conversation, I thought Julian might be quite softly spoken, possibly even a bit shy, but as you're about to hear, that's not the case
at all. She's eloquent, polite, honest, but there's also a real fiery passion and determination about her personality, her character,
particularly on subjects that she really cares about. It left me thinking that there will definitely be people listening to this who knowingly or unknowingly have an idea in their mind, a perception of what they think people alike from that part of the world, from the Southern States of America, And I think the way that Julienne talks about it, being a young gay Christian songwriter who is into hardcore punk as much as she is a band like Deaf Cab the QT serves as a reminder that we can't
generalize what a place is like from the headlines we read or the cliches that get recycled. It's rarely the complete picture of her place anyway. This was recorded just over a week ago. Julian came into our office here at Loud and Choiet in East London. It was the first stop on what was going to be a tour of Europe doing interviews about her new album, turn Out
the Lights Out. Later this month. Only a couple of years ago, she recorded her debut Album's Sprained Ankle and assumed that the audience for it would be basically her Facebook friends. So she's come a long way from those days. Just finally, I should remind you if you like our podcast, please do subscribe. That means you'll get every new episode of Midnight Chats published every fortnight on a Thursday at midnight. But on with the conversation. This is Midnight Chat's episode
thirty four with Juliane Baker. You've obviously been to Europe a couple of times now in the last few years. Does it still have like a charm and excitement leaving the States to come somewhere like London to talk about your music or play.
Oh?
Absolutely, I think that's never something that I'll grow used to. I mean so, especially because this is a press trip. I'm not actually playing any shows, and so it's almost more astounding that people care enough to talk to me about my music that there's an entire trip to Europe dedicated to just talking about the record that I've made, not performing or giving any three thing extra, which would be the crux of my occupation as it were. And I hope it's never like lost on me. I don't
think it ever will be. I don't think I have that kind of disposition.
Is this like the day one?
This is day one, not day one of press because I've done a couple of bone interviews stuff around this record. That's one thing that's really different about I can already tell the life quote unquote or whatever of this record is that when uh six one three one picked up and re released Sprained Ankle and then we started working with a publicist, it was sort of after the fact the record had already been released. There was no anticipatory element, and so everything that came was a surprise.
As it always is.
I'm always surprised that, you know, the music is still relevant, or you know, grateful and taken aback that people care enough about my music to talk to me about it. But this time there are interviews leading up to the release of the record and kind of building the anticipation for me of like, I hope that when this body of work is released that it'll be well received.
Do you have any idea what you're going to feel like after talking about yourself for the next five days?
Oh my gosh, it's I don't want to use the term exhausting, because I feel like that might accidentally convey
boredom or which is not the case. Like I am continuously aware of how blessed and fortunate I am that this gets to be my job, but I do try to give myself adequate perspective to my art, Like this trip entails a lot of discussion of me, and so the challenge is finding ways to turn the conversation not completely away from the record, but to find ways to situate the art that I make inside the larger context of the art that I like, the art that I admire,
the things that I think are socially relevant and pertinent, so that it does not become a sort of self aggrandizing exercise. Not in a like holier than that way, but just in a way that I feel like I would not be serving the record itself even well if I just talked about me and tried to perform these activities or interviews with only like accreditation or recognition in mind. I think that's not why I want to do interviews.
And I want to start by talking a bit about Memphis, because I visited there for the first time last year during a trip which took my wife and I from New York to Nashville, Nashville to Memphis, Memphis to Clarksdale, Clarksdale to New Orleans, and ended up in Austin. What struck me was the huge difference between those places. Memphis specifically, I found really fascinating, not just because of the landmarks that people know of, obviously Graceland and the Peabody Hotel. Ducks.
Did you see the ducks? Duck?
So that's like on my well, I'll let you finish, just to interject that it's so funny to me that piece of Memphis lore, the ducks that you know, performed a little walk around. But I was in Germany playing each other the first time I ever came to Europe, and for me, the ducks are cool, but they're like a kitchy event.
You know.
The top sites to see that's probably fifth on the list. And someone in Germany was like, oh, you're from Memphis.
Is that that place with the ducks?
And I was like, yes, how did you know this? I know, but it's crazy. Did you see the ducks walk?
We did? So for people that if this is making no sense of people, there's a hotel called the Peabody, famous place in Memphis, been there for a long time, and they have this very quirky tradition of they have some ducks in the hotel that live on the roof, and maybe once twice a day I can't quite remember, the ducks come down in the elevator in the lift
to the ground floor. Hundreds of tourists gather around. The ducks walk from the lift to the fountain, go in the fountain for a bit, then they turn around and they reverse the journey and they go back upstairs there trying.
To do this, and they're walked out by was the guy there with the duck master. The duck master different than duck commander.
Don't I actually don't know the different levels of.
Duck No duck. I'm pretty sure duck commander is like a bass pro shop like hunting thing. Oh okay, But then there's duck Master.
So it's done in this big ceremonial way. So the duck master does a bit of a speech and talks about the history of the Peabody. Then the ducks, as if they're walking, they actually walk on a red carpet, so celebrity ducks, and they make their way over to the fountain. Everybody applauds. It's such a surreal thing. I must admit I came away thinking, Okay, like did I enjoy that? I mean, I enjoyed the spectacle of it.
I was about to say the spectacle.
There's so many things in Memphis I think that are bizarre enough that you just want to witness the absurdity of the fact that it exists. But you were saying, so you saw many things in Memphis and what struck you?
Yeah, so there was so Obviously when people think of Memphis, they think Graceland, they think of maybe the Peabody Hotel. Maybe you've only just learned about that, but maybe you want to go and check that out. Then obviously Bale Street in BB King's Blues Club, and maybe if you're more into music, then like Sun Studio, places like that. But it's a city that's really characterized by its huge kind of historic landmarks, those places. What was the actual reality like of growing up in that city.
I think there's a duality to the city, but that those elements of the past, while they seem like kind of static fixtures of history, play into the locals conception of the city, right so I had never been to Graceland ever, you know, like growing up, I never went a single time. There's a thing called Graceland two, which is just small sidebar. The man who ran it was he actually passed a little while ago, but Graceland two
spelled too as in this is also Graceland. Was this bizarre little house owned by this man who just filled it with Elvis memorabilia. And it was like this informal kind of cult activity that we would all go to Graceland two and if you just knock on the door, and I think the thing was you showed up with a six pack of Coca cola, or if you don't the man at any hour of the night. I had friends that would go, like two in the morning, We'll invite you in and he will just walk you around
his home. It's just like a person's house, and he'll just show you all his crazy stuff there. But so there's a lot of like interesting dichotomy of Memphis where there's the normal thing and then the abnormal thing, as much as there are like quirky pieces of history there, like the Crystal Grotto, which is just like this weird grotto, or grace Land two, there's so much just unique about Memphis.
Do you know about Prince Manga. Oh my gosh, he's this citizen who runs for mayor, like with some regular that just will never win. He but he runs. I like to think that it's sort of like a he knows that he's crazy, Like he's in on the joke kind of trope where he tells people in press releases that he's here from another planet. He is an alien scent here, and he'll say things like if I get elected mayor, I will provide every citizen with an oozy
automatic weapon. And but also there's things like there was a painting ordinance past about like your house can't be certain colors, and you had a party where everyone brought paint and threw it at his house and made just this bizarre. But stuff like that happens in Memphis that seems like this bizarre like Garcia Marquez like magical, unreal story and it is one. And I think that this
is gonna sound cheesy or ironic. But there's something maybe I won't use the word magical, like mystic about Memphis that is lacking in some other cities that have a little bit more commerce, Like I think that there are other cities in Tennessee or just around the South that have amazing art scenes and a lot of music and commerce, and but in Memphis it's just small enough to be familial and just big enough to have resources to do
interesting things. But the primary differentiating factor in the art scene in Memphis to me is that, say, in a place like Nashville or Atlanta, there seems to be a lot more prevalent access to music and venues, and there's plenty of places to play, and so there can be the music kid lunch tables, like if you've ever seen SLC punk, you know, like this, oh you know that scene where it's like the new wave kids hate the hardcore kids, and the hardcore kids hate the punk kids
and the pub kids. But so it's like, you know, there's like the scream of house scene, and then maybe the DM scene, and then the pop scene and the country scene. And because of the surplus of resources, those people may exist within their esoteric sphere, but in Memphis there's it's getting revitalized, but only as a result of people saying we desperately need places to play, we need
a mid cap venue. We don't have a lot of outlets, and so all of these different genres and types of artists are forced to buy necessity work in like a cohesive unit. I feel that the scene there is not very competitive. It has to be collaborative because if it's not collaborative, no one will benefit from it. And so
that's the way I always grew up conceptualizing music. You know, we would play how shows or shows that art spaces where we play an indie rock set, and then we'd be opening for like a black metal band, and then there would also be a band on that show that sounded like just alt country. And that kind of diversity but mutual support I think showed me how necessary it is to gain perspective and insight from other people in
the worlds they live in. But there's also just a lot of love, like people that see the disparity between what we wish we could have resource wise in Memphis and what we actually have. But I just think that everybody putting so much of themselves into this basket of something we can all have together is you know, intrinsically Memphis.
Before I ask it a bit more about that, going back to the guy that runs for mayor, remind me of his name, Mungo.
No, oh, Mango, Prince Mango.
Prince Mongo. Have you heard of the Monster Raving Looney Party? Okay, So in the UK we have our major political parties, but alongside that there are other kind of small political parties, one of which is called the monster Raving Looney Party. And as you were talking about him just there, that reminded me of that. And these are people that generally run in elections, run for office, but in a kind of will often have fairly kind of daft policies and
also maybe wear fancy dress and things like that. So for example, you know, you might see some election footage of somebody being you'd be watching an politician wearing a suit celebrating their victory, and behind them there'll be a woman dressed as a tomato or it. When Theresa May got back in during the general election, the most recent one, there was a guy sort of dressed his second Lord buckethead and he had a huge bucket on his head.
He actually went and appeared on some US like talk shows after the event because the internet went absolutely bonkers over this this guy that turned up with a bucket on his head and it just hearing you talk about this guy reminds me of that, the kind of how even the most like serious of processes can be kind of the sprinkle a little bit of just surreal humor or madness.
Yeah, and I'd love to think that it is a humor and sort of a commentary on the system itself, that it's a farce intended to show the absurdity of the rest of the process, almost like modest proposal style, you know, like they don't actually mean this, But I think in some cases, I don't know, man, Prince Bongo might actually mean it. You might actually believe that everybody would be better off on planet Zorp or whatever.
You know. With Memphis, you discussed it there, like the how the city is evolving, What's what's a what does a person from Memphis call themselves?
Are there Memphisan?
Memphian sounds cool, right? What do Memphians think of the development and the regeneration or just new generation of other kind of comparable comparable cities, So somewhere like Nashville. So when I traveled from Nashville to Memphis, there seemed like there was a big difference because when you stood on the kind of hill looking down into downtown Nashville. It's just cranes. All you can see. Is this development work happening? They can't seemingly be building flats or whatever it is
apartments quick enough. I liked Nashville, but it felt very modern compared to somewhere like Memphis. Where Memphis felt like it had you got a real sense of history of the place, possibly a little bit more. I don't know if the word is real, but Memphis just felt like I had more character. How do Memphians feel about the development they see in the other big cities around them? And does it have I mean, you mentioned it there that the development of Memphis seeds to be coming from
within rather than external. Is that fair to say?
Yeah, I think that would be fair to say. That's a good way to put it. That Also, I don't want to relish and enjoy that you said Memphis seems more real than Nashville. So I've lived in both places. I moved from Memphis to around Nashville to go to school, and then I moved back home when I started touring, and now I've moved back up to live closer to my partner, and I enjoy both cities. Honestly, Tennessee natives,
I think will come to each other to rescue. But there's an interesting sibling rivalry between Nashville and Memphis, and I find that, first of all, Nashville, it's something like tripled in size in the last five years. People that have lived there for a long time always comment upon how the city is just unrecognized from five even ten years ago. And I haven't lived long enough there to
be able to compare, but I think you're right. Nashville is so much more modern, and it seems because it's commerce and industry based that it's very geared towards like young urban people. And gentrification is a problem everywhere, but particularly I think in Nashville, because you talked about the construction, and I gave like a grimace because I experience the repercussions of the construction every day when it takes like an hour to get two hundred feet on I sixty five.
But all these flats are being built, and I know in my heart, like all these flats are going to be built for the innumerous transplants, and then rent will not go down, like supply will increase, but demand is just going to keep increasing, and so the housing will not become more affordable, which makes me a little sad.
And I think, you know, it's largely because a lot of industries, particularly in music, like I heard that the Big Three are like moving to be more present there in Nashville, and there's just a lot of like music and like big music industry, like major label stuff going on there that I think draws more people to relocate there, since it's not quite a New York or La yet. And Memphis, I think there's a little bit of bitterness
because we feel neglected. We feel like we're you know, a decent size, like major city, and yet everything seems to come to Nashville. When people move, visit open businesses, it goes to Nashville, and Memphis gets forgotten. And so, you know, like I was saying earlier, with having less resources at our disposal as a city, I think everyone there in Memphis that doesn't leave it comes to the realization that if something is going to happen, it has
to happen utilizing just what we have. And so people in Memphis I think have this attitude that's very defensive and proud of like we have the Grizzlies there and their motto is grit and grind, because I think that the football team, oh, no, Predators. The Predators are a hockey team in Nashville and that's gotten really popular. But the Grizzlies are a basketball team and their moto is
grit and grind. I think a lot of people in Memphis identify with that idea of like there's no one that is going to or maybe there's not no one, but there's less people coming into Memphis externally pouring investment in and so I think that, oh gosh, she said, you know, like necessity is the mother of invention, Like having less to work with makes people more motivated to create something wholly and new or with whatever they have,
and sometimes that can be a blessing. And like the way you craft things or the way that things come about as a musical community or growing organically is a little bit more stable and more unique because it's not being constructed from an outsider's point of view of what's going to be theoretically lucrative and successful. It's just how things are happening naturally. That's most advantageous for the city.
I mean, we already talked a little bit about those places that people know Memphis for but presumably as a teenager writing your first songs or whatever, you weren't hanging out at Sun Studio. You were kind of in your own neighborhood. So what were the places that were there for you tell us a bit about the places that you were hanging out.
Well, one of the places that I feel like was really significant in my musical history was the skate part a skate park of Memphis is not there anymore. It got shut down. There's this whole thing about like some kid went in there and didn't sign a waiver or something, and then he got his thumb ripped off on the ramp and sued the skate park for a significant amount of money and then got forty k tattooed on the missing thumb, which we all thought was very Memphis and
very tasteless. But I don't know how true that is. That's just like the Midmath, which I think is like just fun. But when I was twelve, thirteen, fourteen, I used to go see hardcore bands and people play at the skate park. And the skate park used to be booked by this organization in Memphis called Smith's Seven, And
there's a whole bunch of local bands there. It was a real culty thing, but that had this unusual level of success because there would be local bands like you know, seven Dollars Socks or Wicker whomever, nights like these that would play and to hundreds of people, and because the skate park was a venue where national, like nationally successful but still esoteric kind of hardcore bands would play, would come like it gave it was a good middle rum.
Then after that shutdown, they started having shows at the house and it was interesting because it was still just his house, but the kind of recognition in the city that Smith's Seven still had. You know, I saw a citizen Turnover, Daylight bearver Shark played there, like, which are all kind of particular to a certain kind of you know,
musical taste. But that was cool too because the first time I ever went to a house show proper, you know, a house show where you're not a twelve year old that doesn't quite understand how house shows are, and you're like, there's a chip and dip platter at a punk show, right like now, that.
That was me.
That was me. I Like, we had a show, me and my drummer, Matt, And when I was like in middle school, and I was like, my mom made tacos, Like that's not how it's supposed to work. But I went to a proper house show for the first time at this place, and it was just wild to see these kids screaming into a microphone. And you know, they're not the way that I had imagined artists being. You know, they were people, they were my friends. I went to high school with them, and yet everybody knew the words
of their songs. And what's more, it's like they were on a living room floor. Even at the skatepark there's a raised stage, and so it kind of perpetuates that separation between performer and audience. You have your roles and there's a stratification that's a parent there. And I would go see these bands, you know, to where maybe they're not playing the FedEx Forum, but to me under Oath or whoever is like the idols of my world, and
they're separate from me, and they're inaccessible and untouchable. And then that's completely destroyed when you go see a house show and all of a sudden, I remember they played this like Manchester Orchestra cover and everybody grabbed the mic and was like standing around in a circle just singing into one SM fifty eight that was being held out, and it was bizarrely like a like a revival, like a hymn sing like just where nobody in particular is leading.
Everybody just decides this is the song we're gonna play. People from the crowd were like getting on the instruments and there was like no clear organization. Also, nobody was drinking or doing anything, which I've been to house shows where that's not the case, and that's fine, but it blew my mind even more that there was no substance that was instrumental in this behavior. It just people needed to scream and get their feelings out and have their
friends recognize their thing. And then those are where I
played some of the best shows I ever played. Imagine being fourteen years old and having someone stick a microphone in front of you and a room full of people say like, your voice is important and what that does for your validation and your musical confidence and your self concept, and for them to say, like, you don't have to be destructive to be a part of an aggressive music scene, Like you can make punk music that's just about your friends and getting through the challenges that you face, and
I don't know, I think that that really informed how I still regard music and the live experience as an exchange rather than a theatrical spectacle.
Skipping forward, make now you've performed with the likes of Paramoure. Last month you shared bills with hardcore band Still so, do you think those formative experiences are playing those shows mean that it's giving you a certain level of confidence to go and play to audiences that are varied.
There are like two components to how I want to answer that question, which I apologize for being so verbose, but it's like yes and no. Some of the best experiences I've had have been playing for crowds that do not seem like they would readily consume my music, but
it's also dispelled. You know, back when I was in the Star Killers and we made music that was somewhere between I don't know, Sunny Day Real Estate meets Circus Survive and also Wilco Like we were very we had a lot of interest, you know, but we would open for serious like punks who actually had grown up, you know, ten years before us and had way more quote unquote
cred than we did. Or you know bands that were actual metal bands, and I think these bands are gonna hate us, and they're gonna be like, get off the stage?
What are you?
Who put you on the show? And I remember one of the best experiences I ever had playing was this band called Run Forever from Pittsburgh and they were like, oh, we love you guys. I was like, really, because you guys are so cool and I'm so young and lame and my mohawk is so dumb compared to yours. And they ended up being like some of our best friends.
And that kind of started to dismantle this concept that, you know, the lunch table idea, that everybody stays in their musical lane and that there's no crossing those boundaries. And so by the time I was doing music full time, I was like, who cares put a DJ on a
metal show? No one's gonna care. I played a show with Touche and More in Anaheim a couple of years ago, and that was scary for me because I think growing up in Memphis was great, you know, because of what we've already talked about in the connection and confluence there. But I realize now having toured and done DIY tours, that you know, I booked in places I wasn't aware of the vibe that that's I was a little spoiled.
People are more sectarian in some places, and that's because they want to save space where they feel like they're going to get what they're expecting. And that's fine, but so I was like, I don't know how the scene
is here compared to where I'm from. I played my set, it was really quiet, and I thought everyone was bored, and then I went back and sat down at merch waiting for touche to go on, and this guy, this huge muscular guy and like a snap back and like a ripped off band tea came up and a great set and I was like, oh, thank you, you're six feet tall, like I was afraid everyone would be bored, and he said, nah, dude, honesty transcends genres. And that is one of my favorite pull quotes from any show
I've ever played. I was like, I did not expect to have this wisdom dropped on me at a two schet show in Anna I'm California by a dude wearing a harms white snap back, like I just did not, and it was cool, Like those things make me so happy and remind me that the core necessity, the thing that people cling to in that music that I did is its passion and it's neat, it's a brutal expression, and I think as long as there's that, as long
as there's that honesty and vulnerability, that's what people really cling to, you know. I mean, there are certain people that just want to hear an awesome breakdown and do like a scissor kick. That's me sometimes, but I think people are a lot more willing to give things a chance now. I don't know. I like that, I like playing varied shows.
What effect did it have on the way you write songs knowing that there was an audience waiting to hear your music this time round. With the first album it was out there, it kind of like gathered the life of its own, its own momentum. This time there's like a kind of a build up to it. And when you sat down to presumably write these songs, you knew that there was going to be a certain amount of people listening to them. So did that have any effect on the way that you wrote or possibly none at all?
I don't know.
I think that's another thing that I was hyper aware of while creating this record, because I didn't so I didn't like take two months off and sit down and say,
now I will write a record. I just accrue these songs as voice memos and various levels of completion, you know, during the tours that I've been on virtually since spring Ninkle has been released, and then I had some time last fall to kind of demo them out, and once I had demos of twenty a little over twenty songs, maybe so many, so I'm want a voicemamo, like one hundred and fifty or something, and it's like.
Kind of creative streak.
Dude. I was like crowded, like we went to a riot fest, and uh, I was just like crouched in a bathroom somewhere because I didn't bring my guitar, and I was just like and and then the bass part goes like this mmmm, like just trying to remember its song ideas, which is something that I started doing. This is just such a tangent. But I watched when I was like eleven, like a vlog of Immigan Heap talking about songwriting, okay, and she was talking about recording voicemamos
into her flip phone which dates the video. Yeah, it was like, that's a brilliant idea. I could save all my ideas in real time. One of these days I'll get like, you know, logic or something, But so I would. I would think for you know, possibly months about is this the best, most refined, final iteration of the song?
And I had so much more time to consider it as well as you know, I know that I have the investment of a listenership and the support of a label, and I have these tools at my disposal, and it made me want to do the best thing. Make the most ideal art, not make the art that everyone else would think was most ideal, but take the songs that I wrote and do my very best to make them
the highest versions of themselves. So that you know, these people, the listeners who have given me their time and who have valued my music and enabled me to live this life, would feel when I released another record that the record was worth the twenty odd dollars they spend at a show, was worth what they pay for a CD, because it effectively communicates that I put every part of myself and
all of my energy into this music. You know, I just don't want to give out something that's you know, subpar, not as in like the subject matter, but just in the execution. And so there was a little bit of pressure to perform for that. And it seems like admitting an awareness like that of a listenership or an audience is almost a taboo subject because there's artists who perpetuate this mentality that you can create art in a vacuum, that you can say, I don't care what anybody else thinks.
I make art for myself and myself solely. It is pure self expression and none can influence me. But I think, while that may be true, that's just not how I make art, and I can't admit that and be honest about it. Actually, last night I was reading this like article thing that Amanda Palmer wrote, and I thought she phrased it so well. She's like, people say it's bad to make art for others and that you should only make art for you, But I think I make art
for me for others. And I was like, oh, wow, that's what I've been trying to say in lengthy paragraphs put into one sentence, you know, like, I make art this pretty much one hundred percent autobiographical, but I want it to be worthful and able to be utilized by others and meaningful to them. And so it's not like I don't construct these songs with no listener in mind.
Final couple of questions as an artist, now, who's going to go and have to go and talk to people for the next week about the new record that you've made and yourself and inevitably be a bit asked about being American and all of the incredibly complicated and entangled issues that face America in the same that it's exactly the same in the UK, like the last couple of years, when you get asked general questions about America and the state of America and of being American, it is that
a difficult thing to really kind of convey because it's
so nuanced. It's a bit like when people when I was in America last year, obviously, the news of the UK leaving the European Union was big global news, and the first thing people would say to you if you got into a taxi or met somebody in a cafe was, oh, you guys hate Europe now, right, And you're kind of like, I could spend the next ten hours talking to you about this and how complicated it is, and how different strands of just how difficult this is, situation is, and
all of the factors that shape it. Is it a difficult thing to answer questions about being American and all of the various issues that face the country right now.
Oh man, Well, I'm working on many things as a person and as a citizen. And wow, that sounds so press kitty response, But it's because I'm buying myself time to try to say the most articulate thing. I'm working on not issuing difficult topics with people because I am a person of very intense political beliefs, which, like any of my close friends, I'll tell you to the degree
that it's annoying. But I am also a super diplomatic person by nature, and I feel like I don't want to like argue I don't see the productivity of hatefulness
within a discussion. But I'm trying to work on just being more vocal about things because since you know, even before the most recent election, far before that, it just started to sink in how necessary and crucial it is to be able to use your voice or any platform that you have to promote the ideologies that are most just and to try to bring people's attention to things that are important and trying to avoid controversial issues or you know, saying that I don't want to talk about
the state of American politics to me feels like an easy way to skirt around difficult issues that ultimately is only something to be done to preserve my own comfort. And there are so many people who are not privileged enough to ignore or disregard or check out of politics because politics is the is, you know, part of their
lived experience. They cannot depoliticize themselves, and I can't, like, you know, I'm speaking about obviously like people of color and immigrants, and I benefit from an immense amount of privilege because I'm just a white person and like as a queer female, Like, that's something that's not visible immediately to people, depending on what your status on flannel is. That was a joke. I'm sorry, It's not immediately visible
to everyone. And so I understand that I'm afforded a level of like safety and refuge from I can choose to engage somebody about my politics, but I don't have to, but I would.
Rather do it.
You know, I'm not annoyed when people ask me about American politics. I went to Australia last November, and when we would do interviews, it was like the inevitable question.
So the election, huh, let's just talk about it.
And I think that I welcome those things because they give me a chance to, you know, as I was discussing earlier, to use the platform I've been given to address and really grapple with issues that need to be talked about that cannot be ignored. And I would rather do that than tell you my top ten favorite places
to eat in my city. I'll do that later. I would rather say, like, there's some really not okay things going on in America and I know that, and it also gives me a chance to show hopefully that like not every American person is the way perhaps you perceive them to be, and that there is a strong resistance to the conservative and potentially hateful mentality that's you know, cropped up and highlighted by the media in America unfortunately.
But you know, that's something that became aware to me like almost instantly on the last record, like now that I have a chance to talk about it, you know, Trump was not at that point president, but it still was like sinking into me that one of the best things about any level of recognition is the ability to use these moments as a tool for discourse about things that have you know, that have to do with more than just Julian Baker and Julian Baker's cool or uncool music.
You know, like I just try to listen more, talk less, talk about the things that are important as much as I can, and let myself shrink, you know, in the conversation so that other things can be brought to light. Hopefully that's what I'll have a chance to do.
Midnight Chats is a Loud and Quiet podcast production by Emma Snook Music courtesy of gold Panda. Search Midnight Chats on iTunes for more episodes and to subscribe. For more information, visit Loud and Quiet dot com.
