The Philosophy of The Decemberists

 The Philosophy of the
Decemberists<http://www.relevantmagazine.com/culture/music/features/25122-the-philosophy-of-the-decemberists>
 Laura Studarus

[image: Decemberists]

Lead singer Colin Meloy talks belief, politics and making people care about
your relationship with your mom.

Film director Shekhar Kapur (Elizabeth) gave a TED lecture on the power of
storytelling, saying, “We are the stories we tell ourselves.” This
philosophy has its holes when you try to move from mere affirmation to an
attempt at actual transformation. Yes, people can boost their
self-esteem—but positive affirmation alone can’t turn someone into a pirate,
an old-fashioned gangster or a dream architect. Unless, of course, you’re
Colin

Meloy, lead singer and lyricist for The Decemberists.

Meloy has etched out a name for himself since The Decemberists’ first EP, *5
Songs*, debuted in 2001. The six-song collection could best be called
quirky, but it was a modest beginning. Trapped in a whale? Transforming
spouses to birds? Just another day at the office for the Portland-based
quintet, which also includes Chris Funk (multi-instrumentalist), Jenny
Conlee (keys/accordion), Nate Query (bass) and John Moen (drums).

Despite his band’s larger-than-life appeal, Meloy—who studied writing at the
University of Montana—sees The Decemberists’ mission as a simple one:
communicating meaning through common themes, no matter how bizarre they
might seem. “If you’re writing a memoir and you’re talking about your
relationship with your mother, the reader doesn’t care about your
relationship with your mother,” he explains. “The reader cares about their
relationship with their mother. So it’s important if you’re writing in
anything from your own mind, you feel like people will connect with it, that
it’s important, the voice is open-ended enough that people will be able to
apply their own experience to it.”

The band’s previous albums have risen above the indie rock fray with
unapologetic use of banjo, mandolin, hurdy-gurdy and the good ol’ fashioned
17-minute epic single, all laced with liberal dashes of SAT-level
vocabulary. Even while mining the most basic of human emotions, The
Decemberists have taken pleasure escaping the dregs of reality, creating a
space where the term “geek” isn’t derogatory—it’s the highest form of
praise.

Though, if one is to look at the album as a direct indication of Meloy’s
day-to-day life, very little could be determined on a surface level. The
36-year-old admits to a significantly more pastoral existence than his
perpetually conflicted characters. “We’re [Meloy and wife Carson Ellis] up
in the woods a bit, backing up against this 5,000-acre city park in Portland
called Forest Park,” Meloy says. “Three or four days out of the week I go
for, like, an hour- or two-hour-long walk in the woods. It’s been a nice
meditative time.”

Meloy also keeps busy by spending time with his son, Hank, who was born
around the same time he was writing songs for their major-label debut, *The
Crane Wife*. Already, Hank is showing signs of his father’s love of
storytelling. “He’s pretty fascinating,” Meloy laughs. “He doesn’t like to
be read to, oddly enough. We used to read to him, but he started reading
very early and now only likes to read to himself. D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek
Myths is kind of a perennial favorite. It kind of runs the gamut.”

This may sound like the trappings of a bygone era, an artist seeking the
solace of nature for inspiration, cloistered alongside wife and child. But
Meloy is neither a Luddite, nor prone to pronouncements about “the good old
days.” Able to joke about Henry David Thoreau in one breath and ponder
social networking in the next, he comes across as a latter-day Renaissance
man. “I’m still trying to figure out the benefits of managing your personal
relationships through social networking. Crazy times we’re living in!” he
laughs. “I think we’re establishing these relationships with people where in
some ways [we’re] very superficially connected to them, and yet we may know
the intimate details of their lives and completely miss out on some of the
larger picture changes.”
Stories Give Meaning

Though new album *King Is Dead* isn’t as sprawling as previous efforts, it’s
still a Decemberists outing—complete with the trademark mix of anachronisms
that allows Meloy to name-drop both chewable Ambien tabs and old-fashioned
gangs in the course of the same album. “I still feel like I’m trading in
archetypes a lot. ‘Down by the Water,’ the idea is a gang coming into a
resort town for the summer and the heartbreaks that occur in the wake of
this transient population taking over the town,” Meloy says. “I feel like
it’s not necessarily anchored to any time or place.”

Though *King* is not a concept album, Meloy doesn’t deny an overall guiding
principle. “I think every record should have a theme or some sort of concept
that ties the songs together. I think even if there’s not one, people will
apply one to it. Any kind of body of work typically works that way,” he
says. “I think our brains are just kind of wired that way.”

A recurring fascination with nature has been consistently woven throughout
The Decemberists’ work. The themes of old and new, of man and nature, play
heavily into the new album. In some tracks, nature gets the better of
man—particularly the apocalyptic image-heavy “Calamity Song,” about two
lovers in “the war of End Times.” “I was poking fun at the romance of
disaster that you sometimes see in Christian fundamentalism,” he says,
citing a famous politician as the source.

“Sarah Palin saying how Alaska will be the final paradise once the lower
United States succumb to earthquake and flood, [and] people will make their
way to this promised land of Alaska. I always thought it was fairly funny
and an interesting view of what the End Times would be. I think of ‘Calamity
Song’ as being as outrageous of an exploration of disaster as I could
muster.”

But doesn’t this sound like another—albeit more specific—biblical prediction
of the time to come? Meloy—an avowed atheist—disagrees. “I feel like if
you’re trying to get any sort of Christian parables out of any of these
songs, I think that whatever allusions I make tend to be pretty secular,” he
warns, anticipating this line of questioning.

Earlier in the conversation, he declares his favorite albums are those where
the listener is allowed to bring his own interpretation to the table.
Perhaps the same can be said for Meloy’s personal creed. “I tend to think of
morality as being fairly relative. I think trying to pin something as being
absolute, I think that, in itself, is a flaw of human nature—looking for
absolutes,” he says.

So, does Meloy hold any unwavering personal beliefs? “I think we’re looking
for something that’s cut and dry, something that can be easily digested and
easily taught,” he reflects. “I tend to think of morality as something
that’s very relative, depending on your political outlook, your spiritual
outlook. I think it’s in bad faith to think that what we might consider to
be an absolute, then if it’s not seen that way by someone else then by
definition it is not a moral absolute.”

Of course, Meloy isn’t without opinions. “I’ve done my fair share of
political benefits and trying to highlight things I think are important,” he
notes, but adds: “I wouldn’t call myself an overly political or socially
active person.”

Instead, Meloy’s views play out in The Decemberists’ work—much of it dealing
with the issue of corruption leading to downfall. Perhaps most notable is
the “16 Military Wives” music video, where the leader of a school’s Model
United Nations (played by Meloy) imitates a human-rights bullying campaign
on the student representing Luxembourg—all in the name of America.

It may come as a surprise that despite appearing at campaign rallies for
now-President Obama, Meloy is not particularly idealistic about the current
administration’s work to date. “I’m sure most supporters of Obama, we’re all
scratching our heads right now,” he says. “I would definitely count myself
among the former Obama supporters who are a little disappointed that the
change that was being promised is not the change we’re seeing.”

Meloy’s music backs up this view. There are no all-powerful heroes in
Decemberists’ tunes—just people doing their best in extreme circumstances.
“I think of all the characters that pop up in the songs, I think of them as
being fairly dynamic—not necessarily good, but not necessarily evil,” says
Meloy, reflecting on his collection of guises in song.

“I think the characters I most connect with are all very conflicted and make
poor decisions or are tragic in some way,” Meloy admits. “But in the end I
would hope they would be fairly sympathetic.” If the characters are the
stories he tells himself, then Meloy seems prepared to weather life’s
storms—no matter what metaphors the winds might blow his way.


Johne Cook
| http://raygunrevival.com | http://authorculture.blogspot.com |*
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