Momentum Of Sound: An Interview with Michael Gira of Swans

I ask about whether he considers Swans as fitting within any aesthetic tradition(s). In addition to the artists previously mentioned, Gira cites “expansive psychedelic music like Pink Floyd, pre–The Wall era.” He also names CAN, early Kraftwerk and Popul Vuh as influences. “So a subtle amalgam of krautrock, blues and funk,” Gira says with a laugh.

He laughs quite a bit throughout the interview, and despite this being his fifth of the morning and not the last, he is kind, accommodating, and answers each question with respectful consideration. While many artists may be better off relying on someone else to represent them and explain their vision, I believe that only Gira is up to the task when it comes to his work. Evidence of this can be found in his note regarding To Be Kind’s creation and release on the album’s order-placement page on younggodrecords.com. Gira started Young God Records in 1990, and is directly involved with fan communication—even writing album press releases. I thank him, saying it’s great to be able to read a one-sheet without cringing.

“I’m glad you get that,” says Gira. “When I started Young God Records, one of the first things on the agenda was to get rid of this whole fucking bullshit press-release thing. This omniscient narrator talking about the virtues of whatever hack-ass band is out there—and just kind of say what it is, and don’t make preposterous claims. Trust that at least one out of every hundred music journalists is going to have a brain to be able make up their minds on their own.”

Moving forward, but remaining on the subject of communication—of the creative dialogue between Gira and the band during a song’s development, he says, again with laughter, that knives and other weapons are kept out of the room. Songs tend to begin rather simply, with Gira mapping the idea out on acoustic guitar—“or I have a groove,” he says. “Sometimes, it’s a finished song.” He mentions that the album’s title track is an example.

To Be Kind features many collaborators, as did The Seer. Regarding how Gira chooses which musicians to collaborate with, or who is right to guest on a song, he says it’s kind of random. The process usually begins with him “thinking about atmosphere, and hence, what instruments can make that atmosphere or feel,” he says. Sometimes, “instruments dictate the people,” but in other cases, someone like multi-instrumentalist Bill Rieflin “comes in after the basic kind of gist of the songs are on tape,” he says. “We’ll sit down, and just decide which one works, then he’ll come up with parts.” Little Annie’s vocal on “Some Things We Do” works quite well for what Gira says began as a “sort of light, cabaret art song.”

Another collaborator whose presence has been noted a great deal in the press is Annie Clark/St. Vincent. “I really wanted more female voices on this record,” Gira says. “[Her talent] was made available to me by John Congleton.” Congleton had worked with Clark in the past and recommended her. Cold Specks, who previously covered Swans’ “Reeling the Liars In,” sings on “Bring the Sun” with Clark.  “Bring the Sun,” which leads into “Toussaint L’ouverture” is the kind of song (or half of a song, depending on how one registers the transition) that the word “epic” would actually describe with great accuracy—an expansive, dynamic burst of proclamatory statements and extraordinary washes of sound.

A subject of interest to me was how an early professional background in construction and manufacturing/factory work may have shaped Gira’s approach to leading others in a band context. “Not very well. I’m kind of a tempestuous personality, although I’ve worked on it, and I’m not as bad as I was,” Gira says, whose father worked as a business executive. “He led people by being nice to them, getting them to want to contribute. I, unfortunately, in most of my career, have been the kind of person that barks at people—and that ugly aspect of myself comes out on occasion, still.” Gira’s voice and documents of experience/observation have been on record for several decades at this point. They include statements of disgust, frustration and anxiety—examples of which can be found over much of Swans’ early output—and loving dedications (“Song for a Warrior”) written in recent years. In reading about Swans over time and discussing their records with others, I’ve noticed that a large number of people tend to focus on the aspects of Gira’s work concerned with the harsher sides of the human condition (“Freak”), but there are moments of beauty (“A Piece of the Sky”), humor, or oddity—an example being the delivery of the “I’m just a little boy” line in To Be Kind’s “Just a Little Boy.”

Completing the insight into his moments of occasional ferocity, Gira says, “I’m aware of it, the band members are aware of it, and they tolerate it. … I guess I’m getting better, and try to lead now, and be part of the team rather than just screaming or something.”

To Be Kind was released May 12. I plan to dedicate the necessary hours to listening to the album, then finally hear music in person when Swans play Denver this September. When I mention—in the most positive sense possible—the seeming near-impossibility of fully “absorbing” the content of a Swans record within a short amount of time, Gira says, “I would hope that it’d absorb you.” I can’t cite many recent releases capable of doing so, but more than one of those I would name are Swans records.