The Elected: Time Off Will Be Worth It

Refreshed.

Rejuvenated.

Excited.

Those adjectives best describe how Blake Sennett sounds during our conversation about his new record Bury Me in My Rings, his first new music from The Elected since 2006’s Sun, Sun, Sun, and first since the hiatus of his other band, Rilo Kiley—whose status, as he bluntly described it, is “in the morgue with a toe-tag on it.” No matter, though; this isn’t really about them; for though Bury Me in My Rings‘s title stirs up a death imagery, the actual record is a story of the renewal of a young man’s vows to his muse. While his previous two Elected albums (released by the esteemed Sub Pop) found him in good company with then label-mates The Shins, Band of Horses, or Rogue Wave, his style has matured into a more contemporary, upbeat, poppy style that retains some of those familiar embellishments, all the while highlight a definite artistic growth. Perhaps that’s due to his recording the album as a virtual solo record; perhaps it owes to his desire to make music his way. Whatever the case, the resulting album—and the tale of how it came to pass—is a reminder of the struggles of a talented artist struggling to find himself, and the rewards of making music with no other expectation than to make music.

Big Takeover: I read that Bury Me in Rings just happened organically, that you walked away from music for a little while.

BS: Yeah, I did. I had spent the last ten years of my life making music, and as it went on, and the dream became more fulfilled, the enjoyment of it was less fulfilling, and it didn’t seem right to me. That shouldn’t be the case when you’re making art. The friends I had in the band and that I worked with, we all started to grate on each others’ nerves, and I started to think, “Man, this isn’t right.”

BT: So making music had become your day job?

BS: It wasn’t a day job; well, it had a sense of that, sure. The way I see it, making music went from a dream to an obligation. I don’t mind obligations, but if it makes your relationships and work suffer, it makes you suffer. It felt like we were no longer coming from the same place like we’d come from the beginning. I wanted to take a step back and examine, why. I wanted to see if it was just something wrong with the paradigm, or if there was something actually wrong with my life. I took a step back, I reexamined, and thought about some different things. When I was a teenager, I wanted to be a movie director. I thought, “You know what, I’m gonna see what that feels like.” And I did it! (Beams) I made a short film, and I loved it, and I loved the process of making it. Then I wrote a feature, I got some great people involved, and I was excited about that. All the while…I think I did miss music; I did know how to make it and I knew the process behind making it, because I’ve been making music for a long time now. But making a film, it was different. The way I saw it, I was doing something that was different, and it was good. I think one of the perils of my own brain is that I think in a singular way; like, I’ll think that I’m a musician, or I’ll think I’m an actor, or I’ll think I’m a director, and part of the process for me was learning that I’m not any of those things. I’m just a person alive in the world who chooses to do those things from time, and that I don’t have to say, “I am a writer” or “I am a musician” or even, “I am an artist.” I’m just someone who can do these things. My friend Jason Cupp had been calling me up, insisting that we work on something musical, and one thing led to another, and we made a record.

BT: When you stopped making music, did you stop playing and writing all together, or were you still fooling around with it from time to time?

BS: Pretty much, yeah. I stopped altogether. You know, I don’t think I even touched my guitar for a year or more. I just put it in storage and let it gather dust.

BT:When Jason called you up, what was the moment that you thought, “I want to do this again?”

BS: Hmmmm…That’s a good question…I’m not sure…. (Pauses) We started working on songs, and it was fun. I don’t know…I don’t think I thought about it in terms of a process. I know we had recorded a few songs and I had passed them onto my management, and they said, “Wow, this is really great,” and we talked about it and we sort of decided, “hey, I’m gonna make a record! It feels good, it feels right, and there is no pressure on me to do so.” It felt better than it ever has ever, and I wanted to pursue at least making a record, not feel miserable, not doing what others want me to do or having to live up to the expectations of others. I had a chance to do something I really wanted to do in my own way for the first time in ages. I didn’t have a moment where I said, “I’m going to make a record again,” it just sort of sneaked up on me that I was making a record again! (Laughs) I didn’t have a label, so my manager, he kind of shopped it to a few, and Vagrant was one of the first, they really liked it, so we went with them. I guess I was having so much fun but I didn’t want to actually commit to making a full-length record until I had someone who would be willing to commit with me! (Laughs)

BT: The song “Babyface” was the first single—when I heard it, I was taken by how it’s a little poppier, and has a little more of an obvious groove, and doesn’t have so much of the 1970s LA, singer-songwriter rock feel that Me First and Sun, Sun, Sun had.

BS: With this record, I tried not to be self-conscious at all. I just tried to make what was meaningful to me at that time and in that moment. “Babyface,” it’s true, it is more contemporary, and it felt right. I was completely unself-conscious. Because it felt right to me, and it seemed like a natural progression, it was a great feeling to feel. That’s the great thing about being an artist; you change. I’m a little bored with singer-songwriter stuff as a listener, so I didn’t want to make a record that was like that. I just kind of went where the interstate took me.

BT: The one other thing I took away from the record is that it’s a happier experience. Not that the other were depressing, but the songs have a vibe that’s sunnier.

BS: I think that’s true. I enjoyed it. I didn’t have the specter of Rilo Kiley hanging over me, I was just doing something for me. I didn’t have to think about other things. There’s a presence that it was nice to be away from. I think what I’ve learned from my last few records—I didn’t enjoy them. I realized that in the world of possibilities, your may do well, your record may do shitty, but the one thing you are guaranteed is the process of making it. It’s gonna happen either way. You may to play to three people at a show; you can’t control that. But you can control your process. I was really mindful of that. If it wasn’t enjoyable, if it wasn’t fruitful, I’d stop that song, throw it away, or stop recording that day, even. I have my own home studio and I just allowed myself to be free.

BT: Barsuk Records just released a ten year anniversary vinyl version of Take-Off and Landings….

BS: (Impressed) Wow…ten years! Yeah, I guess it has been. I have very fond memories of those days. They were the best! I think those days were great. You start a band because you want to be a part of a team, a group, strength in numbers, and adventures. At the time, when you have no success, and it’s you against the world, those feelings are stronger and more profound, when you look back. Without romanticizing it, it was fun, it was exciting, there was no cynicism.

BT: It was the same kind of feeling you described from when you went from making music to making film, going from being a child actor to a musician, in a world you hadn’t experienced, and being excited about the unknown.

BS: That’s a great way to put it! When we started, there were no expectations, there were no ideas of what to do. We had no previous failures to compare it to. That doesn’t mean that later times weren’t so great, but it started to get ugly, and life is too fucking short, and you need to have at least some level of enjoyment in what you do. Otherwise, why do it? Grinding five days out to get to two? There’s something wrong with that.

BT: I have friends who work with major label bands, and I worry about them sometimes. Even though it looks like they’re having a fun time, they were getting perhaps 4 to 5 hours sleep. Putting in eighteen hour days doing music business, it’s a lot of pressure and a lot of work. Not many people see that side.

BS: Totally, totally. Choosing to make art is so hard, it’s best to just only do it if you enjoy it. Look at it like this; if you find yourself saying, “TGIF!” and you don’t work there, you probably need to get a new job! (Laughs)