Josh Ritter: Growing Wings
By: Julie Simmons |
Tuesday January 18, 2005 |
| If the young Josh Ritter hasn't become aware of the power he possesses, he will in time. For now, Ritter is a migratory, free spirit and the pilot of his own dreams who longs for an adventure that, with age, will bring wisdom. |
| When I first spotted folk artist, Josh Ritter, he was talking on his
cell phone in the doorway of a dank bathroom at Chicago's Park West
Theater. I was unmistakably poised to interview, yet when he saw me,
his face illuminated and he waved enthusiastically as if we were old
friends. Quickly, he excused himself from the call so we could talk.
From that encounter, I quickly concluded that Ritter has one of those
magnetic personalities; one that overflows with a genuine agape love for
strangers and, as a result, is easily misinterpreted by those hungry for
warmth and affirmation. His music shares this same intimacy. If the
young artist hasn't become aware of the power he possesses, he will in
time. For now, Ritter is a migratory, free spirit and the pilot of his
own dreams who longs for an adventure that, with age, will bring wisdom.
Hovering somewhere around his mid-20s, Ritter's youth is disguised by a frazzled beard that stretches down the length of his face. He's tall and lanky, wearing a dark cotton suit that appears to be one size too large like a child playing grown-up. Though his personal past is not far behind him, he references it in songs. In "Wings," he talks about the outskirts of Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, where he grew up. Ritter confesses, " I hope that in my music, some of what I appreciate about the place comes across." While the narrative voice in his music gives a slight nod to an autobiography, Ritter seems most comfortable defining himself by first describing those who preceded him; starting with his parents then eventually branching off into distant relatives and finally, historical literary icons that have touched him. Ritter's parents are neuroscientists. While he chose not to pursue this career, his parents' studies have impacted his personal lifestyle, especially while touring. Ritter enthusiastically summarizes his parents' studies while seated just a few feet away from a platter of fresh vegetables: "My parents specifically deal with appetite and how people and animals choose what, how and why they eat. Obesity is such a huge problem in the States, but people have (or have lost) the ability to choose what they need in the right proportions of carbohydrates and fats and proteins. Let's say you put out a bowl of pure protein, a bowl of pure oil or fat, and a bowl of flour (a pure carbohydrate) for your dog. The dog will mix exactly the right proportions. The problem is that with cookies, the ratio is completely haywire. Cookies have an enormous amount of fat and carbohydrates and very little protein. Why humans choose taste over this instinctual moderation, no one knows yet. I think neuroscience and biology are like space, there's so much to know. I just try to eat as healthy as possible on the road. I started running and training. One of my goals is to run a marathon; the other is to write a book. I'm training for a marathon right now because it seemed to be the easier one to do." Beyond his immediate genetic inheritance, Ritter demonstrates an appreciation for his genealogical past. He explains, "Looking at your past tells you about what you're interested in about yourself. It's like asking somebody what historical figure was born on your birthday. People tend to remember the ones that were significant to them. For me, Samuel Taylor Coleridge is the one I remember." Ritter is caressing the air with his hands. I imagine that each long finger is a magic wand capable of conjuring up apparitions in the space between us. He is steadily walking away from the certainty of science and instead, broaching on supernatural topics. I watch his eyes dart above our heads and wonder if he's tracking some floating debris in his eyes, plotting for a mosquito or if he's concocting a very entertaining tale for me. He continues, "My family has a very traceable past. My grandfather's family came to America in 1741 and my grandmother's in 1742-- same boat, different trip. I think there's a shared experience that I definitely feel in my family -- especially when my mom's side came across America along the Oregon Trail. Maybe this is getting cheesy but in my line of work, we don't necessarily have homes or places that we sink our roots into. So, in a way, being a musician is a lot like being a pioneer." Ritter has played the role of an American frontiersman as well as an innocent abroad. After growing up in Idaho, he attended Oberlin College in Ohio before moving to Boston where he became legendary in college towns in the northeast. While on the east coast, Ritter made writing and recording songs a full time job. He advises: "I think the most important thing for people starting out is to write and perform like it's your job no matter where you're performing. I started at open mic. I also don't believe in sending your work out. Let people find you. You don't want to go to a record company begging. The record company will come around when you need them to and by then, you'll know what you want." Ritter produced and released his debut album Golden Age of Radio on a paltry budget. From there, he was invited to tour with The Frames in Ireland where he achieved cult status. Then, as he predicted, Signature Sounds (based in Nashville) approached Ritter to help record his 2003 LP which later became Hello Starling ; a critically acclaimed album in Ireland as well as in the US. That night, at least half of the songs performed were from Hello Starling . Slow, acoustic ballads like "You Don't Make It Easy Babe" and "Wings" caused couples to slide to the corners of their seats, huddling for security. In between songs, Ritter flashed a Messianic smile and delivered comical monologues about his awkward beard, contracting a fever after being exposed to a monkey and the large empty floor space in front of the stage he described as "a junior high gymnasium." Fortunately, the strength of his charisma mimics the strength of his album. During the first few chords of "Snow is Gone," a man in his mid-30s stormed the dance floor and started wiggling unapologetically with delight like Napoleon Dynamite. As the venue's security timidly reached for their flashlights and walkie-talkies, dozens from the audience flocked to the floor to dance. Ritter smiled graciously, his backing band played vigorously. With plans to produce another album in March 2005, Ritter is working once again, composing music on the road. He reports that the upcoming album might well reflect the tone and feeling of an author he's been reading as of late. Ritter: "I think that a lot of Mark Twain stuff I've been reading, like Letters from the Earth, will impact the new album. Twain was writing this during the time of the [intervention] in Cuba. Teddy Roosevelt was a real imperialist and Twain was an anti-imperialist. The veterans of the [Spanish-American] War were saying, 'we did not fight for an empire.' I don't ordinarily like to write political stuff but I think that message has a lot of resonance with what's going on today." Suddenly, using the stiff, fleshy heel of his hands, Ritter propelled himself off of the couch and swung over to a duffle bag behind me. He reached in and extracted a small, soft, leather-bound book with a tassel flailing like the last plastic streamer from a bicycle. Returning to the couch, he opened his journal before me. The pages opened irresponsibly and I spied them for any discernible word the way a boy looks for accidental cleavage. Ritter swiftly compressed the pages, revealing only the inside cover and that thick, first page nobody writes on except to record a true sage's wisdom or a cell phone number. Positioned just above center of that ivory colored page was a handwritten quotation pulled from Twain's book, Life on the Mississippi. Ritter recited passionately, "He would lie down and sleep and leave me there to dream, the years had not slipped away, that there had been no war, no mining days, no literary adventures that I was still a pilot, happy and carefree as I had been 20 years before.'" Then, his softly spoken words dissipated into ambition, "If a record could be about something like that…" |
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