Joel Thetford’s voice catches you right away. From the start, you know this guy was born to sing a country song. He has a new album coming out on April 25. You can pre-order, and get a couple of songs, now.
The album features a murderer’s row of musicians from Portland: McKay Belk on pedal steel, Matt Robbins (Murcielago, King Memphis) on guitar, Clara Junken on backing vocals, the Martelle Sisters on fiddle and Mandolin, Ben Cosgrove on keys, Ian Riley (SeepeopleS, Ghost of Johnson City) on bass, and Dan Capaldi (Sea Level, SeepeopleS) on drums. John Wyman produced and recorded at Halo Studios; David Collins mastered the record in LA.
Joel and I got to chat about coming to Maine from Texas, his songwriting process, and finding the emotions in the story of a song.
RLR: When I first heard “The Outer Bank,” I thought ‘where did this guy come from?’ and then I found out: Ft. Worth, Texas and it made a little more sense. But how did you end up in Portland?
J
T: I moved up here for love, for a lady. She’s from Maine originally and we moved up in 2005. Things didn’t work out between us. It was a phone call with my dad that convinced me to stay – I called him and said, “We split up, I’m coming back to Texas,” and he said, “No you’re not.” He knew how much I loved New England and that phone call was one of the reasons I’m still here. I’d made a bunch of friends and then I met Will Mallett and moved in with him, and ended up collaborating with one the great folk songwriters of our generation, Will’s dad David Mallett. I tried to write with him, but I was too nervous. But it was on the porch one night, and I was working for a company 9-5 and Dave said, kind of joking, but kind of serious, “Wouldn’t that be funny if you quit your job and made an album?” And that’s what I did: I left a career and did my first album Here I Go with the Malletts, which I released in 2015.
RLR: It seems like you’ve really found a deep musical community in Portland, playing with the Mallett Brothers, Hannah Daman, and other folks–how would you describe the music scene in Portland these days?
JT: There are so many talented folks that people just haven’t heard yet and you can find them at the open mics all around town. I hosted an open mic at The Thirsty Pig for a couple years, and that’s where I met Hannah and Martelle Sisters. I play banjo with them now at some of the shows. If it wasn’t for open mics, I wouldn’t have done my first record. From a networking perspective, they gave me the kickstart I needed. Like everywhere else, it can sometimes be hard in Portland to get people to come out to shows, but that’s just part of it these days.
RLR: You get some really great contributions from other players on The Outer Bank: When you get in the studio with them, how much do you direct what they’re doing and how open are you to what they’re hearing and bringing to the songs?
JT: The pre-production phase was a big focus and ninety percent of it was allowing the players to interpret the song the way they want to and create their art. It was all about having good vibes, no pressure, and letting the other artists create. We wanted to keep it country, and that’s hard to do up here, but it worked out well.
RLR: Talk a little about your songwriting process–are you setting aside time to write every day, carrying around scraps of lyrics jotted on receipts–what does the arc of a song look like?
JT: When I get an idea for a song, typically just note it down. I’ll start the song, but I have a hard time finishing a song, so I’ll put it away for a month or two. Knowing what you’re writing about is the most important thing and then I try to come up with a guitar riff that I feel might fit the song. Other times I’ll just write the lyrics out, and then figure out riffs and melodies.
RLR: The song, “Another Fall,” seems to trace your path a bit, from growing up in Ft. Worth and joining the rodeo circuit. It feels like a pretty tenuous and uncertain life–what kind of an impact did that experience have on you and what you prioritize, how you go about your music, etc?
JT: My dad did actually give me a pair of boots. I moved to Stephenville, the Rodeo Capital of Texas, and pursued my rodeo career. From a rodeo perspective, you worry about your gear, and especially your old boots. But we all get knocked down in life in general, and that’s what that song’s about.
RLR: It seems like you have a close relationship with your dad.
JT: My dad’s one of my best friends. He’s retired from his police work now. He’s been very influential in terms of who I am.
RLR: A lot of your songs have to do with very intimate, and somewhat damaged, relationships. The father and daughter in “The One He Left Behind,” the caution in “Don’t Get Too Close,” the longing in “Dance Again.” What do you find in those spaces of imperfect love that make you want to tell a story about it?
JT: Raising Sand, the Alison Krauss and Robert Plant album was an inspiration for Clara [Junken] and me. When we wrote “Don’t Get Too Close” together, we weren’t thinking of Raising Sand, but it was definitely influential.
When writing a song, you’re telling a story obviously, but you’re exploring emotions as well. The song “The One He Left Behind,” was based on someone I met that was given up for foster care, because her mom left and then her dad left. But then her dad came back and sometimes was abusive. Now he’s older, he can barely take care of himself, and he’s lonely. So every Sunday, she drives to his house a few hours away to visit him and take care of him. It really impacted me and I knew I wanted to write about it. I know someone that was in a similar situation, and she thought I wrote it about her. So there’s a lot of people who can relate to it because it captures not just the details, but the emotions of that kind of experience.