Matt Lorenz, who performs under the one-man-band moniker, The Suitcase Junket, is a force. I have seen his live show a half-dozen times and have always been amazed. His new record, Mean Dog, Trampoline, is his best yet, and that is a very high bar. Matt and I got to chat about taking a new approach with this album, drawing inspiration from a variety of sources, and what we know for sure.
RLR: One of the things people have sometimes said to me about you is that your live show is so dynamic and the studio just can’t capture it; but I really feel like this new record does that.
ML: It’s one of those tricky things. In the past, when I’ve gone into record, I’ve tried to do it more or less live. I’d overdub some vocals, or do some mixing, [but would play live] in an effort to try and capture that kind of energy. And, you know, sometimes it’s worked, sometimes it didn’t.
And on this one, Steve Berlin, who was producing it, said “Let’s take the whole thing apart, and put it together piece by piece.” So it’s so interesting that the process that was drier did lead to a livelier record. I like that sort of irony.
RLR: I really love the “Scattered Notes from a First Time Home Buyer’s Workshop.” Can you talk about the kernel of that song and how it developed?
ML: The title is very literal. I was going through some old notebooks, basically digging for ideas for new songs and I came across these notes. They were completely incoherent. I was just a bad notetaker. I spent most of the time in that class taking incoherent notes and drawing pictures of imaginary critters. But being someone who doesn’t like to throw things away, I thought, “This is pretty much garbage,” but there were a couple lines that almost rhymed, or had an interesting rhythm to them. So I kind of cut it up and, using all that same verbiage, put it back together and wrote something I never would have just written myself. It’s always refreshing when you find a new way into something like that. And the album title, which is informed by the chorus of that song, is the two things insurance companies really hate: a mad dog and a trampoline.
RLR: In “Son of Steven,” you steal ideas from the seasons, the thunder, from the river, the garden, the coffin, these places of generativity or transition and you mention you, “run around in the woods for the wonder.” When you’re on tour, I often see you posting pictures in seemingly off-the-beaten path places. Is that a strategy for staying somewhat sane on tour or just satisfying your curiosity?
ML: That song is one of the more autobiographical tunes that I have. Certainly one of the places I go looking for songs is walking in the woods, walking the dog. If anything was feeling bad, the forest would usually fix it; to get out in nature, that was usually the answer for me, and it still is. There’s so many lessons: analogies to be drawn and metaphors to be used. There’s also a sort of Phil Spector-y rip off; so I’m stealing my best ideas from nature, but, also in a tongue-in-cheek way, I’m really taking this right out of the Ronettes.
ML: I think part of it is actually from playing more festivals. Especially as a solo performer, the energy that you get back from the audience strongly affects you. So I’ve been sort of hooked on that dance energy and, because of that, when I’m leaving a show, driving down the road, and popping ideas around, a lot of them seem to be in that range.
And another thing is just Steve Berlin’s ear, and the way he goes about getting sounds is super methodical. And he’s been doing it so long that he’s just got great ears. He knew what he was working with, he wasn’t trying to turn me into anybody different, but he also had these really great ideas of how to arrange the tunes. So on “Everything I Like,” he throws in this really tight, triplet maraca thing. He didn’t play much on the record, but on that one, he said, “Let me just throw these maracas on here,” and Justin and I, in the control room, said, “Oh shit, he just made that a single!”
RLR: When you say, “methodical,” about his approach, what do you mean?
ML: Basically we did it the way you do a regular studio album: you put down the drums, you put down a bunch of rhythm, the guitar, and you put the vocals on last. There’s still a couple of tracks I played live, like “Stay Too Long,” and “First Time Home Buyer’s.”
He was just very thoughtful, and almost laconic in the process. But just when you think he’s checked out, he’d say, “This is the thing that should go there,” and you’d think “Oh, you were actually listening deeply.”
RLR: I think it’s not until the seventh song on this record that we hear any overtone singing, right at the end of “Son of Steven.”
ML: It’s tucked in on “Heart of a Dog,” [the second track] in some of those crazy solos, so you can miss it. But, yeah, we didn’t use it much.
RLR: Do you ever feel like there’s this misplaced expectation on you that your songs will necessarily feature that aspect of your musicianship?
ML: Yeah, there were spots where I was using it, and Steve said, “This song doesn’t need that.” At a certain point he said, “Hey man, I want you to know that I’m not anti-overtone, I’m just trying to give these songs what they need.” And I was into it. I’ve been doing it my way for the whole time up til now, so a lot of the process for me was letting go of the reins.
I’ve been saying that I’m four years into my five years of “yes.” When the Junket started getting some traction, I had to decide to do as much came my way as I could. And I think I’ll do another album with Steve and maybe be a little less pliable. But, yeah, the overtone stuff, he wasn’t hearing it on a lot of stuff. And I don’t want to use it just because I can do it.
RLR: Yeah, I’ve heard players talk about certain guitar players’ restraint as the marker of their talent.
ML: Right. Just because you know how to play every note doesn’t mean you have to.
RLR: We read lots of things about the isolation and sadness that permeates our superconnected world. And your song “Dreamless Life” made me think about that–the idea that what constitutes dreams for us sometimes is that Fear Of Missing Out and what other people are doing. So that question of “what is killing your dreams” is really sitting with me.
ML: Odds are it’s the internet that’s killing your dreams. That’s just a shot in the dark there, but I’d put money on it.
ML: That’s the thing, right? That’s life. You can learn everything there is to learn. Everything is so knowable, too, because of the internet, but no one’s ever going to know why or what it’s all for. I’ve set my life on a path, and most people do and they’ll switch it up who knows how many times throughout a lifetime. And you sort of hope and assume you’re on the right path. Or that you’re doing the thing that you’re meant to do. But no one knows anything, really.
And that’s one of the great things about the human experience: we’ve found such wild, and awful, and ridiculous ways to apply ourselves and justify our existence. Being able to balance that mystery and the need to feel you have a little control over your existence, it’s a hell of a mix.
This album is incredible–get it, stream it. You’ll be dancing and happy. There are a slew of tour dates in New England and across the country, which you can check here. Highlights include the album release show at The Sinclair with Ali McGuirk on 4/5, The Word Barn in NH on 4/7, Cafe Nine in New Haven on 4/10 and The Narrows in Fall River with Twisted Pine on 4/11! Whew – get out there, folx!