GRANT-LEE PHILLIPS RELEASES NEW ALBUM
WALKING IN THE GREEN CORN
“History and legend have often found their way into my songs” reflects Grant-Lee
Phillips. “But sometimes, I don’t have to look quite so far to find inspiration.”
Walking in the Green Corn, is the newest album by Grant-Lee Phillips. It’s ten songs are
drawn from Phillips’ intensive investigations into his native lineage. Phillips, who is
Muskogee (Creek), elliptically explores the intersection of past and present, personal and
political. While the songs delve deeply into the subconscious mystery of his own backstory, they simultaneously reveal the resonance and insight of ancient myth in parallel to
contemporary man’s emotions, actions, and errors.
Composed in a concentrated burst over the course of a few winter months, Walking in the
Green Corn came about almost too quickly to censor—the unfiltered sum of years of
rumination and discovery. As the days became shorter, the nocturnal Phillips became
more productive. “I’m pretty good in the morning,” he says, a smile emerging, “which for
me is about 2pm. I find that in a half-awake state, I can make a little bit of headway. Then
I become more conscious as the day goes on…I have to wait until the evening and the
rest of the world has quieted down to resume.”
What initially began as off-the-cuff home recordings, designed to capture the songs at the
moment of conception, soon took on a life of its own. “Initially I figured that, somewhere
down the road, I’d get some musicians together in a cathedral-like space and re-record
these songs,” Phillips explains. But the disarmingly warm, bioluminescent quality of his
simple home recordings had the certain weathered elegance that, in Phillips’ words,
“would have driven me mad if I attempted to recreate them in a professional studio
environment.” With the exception of violin and vocals by Sara Watkins (formerly of
Nickel Creek) and an understated vibraphone part by Alexander Burke, everything on
Walking in the Green Corn was performed, sung, and engineered by Phillips.
“I do my best work when nobody’s paying attention – including myself,” he recalls.
“That’s what happened: it really snuck up on me. By the end of the year, I had most of
the album written and recorded. Little by little I’d play the songs back for my wife,
Denise (Siegel), on long drives up the San Joaquin Valley. She’s an artist and writer with
uncanny ears and instincts. She kept me aimed in the right direction, brought a lot of
objectivity to the project. Denise was my co-producer here.”
The mix of euphoria, wonder, and caution brought about by fatherhood—a heady
emotional cocktail that fueled Phillips last album, the critically lauded Little Moon—also
played a hand in this projects, as his thoughts turned to his own mixed heritage. He has
always found his ancestry, which encompasses both Native American peoples European
settlers to be a fertile source. “Connecting to my ancestry is like having this deep trunk
that’s embedded in the earth, with deep roots. It was always something that was
important to my grandmother, who was Creek, and to my mother.
So, after becoming a father, I wanted to be able to answer all those questions I know I’ll
be asked one day, when my daughter takes an interest in where we come from.”
The opening “Vanishing Song” functions equally as an ode to rediscovering the ancient
songs of his forefathers and as a longing for a purity and wisdom long corrupted by
modern man’s material lust. A similar theme pervades “Fool’s Gold,” of which Phillips
says, “Perhaps there is no other kind of gold. Look what it does to us, look how it drives
people mad. Look how it drove a whole nation westward and all the suffering that came
with it.”
Exploring timeless myths and rituals also lead Phillips to discover a certain palpable awe
and majesty in life around him that mirrors his ancient inspirations. The loping “Grey
Horned Owl” celebrates a beast long associated with insight and wisdom, equating its
constancy and calm strength with the unwavering dedication of a devoted partner.
“Thunderbird,” perhaps the album’s most stark and intimate performance, finds Phillips
overwhelmed by the mighty bird of myth—and equally enchanted with the mysteries and
uncertainties of earthly attraction.
Since first emerging in the early ‘90s as the front-man and songwriter of the
internationally acclaimed trio Grant Lee Buffalo, Phillips has been drawn to the conflicts
at the heart of the American experience. The resulting body of work, which consists of
four GLB albums and six uniquely divergent solo albums, has placed Phillips among the
most revered and admired songwriters of his generation. His post-GLB career in
particular has found him exploring a wide range of palettes and textures, from the roiling
synthscapes of Mobilize to the rootsy clarity of the pedal steel-laced Virginia Creeper.
Walking in the Green Corn shares an elemental purity and richness with Virginia
Creeper, but further pairs down both the performances and the compositions. “It comes
down to the purest form of expression that I can offer,” Phillips explains. “I have to get
off on my own, allow myself to disappear to do my best work.”
Walking in the Green Corn comes together as an evocative penetration into our own
troubled era. And yet, the album’s optimistic title track completes the album on a
meditative, redemptive note—implying that the potential for change and betterment is
within reach, and that perhaps the best solutions can be found by looking backwards and
forward simultaneously.