Describing Julian Lynch’s music is difficult, period. But it is even harder to describe his music without falling back on certain buzzwords, terms that have been so overused by music journalists over the past year that they seem to designate everything and nothing at all. We might say, for example, that Julian makes blissed-out 21st-century psychedelia, waltzing lackadaisically through the bottomless archive of musical references (Western and non-) that the internet puts at our fingertips.
Alternately, we could say his songs make us nostalgic for childhood — not only because they return lo-fi production values of the cassette era, but because they sometimes sound like the imaginary pop songs we used to sing softly to ourselves as kids, built from half-digested FM radio snippets overheard at the neighborhood pizza parlor. We will also probably feel obliged to mention particular places (Ridgewood, NJ, where he grew up), the names of certain childhood friends that he continues to collaborate with to this day (members of Ducktails, Real Estate, and Alex Bleeker and The Freaks), and the summery, sun-bleached, or even slightly soporific sensations that his music can be expected to produce.
Maybe it’s impossible to avoid this sort of shorthand, but the problem with using language of this kind is that you end up describing (or hypothetically describing) dozens of contemporary acts simultaneously. Julian isn’t really convinced by all this hype-speak, either. In addition to being a musician, he is a full-time grad student in ethnomusicology at the University of Wisconsin-Madison — and kind of a “hard sell” when it comes to knee-jerk categorizations of this kind. It seemed only fitting, therefore, that TMT find out about Julian’s music in Julian’s own words.
I was hoping to catch your set at the Underwaterpeoples Late Summer showcase at Market Hotel last month, but when I arrived I was surprised to find out that (a) you already gone on, and (b) that you actually weren’t even in New York, and had been broadcast live over the internet from your apartment in Madison. Can you tell me a little about the experience? What was it like playing in front of a webcam knowing that you were being watched by all of your pals from New Jersey and New York?
Read Julian's response on Tiny Mix Tapes. Editor’s Note: The interview I did with Julian Lynch for TMT was an extended email back-and-forth that took place over the first weeks of October. For space reasons, some of what we talked about never made it into the published interview–namely, his response to my last question, which I thought was one of his most interesting. I thought I’d reprint it here so it doesn’t vanish for all posterity. It is easy and entertaining to play up regional identification as a musician, but honestly I question the idea of a “Ridgewood sound” as being something concrete or useful as a description just as much as I question the idea of a “California sound,” a “beach sound,” or a “summer sound.” It is a strange semiosis that leaves so many writers and music enthusiasts to believe that the essence of a time or place can somehow be embedded within a sound. Maybe it is a spirituality to which I am not attuned. However, obviously there is an audience that shares some interpretive knowledge and understanding of these terms, since hearing “summer sound” DOES actually convey some sort of meaning about style or whatever to them. That’s why I don’t want to dismiss all this stuff entirely, because it definitely means something to some people. I guess I do identify as a “Ridgewood artist,” and what that means really is that so many years of my musical development were shared with these close friends who are also from Ridgewood, and my present experiences are also shared with them to some degree, though we no longer live in the same place. Because of that, I feel very much musically influenced by them, in many ways stylistically, so there is some common sonic ground between my music and the music of some other Ridgewood musicians. But saying that is different than arguing that physical location or place of origin necessarily works its way into musical style, manifested as a universal quality. That is weird and deterministic. And I could show you some music made by people from Ridgewood that doesn’t have a whole lot in common with what I do. But still, I feel like I am a “Ridgewood artist.” Maybe it is because I am still young, but I feel a special sense of enjoyment and satisfaction when I collaborate musically with my Ridgewood friends. Interview with Julian Lynch, by Emilie Friedlander, October 2009 Julian’s debut solo l.p., Orange You Glad, was released in August 2009 by Olde English Spelling Bee. Other releases include the Ducktails/Julian Lynch Split 7″ on Underwater Peoples, and a “hit single” on the Underwater Peoples Summertime Showcase CD. Tags: Julian Lynch, Olde English Spelling Bee, Orange You Glad, Underwater Peoples
Some closing thoughts: do you think there is a “Ridgewood sound”? Do you identify as a “Ridgewood artist”?
Great interview.