There is great reverence among the British towards certain American songwriters. The cultural impact crater from the US musical asteroid stretches across genres and time, and I’ve been unfortunate enough to bare witness to its effect in drizzly pubs, enduring a dire British approximation of a Johnny Cash impression in an oversized cowboy hat. As much as we fetishize American music, we also tend to, somewhat paradoxically, cringe and squirm at its shiny, bombastic arrogance.
I was lucky enough last month to witness a truly fantastic gig by American antifolk hero of the everyman, Jeffrey Lewis. In many ways, he’s the antithesis of what we’ve come to expect from the cliché of an American artist; he’s self-deprecating, cynical, neurotic, witty and dry, with a nihilistic worldview and enough social anxiety to sink the loftiest of egos. Perhaps that’s why he seems comparatively more popular over here. Since signing to British label Rough Trade, his songs have been quietly tapping into the psyche of generations of cynical and neurotic Brits for nearly two decades now. They’re funny and sincere, with consistent threads of optimism shining through the darkness.
The gig, in Bristol, was quickly sold out. The atmosphere reverent. He smashed through classics “Chelsea Hotel Oral Sex Song” (about bonding with a stranger over the Leonard Cohen song, and a potential missed opportunity) and “The Last Time I Did Acid I Went Insane”, which descended into a wild psychedelic nihilistic rant on life’s meaninglessness. “Broken Broken Broken Heart” perfectly juxtaposes a pop-punk melody with the struggles of heartbreak, and the hilarious and relatable “My Girlfriend Doesn’t Worry” was a particular highlight.
“My girlfriend doesn’t worry
About Mao Zedong’s vision for China
Was agrarian reform for the better?
Or is cynicism part of our culture?
These are massive, giant, troubling, consuming thoughts saturating my thinking
But I think she’ll just think it’s annoying, so I won’t bring it up.”
A serial collaborator, Lewis has toured and played with fellow antifolkies Kimya Dawson and Diane Cluck, as well as Ex-Holy Modal Rounders violinist Peter Stampfel, to name a few. His backing band this time around, Los Bolts, complemented the simplicity of the tunes without smothering their spark.
Whilst largely avoiding politics in his songwriting, a great feature of Lewis’ shows involves a spoken word piece narrating the Complete History of the Soviet Union, usually performed to a flip-book of his illustrations on the subject – now upgraded to a projector screen. Drily introducing it with “there’s nothing more rock and roll than a documentary film series”, Lewis performed part seven of A History of Socialism in Cuba.
As well as crashing on fan’s sofas whilst touring, Lewis mans his own merch stall. I met him before the show, whilst pouring over his vast array of comics, posters and albums. We spoke briefly about his excellent illustrations and the differences and similarities between British and American culture. It’s this modest accessibility which secures his cult status; yet his humble awkwardness belies his immense talent. He’s probably too niche for most mainstream radio stations, which is a crime because he’s truly one of the great American songwriters. Honesty in songwriting is an often overlooked trait, but I can’t imagine Bruce Springsteen or Bob Dylan having enough sincerity or self-awareness to write songs like “Williamsburg Will Oldham Horror”, which lays bare Lewis’ anxiety surrounding the measurements of success or failure – “probably Dylan himself too stayed up some nights wishing he was as good as Ginsberg or Camus.”
Jeffrey Lewis seems to me to be, whilst still very much a New Yorker, a very British American songwriter. Yet, I’m still waiting for the day where, in a drizzly pub, I hear a nasal approximation of one of his tunes drifting from the open-mic stool. We certainly don’t need to hear Folsom Prison Blues again.
For more information on Jeffrey Lewis, see his website: www.thejeffreylewissite.com
Adam Whittaker is a guitarist, singer, songwriter for British busking band Slack Mallard.
