My Answers To (some of) Your Questions
thank you for asking
Your Questions
Hi Juliana, Is there any chance you could work with Matthew again for another Minor Alps album? Your voices blend so beautifully, it’s quite magical.
A: Thank you for the compliment. Yes, I would absolutely work with Matthew again and I hope that we can make it happen. There are no plans as of now but I so love singing with him—he really is one of my favorite living singers. And the way our voices sometimes blend to become almost indistinguishable when together in the mix is really wild.
Hi JH! Been a fan since '94. Love your music. Are we any closer in seeing an official release of God's Foot? I'd love for that to happen especially a vinyl release.
A: We are working on it. We are getting closer; not there yet but my fingers are crossed.
Do you foresee your complete book about your experiences at the eating disorder clinic being published? The chapters you have shared have been compelling and moving. I wish I could read the work in total.
A: I never really finished writing all the chapters, nor organizing the whole story. I also feel a little unsure about putting it out there officially. It is such personal info, and other people were involved in this very private situation. I can change all the names but still there is part of me that feels that it might not be right to publish it, if I do ever put it all together into a finished state.
Q: On the music front, do you have one song you’ve written that is your favorite? Or does that shift with time and the fact you’re still adding to your catalog?
A: No one song comes to mind. It changes from day to day, I guess. I do have a soft spot in my heart for the album “There’s Always Another Girl”. A few of the songs on there are personal favorites, though the opening track is a bit weak, musically. Someone once told me to put the best songs first but I don’t always listen.
"The Lights" has just a beautiful musical vibe with the lyrics. Where were you when you wrote it?
A: I don’t remember where I was when I wrote it! I do remember one part of the song coming to me when I was alone late at night on a small beach on the bay in Duxbury, Massachusetts, the town I grew up in. I was looking up into the sky over the water searching for answers and relief from my existential angst and I noticed in the distance, way above the water, what looked like a big cross made of light, among the stars, bigger than the stars. Or I might’ve been hallucinating, though I wasn’t on any drugs. Did I dream this? Possibly. I am not and was not religious so I am not sure why that symbolism presented itself to me, or why my unconscious gave that shape a form and forced me to look at it. Or maybe it was some light anomaly or reflection that coincidentally looked kind of like a Christian church cross. Like I said, I was depressed and sometimes being in that state altered my consciousness and my senses (like sight) in odd ways.
A lot of the rest of the song was just about a guy, though. The guy. Young Juliana was crushing desperately on him and I knew it was hopeless. He, the guy, was the light.
Are you working on another "covers" release? Might I suggest The Kinks!
A: Not currently. I am, in fact, deep into the final stages of my new album of originals. Mixing has begun! The Kinks is not a bad idea for the next covers album, though.
Q: Hi Juliana! Where was the video for "This Lonely Love" shot? Looks so familiar.
A: Some of it was shot in Duxbury, Massachusetts. Different locations there, including the Big Beach at the ocean (as opposed to Little Beach, down Ship Yard Lane [where I contemplated ideas for The Lights], on the bay side) and walking trails near Bay Farm.
Then there was also some stuff shot at Larz Anderson Park in Brookline, Mass., I think. Was it Larz Anderson? Jonathan (now Gershon) Stark suggested it and I followed his lead there. (He shot the video and all the “How To Walk Away” album photos).
Some of the more urban stuff was in a neglected industrial part of Somerville near Sullivan Square which I imagine is more built-up and cleaned-up and monetized now. The photos for the album package were shot in this same area.
Hi Juliana, have you ever thought about being a producer (or audio engineer/recorder if you don't like the term a la Steve Albini) for artists other than yourself?
A: Yes, I have thought about it but not really done anything about it. I think I might not have the focus or energy to sustain interest in a project over the amount of time I’d need to make someone else’s album be great. I have some commitment issues. And a fear of losing interest or faith in the middle of it. Maybe I should just do a song or two, start there. People generally don’t ask me, though (to produce). And I am not the best advocate or hustler for myself.
I am like Albini in that I don’t like the term “producer”. I like to say “recorded by” when I do my thing. “Producing” doesn’t really mean anything. It is very unspecific. It is kind of a hype word. The big cheese at the Blake Babies’ first record company had us give him a credit on our first album with them as an “executive producer” which as far as I am concerned meant that he put up the money for us to make the album because he certainly wasn’t in the studio with us helping to make the music.
Could you provide some insight into what your typical day is like as a professional musician/artist (i.e., do you carve time out every day to write, draw, record, shopify/etsy, promote, etc. or do you wait to be inspired and just do these things cyclically? And if you do take extended time away from music and artwork, what are the things you like to devote your time to?). It's kind of a nosey question, isn't it...I'm sorry, but thanks
A: My days at home off the road and out of the recording studio do have a loose structure, mostly because if they didn’t I would probably lose my mind. I have to move (putter?) hour by hour and try not to step back and engage with the bigger picture so that my head doesn’t fly off into the emptiness surrounding me/everyone/everything. Somehow I get things done or I let things get themselves done. I have been working on trying to stop berating myself for being slow and scattered and to accept that my way is the way I have to let things move and develop; so-called idleness is a receptivity to letting ideas generate and germinate and percolate and finally solidify. It amazes me that this album I have been working on for two years ever got itself made, but it has! (Almost.) I thought I was being so so lazy and that the process was happening ludicrously, interminably piecemeal but it is a system that does work, and almost against my will this album has brought itself into being, kicking and screaming. Or mewling and humming. Scoffing and coughing. Growling and grumbling. Weeping and sniffling.
A normal day for me involves a rotating bunch of things:
I eat lightly five times a day: 7 am-ish, 11 am, 1:30 pm, 3 pm, and then dinner at 6pm-ish.
I do errands: going to the post office, the library, the bank, the dump, lately the garden centers (I love them), shopping for food, doing yardwork and tending the vegetable garden, washing, tidying, mending, pest-control, cleaning my vast collection of guns*, etc. The usual stuff.
I read (fiction and non-fiction), I write/work on this substack stuff, I do some business, I work on the album, at home, (when not working on music I usually draw/paint at some point in the day but right now that is not happening as I am consumed with getting the album done), I exercise (30 minutes on my mini trampoline every day [I recently switched to this from running, because I needed a change and wanted to rotate the exercise-ritual crops] plus a little yoga, stretching and free weights), I do a substantial walk with my dog or else go to the dog park (for the rest of the day she has a fenced-in yard), I watch TV/movies, I look at the internet (sometimes I’ll go from looking at the Huffington Post or the Nation to, like, Breitbart or some shit, so the trackers and algorithms can’t stereotype me).
Hi Juliana! I love collecting the test pressings and one-off pressings of your albums. Thank you for making them available. Would you ever consider embellishing a couple of your album covers with your own hand drawn artwork? Your albums are already a work of art but it would make for a very unique, one-of-a-kind, limited edition. I'd really love to brag to my friends "Look, Juliana Hatfield drew on my album!"
A: That is an interesting/good idea. Do you mean that I would draw on the test pressings or on the actual official artwork when the album is released?
What is your favorite R.E.M. album and favorite R.E.M. song?
A: My favorite of all is the first EP but that is not a full-length bona fide album so my favorite actual album album is Murmur.
Biscuit
Do you own all of your masters for albums you self released on CD and which one are you planning to re-release next? (BTW, Self Titled and There's Always Another Girl sell for over $100 second hand.)
A: We are going to reissue Made In China on vinyl soon! With some re-arranged artwork. I do own most of the masters to all of my stuff post-Atlantic Records, which is a great feeling. I didn’t know that those records you mention are collector’s items. Good to know. Like I said, There’s Always Another Girl” is one of my faves of mine.
Is there a song of yours you wish had had a music video? And is there any of your music videos you wish hadn’t been made? If so, which one(s)? Hugs!
A: There is one video that I—or I, as a member of one of my bands (hint hint)-- regret having made but I don’t want to name it because I don’t want people to go and look it up and look at it or listen to it. Sorry! It’s embarrassing.
You once suggested that you may have been abducted by aliens - that 'something weird happened that five-year-old summer, in Indiana, in the middle of the night'. Do you feel ready to elaborate upon this?
A: It’s hard to explain but the memory is so vivid but also I realize that all memory might be fiction. I was spending the summer with my Mom’s sister and her husband and their kids (my aunt, uncle and cousins) in Fort Wayne, Indiana. I was five years old. I don’t know why I was shipped out there but I had a pretty good time. I don’t remember much about the summer except for these two things:
1) I was playing indoors with my cousins and we were goofing around with the laundry chute; one of us would go down to the basement and stand under the chute and another one of us would send something down the chute from above, something like a towel or a shirt which would land on the face of the person below, at which point everyone had a giggle. At one point, when it was my turn to receive, one of my cousins sent a toy train—a piece from a train set, made of metal, as I remember it—down the chute and it split my nose open and I had to go to the doctor. I left the doctor’s office with a butterfly bandage across the bridge of my nose. Which I thought was so cool. I still have a scar there. A little horizontal line up near the top of the bridge, between my eyes.
2) One night, in my twin bed in the room I shared with one of my cousins, I awoke to bright, slowly flashing light, on and off. I didn’t know where it was coming from but it was everywhere—it wasn’t coming from anywhere in the house or directly outside the house that I could see; everything, every space, all through and around the house and sky and more, was bright light, no sound. I was five years old so I took it in stride and I got up out of bed to go and pee. As I walked across the hall to the bathroom, the light kept on coming on intermittently—total black night and then total bright light saturating my whole line of vision and seemingly enveloping and overtaking the whole house and neighborhood for a few long seconds at a time. I wasn’t scared, just curious. I sat on the toilet while the bright light came on and off, slowly, on, slowly off. No rush, no fear, no urgency. I walked around the upstairs and no one was awake and the light kept happening and I accepted it and then went back to bed and fell asleep.
There was another incident years later, in Duxbury. I’ll tell you about it some other time.
You never know how these Q&A things go, it’s up to the recipient, is it a good day, is it a bad day, are you happy, are you sad? After all you’re a musician I’ve listened to for decades and from who’s songs I’ve garnered vignettes of your stories, slices of your emotions, and a woman’s song writing prowess. You are and will be a favorite, thank you for the body of work to date.
Is there a demarcation line in you, one you’ve cognitively recognized, or perhaps subconsciously felt, that’s changed and reshaped your journey as person and therefore your output as a songwriter and musician?
This isn’t meant to be a one-off question but rather an ask for you to possibly share, if appropriate, that overarching emotional or philosophical line you crossed within yourself to something more
for you as an artist.
Julian Cope did it with Peggy Suicide https://beatpatrol.wordpress.com/2008/08/26/david-fricke-peggy-suicide-1991/
Bruce Springsteen is beginning to articulate it now and maybe his simmering emotions boil over into a hard-hitting alchemy of americana, who knows.
But through your lens as a songwriter, as a woman?
Is there a “Hanging Out and Hung Up on The Line” moment or a “Hejira” realization?
A: I wrote a long answer to this and then deleted it because it seemed too complicated. It’s a great question, though, and my new almost-finished album grapples some with it.
What was your favorite thing about collaborating with Paul Westerberg and Evan Dando?
A: It’s difficult to sum either up. They are both unique, complicated individuals. They are both funny, too. Both great with language, with wordery (is that a word?) Word-ordering. Fun, original wordplay. They make you see things anew, and to think about things you might not have thought about. Check out the new Lemonheads song, “Deep End” (I sang a little on it; blink and you’ll miss me), and you can see what I am talking about.
I understand the circumstances around "Sell Out" but would be interested in your views of selling out as a concept, now vs then. It feels like for people growing up in the 90s maybe some things really were more important than money, but maybe that's just a story we told ourselves. Reality Bites wouldn't happen now though, I think Winona would pick Ben Stiller and tell Ethan Hawke to get his act together. Maybe she should have at the time anyway.
A: It’s sad that no one cares anymore about (not) selling out, sad that selling out is the new ambition, that down is now up. But then again I suppose it is good that people are confronting reality, forced to accept the truth underlying everything in this consumerist capitalist world we live in; the reality of all human business, including the business of trying to make a living in the creative arts. And the truth is that money rules, money is the boss, of almost all of us. Marriage is money, health is money, politics is money, sex is money, fame is money, scandal is money, crime is money, art is money, music is money, faith and Jesus and Taylor Swift are money. And we all need money. Money is respected, even though it makes whores and villains and losers and embarrassments of so many people. You will find it hard to find anyone, artist or not, who isn’t tempted or motivated or affected by money. People with more than enough money for them or their families and heirs to ever spend want more money. More than once I told myself I wasn’t going to ever do anything again for money but then I went on tour because I had to make some money.
Is the nude(ish) cover art of my “There’s Always Another Girl” album a sellout? or does nudity (with no face) take on a different meaning when it knows there will be only a tiny, thoughtful audience looking at it, and when the title track is a feminist resistance-protest to systemic/music-and-arts-industry misogyny and patriarchy?
Is substack a sellout? Most people are beyond thinking like that, or they do call it a money-grab (in today-speak) but accept the reality and move on, and some of them even enjoy this place, and I enjoy it and I subscribe to and pay for a few writers here and I feel mostly good about paying—being able to pay— those writers. No one seems to care today about the selling out issue except for the rare one-off commenter who says “I wish I didn’t have to pay for your writing” (to which I want to answer: “I wish I didn’t have to pay my mortgage”). Plenty of posts are free to everyone –I wanted that to be true, and to stay true. I am doing this partly because I need creative outlets, always, to express things but partly because I need to promote my ongoing, upcoming and past work and to supplement the relatively and comparatively and maybe to some of you surprisingly modest net amounts that my music brings in.
I’m not complaining! Really, I’m not. I feel lucky to be here and to have an audience. I mean yes I do complain about a lot of things but I am also grateful, all the time. But. I feel pressure to say that I am grateful, because I still feel that I might be perceived as a sellout if I don’t. I guess I’m old-fashioned that way. I’m stuck in the 90’s.
Can you see more stars at night where you are now, as opposed to where you were before?
What is your preferred breakfast meal, including beverage? Gracias.
A: Yes!
Black tea and something with nuts/seeds and whole grains.
Was fascinating to read about that waking vision you had as a teenager in your memoir. Where do you think that came from? Is there some kind of higher power telling you that you were born to be a rock star?
A: I don’t know anymore. Sometimes I think it was a cosmic joke that the universe played on me, giving me that vision. Or just a manifestation of emerging mental illness. At that moment I thought I knew and understood my fate (to make music for people) and that it was good, and correct, but now I am not so sure. Sometimes I think that maybe I wasted my life on a stupid fantasy and that that vision was some version of the devil tempting me to go down the wrong road, the thankless road.
But then I have all these songs which I am so proud of. I absolutely don’t regret them or the helpful/healthful effects they’ve had on some people around the world (and the way that making them has always helped me to cope). Maybe a few of them (my songs) should’ve been aborted or given up for adoption but most of them are good eggs that had good intentions.
What is the service being described in the song Torture?
A: Haha I don’t remember exactly . I think it was when I had DSL internet hookup through my land line and I was trying to upload songs I was working on onto someplace like Dropbox and the computer would tell me, literally, “8 seconds remaining” but then 10, 20, 30 seconds would go by. That was the situation. It enraged me. It would tell me “one minute remaining” and five minutes later it was still working on it and I was still sitting there, fuming, “You LIAR”.
What do you do, when not from working on an album, to stay connected with people and hopefully replenish your faith in humanity and feel connected to mankind? Some days I feel like Miss Havisham and have no urge ever to leave the house but when I do, and have positive experiences, I wonder why I don’t make the effort more often. Do you volunteer at an animal shelter, see an offbeat or classic movie with a friend, hit an art gallery, participate in a book club, try a new restaurant, go antiquing for vintage thimbles, etc…?
A: I am pretty isolated. I tell myself it is my nature to be alone but I think it has a lot to do with how difficult every kind of relationship and social interaction has always been for me. The majority of the people I do interact with are connected to making music.
Having a dog (since my old dog died a couple of years ago) has helped a bit; it forces me to engage in low-stakes conversations when I have the dog with me.
I’ve been taking squash lessons and that intense one-on-one in a shared space with a task (squash) has been great. I miss playing sports and playing games with people but you are right that it is so hard to take the first step. And, yes, I have been thinking about trying to find a new animal shelter volunteer gig. There aren’t many near where I am living now but I’ll find something.
*kidding
Thanks for answering my question and the others, very informative! I don't perceive that you have ever sold out artistically. You have always appeared to stick to your (*not real) guns in your work/art, which I think has been appealing to many of my fellow listeners.
I really LOVED the "there's always another girl demos", haunting and wonderful. Just to make a point you made very early on in the questions.... thank you!