Interview with Tim Elsenburg

Interview with Tim Elsenburg, frontman, songwriter, and producer of Sweet Billy Pilgrim’s Twice-Born Men.

Q: What's the first instrument you learned to play?

My grandfather taught me the piano for a couple of years. He used to play for the RAF big band during the war, so whenever Vera Lynn was doing a radio broadcast, he'd be behind her on the ivories. Unfortunately, as a teacher he was less successful... a smack on the back of the hands with a ruler if I let my wrists drop. Kind of put me off. Tried violin and flute for a bit, but couldn't handle the discipline, or the fact that they sounded terrible at novice level, and then didn't get any better for me with the passing of novice status... . Then I heard 'River Song' by Dennis Wilson one day, and suddenly music wasn't just background noise, and I desperately wanted to be involved somehow. So - in a flash of rather confused thinking - I settled on the obvious choice for my brave new world: The fretless bass guitar.


Q: What led you to it?

Mick Karn of Japan, Pino Palladino's playing on Paul Young's version of 'Wherever I Lay My Hat' (still beautiful in spite of Paul's Kermit-the-Frog vocals), and later on Kev Hopper from UK Beefheartian popsters Stump. He was fucking amazing.

Q: When did you first start performing in front of other people (any other people)?

Always performing. Little plays my brother and I would make up and press-gang various family members into coming to watch. We'd also perform wholly inaccurate ukulele versions of records we liked from mum's singles collection, which she'd donated to us along with her old Dansette; Bonnie and Clyde, Telstar, Let the Heartaches Begin, Lay Lady Lay, Chris Barber (I think) singing 'Ice Cream'.

Q: Could you tell us about the other members of SBP?

Anthony Bishop (Bish) plays the bass and banjo, and Alistair Hamer who plays the drums. Both friends of my late brother's. We stumbled through various bands together, including some session and touring work with other artists, losing touch again every now and then, but somehow always ending up together. They're practically family; I trust them utterly musically, and they make me laugh a lot, as well as acting as my bullshit detectors should I drift towards - shall we say - the more esoteric end of what we do. It often involves me crafting multi-layered, delicate gossamer loops of filigree guitar within our cathedrals of sound etc etc, and Al telling me to f**k off with the 'whale noises'. Sometimes I really have to fight for an idea to stay in a song, but that's as it should be. If it's a good idea, I'll make the effort. If not, then it'll seem like too much bother. I think our comfort with each other comes across best on stage. We take the songs very seriously, but the gaps inbetween them considerably less so...

Q: What draws you to the banjo?

It's got that dry percussive sound, thanks to its comparative lack of sustain, and it's very resonant. You're very aware of the physical process of actually producing sound from a banjo, because all the peripheral noise you make just playing the bloody thing is acoustically amplified along with notes, making it a very human experience to listen to one. Plus it's loud, so it's good to sing over.

Q: Is Slaughterhouse Five your favorite Vonnegut?

No... I think The Sirens of Titan is. As I remember, in that book, spaceships are powered by the 'The Universal Will to Become', which I thought was a lovely idea... so that almost became the album title... Didn't take Alistair to point out to me that - even by my standards - a title like that might be a bit pompous... possibly pretentious, even...

Q: What is your process when you're working on music - whether writing songs, or developing an album?

Up until now, I've written in the studio, so I'll record some audio, then build with that very slowly, adding more layers and editing like mad etc. until a song just sort of emerges out of all the confusion. I usually get to the end of working on a piece, and simply can't trace the ideas back to any starting point, usually because I've actually cut out those early elements somewhere near the beginning of working on it. I try to not look at instruments, but think about the sound I need instead, and then look at what's in the studio that might facilitate that. Of course, that said, I'd like to simplify things a bit now. We've worked very hard in the last year to become a bit more of a live proposition, which has involved us almost doing cover versions of our own songs because I refuse to take laptops on the road (they break down, and I like people to be able to see where most of the noises are coming from). In the process of doing that, I've become quite attracted to the idea of taking the next record away from the massive layering of Twice Born Men towards something simpler and more collaborative perhaps. We shall see.

Q: Where did you get the title, Twice Born Men?

I think it's the name of an organisation formed by traumatised Vietnam vets; kind of a support network for damaged people to help each other through by token of their shared experience. Completely ignoring their noble cause, I stole its name because it conjured up the possibilities of lives lived elsewhere. What would have happened if you'd stayed with that person, or left this one, or caught that bus, or not eaten that last doughnut ? All these decisions affect how things turn out, and we make thousands of them every day, so I was fantasizing about rewinding at key points to redirect ourselves; to be twice... thrice... [infinity]ice born. At the risk of sounding a little grand, and speaking in purely thematic - as opposed to qualitative - terms, the first record I guess was our 'Slow Train Coming'... while this one is more our 'Blood On the Tracks'; more about relationships. In one interview I described it as our 'love' album, before hurriedly trying to qualify that statement with '...but not in a Barry White way', and wincing.

Q: Where did you record the album?

In a wooden shed at the end of my garden, full of musical junk. Dark, often cold, and home to many crispy moths and happy spiders.

Q: There are many striking textures on the album, but to ask about one: how did you decide to bring in the mournful choir on the album closer, "There Will It End"?

I wanted that one to sound like an old-school hymn, sung in creaky wooden church, complete with a dirge-like, slightly unwilling, congregational chorus... Just 3 verses, but each one had to be different. So I pretended to be a mob, which entailed recording about 30 tracks of vocals in various characters: rich old lady, drunk old man, small child, wannabe opera singer, distracted teenager, tone-deaf miner etc etc. If you listen to any of them solo-ed, it's hilarious. For the final verse, I wanted the sound of the choirs they used in old film soundtracks to signify the arrival of angels. Another 20 tracks of vocals later, it all somehow seemed a bit less heavenly... but I am particularly pleased with that one.

Q: Is there anything else you'd like people to know about the record?

Just that it is a kind of concept album, in the loosest sense. It starts at the end of the heart's little journey and then works its way back to the beginning, which is actually the end anyway, and so it's kind of like that Elton John song in the Lion King... only longer, and with less lions. There are some tigers though, oddly enough.

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