Photo credit: Ken Hanson
Milwaukee writer/guitarist/vocalist John Sieger of the R&B Cadets and Semi-Twang
Milwaukee’s John Sieger is not one to let a lockdown slow him down. For the release of his new album Modern Folk Vol. II, he recently performed a livestream concert from his basement accompanied by his son Sam on drum. His wife Linsey served a stage manager.
Raised in Kenosha, Sieger made his mark in Milwaukee as writer/guitarist/vocalist with the R&B Cadets and Semi-Twang, among other projects. Modern Folk Vol. II is his seventh solo release. He said the songs on it date as far back as the early ‘90s.
How has the lockdown affected your creativity?
Well, I’m no longer the riveting performer I was before COVID,” Sieger joked. “Seriously, I don’t worry too much about creativity—if ideas don’t come there’s a reason and it all gets sorted out in my subconscious, a place I have limited access to.
Do you have a routine or schedule for staying in practice or working on new material?
I’m not that organized, my wife will attest to that. The thing I’ve learned to do is answer the door when ideas come. So, if I suddenly go missing, you can usually find me singing into my phone in the powder room.
Are you making plans for when you can resume playing in front of people again?
Microphones used to try to electrocute me, now they want to give me the gift of COVID, so when the scientists say it safe, I’ll be reappearing somewhere.
How did you decided the songs all fit together for an album?
That’s a tough question — I’m not sure how songs go together. I mostly worry if they’re good enough then I figure it’s like a dog park, they’ll work things out without me!
Some of these seem to be, at least in part, autobiographical?
Yes, and that’s new territory for me. “Martha’s Machine” is the most obvious one. My mother raised seven kids, mostly by herself and did it with a Necchi sewing machine. I had to convert to a Singer for obvious reasons.
|
|
It was parked between the living room and dining room so she could sew and watch TV after we all enjoyed the dinner she made. If I had her work ethic, I’d own an island. “Hangin’ On The Mezzanine” is a tribute to the Goldman’s of Kenosha, Barden Store, where she did alterations later in life.
Are there stories behind some of the other songs? “Never Borrow Trouble,” “Long, Long Night” and Pleasure of Your Company” might suggest stories.
I thought I had made up the phrase “never borrow trouble,” but I found it rereading a Charles Portis novel—I think Gringos. “Long Long Night” is a kiss-off song, one of my favorite genres, but it’s not about anyone in particular. It’s on there because I like the riff and the reference to The Night Of The Living Dead. “The Pleasure Of Your Company” is a phrase I knew would work, but it’s just me doing a poor man’s Joe Ely.
“Martha’s Machine” in effect references three generations—your Mom, your brother Mike who plays bass on cd, and your son Sam who drummed on the livestream. How important is it to you, connecting the dots through the walls of time?
I wish I’d written that one before my mom died, but I don’t operate that way. Suffice it to say anything wonderful that’s happened to me, like my wife, son (who designed the CD) and harmonizing brother (bassist Mike Sieger) wouldn't have happened without her. “Martha’s Machine” the only time I’ve liked a song written specifically about someone close to me. It’s hard to do.
If the album has an M.O., at least part of that is the tunes are mostly simple folk melodies, embellished with a few guitar flourishes. No real bridges or anything to distract from the bones of the songs.
The songs are far from demos -- not even acknowledging “production”—can you talk about this?
There’s nothing wrong with direct expression—that’s what I like about Folk music. Guitarists are very generous with their skills, sometimes too generous.
John Parrott (guitarist) is someone I’ve known a long time and he’s a minimalist. He also has a beautiful sense of rhythm. That’s good when there isn’t a drummer. (Bob Schneider is credited with percussion on the album.)
Bridges should happen organically, that was the case with “Things That I Oughta Do” and “The Pleasure of Your Company.”
If they don’t come, why sweat it? I didn’t want it to sound produced, just captured in hi-fi. Working with Chris Hanson (recording/mixing/mastering) and John Parrott and singing into his beautiful Neumann microphone—we decided it was probably wise not to tart it up.
