A farewell to Lou

Sebadoh's Barlow leaves for LA

by Matt Ashare

"Enervating and exciting" were two of the words Lou Barlow used between songs last Sunday at the Green Street Grill to describe the past six months of his life. He was referring to some of the big decisions he's had to make recently, from finding a new drummer for Sebadoh and negotiating a major-label deal for the Folk Implosion to packing up and leaving an apartment in Boston's Back Bay for the house in LA that he and his wife, Kathleen Billus, will be moving into later this month. And as anyone familiar with the Sebadoh songbook might guess, Barlow is not one to confront even small matters light-heartedly, much less big emotional upheavals like kicking his friend Bob Fay out of Sebadoh, putting the Folk Implosion's indie credibility on the line, or moving away from the city that has been a home to both of Barlow's bands for the past eight years.

Barlow, who told me last year that Sebadoh had never played well in front of a Boston audience, marked the occasion with one of the best solo sets I've ever seen him do. Maybe it was simply that the mood of the moment liberated him from the sometimes paralyzing fits of self-consciousness that have in the past plagued his live shows -- on more than one occasion he's interrupted otherwise solid Sebadoh and solo sets to apologize profusely, earnestly, and unnecessarily for the poor quality of the performance, a habit that's made him both an endearing and a frustrating fixture on the local scene. Or perhaps, now that he's got bigger things to worry about, a missed chord or an imperfect guitar strum doesn't seem like such a big deal anymore.

Whatever the case, Barlow delivered a confidently relaxed 14-song acoustic set in front of a capacity crowd of 100 or so friends and fans. He stuck mainly to bittersweet Sebadoh fare, including the heart-wrenching "Too Pure" (from last year's Sub Pop album Harmacy), the paranoid "Soul and Fire" (from 1993's Bubble $ Scrape), and the soul-searching "Vampire" (from 1992's Smash Your Head on the Punk Rock), which he introduced as the first song he wrote after moving to Boston in 1990. He also invited his Folk Implosion partner John Davis (who will remain in Boston) up for a messy rendition of their "Daddy Never Understood" (from the Kids soundtrack). And rather than apologizing for minor missteps, he spent time between songs giving away various personal belongings -- bags of vinyl singles, a tape deck, a CD player, a graphic equalizer.

It was a fittingly low-key farewell from a performer whose smart sensitive-guy songwriting, melancholy melodies, tunefully ragged guitar playing, underdog persona, and prolific output have made him one of indie rock's most enduring heroes. The show opened with Barlow's buddy Mark Peretta, an honorary member of the Deluxx Folk Implosion, performing half-formed joke songs with Steve Matthewson, a guitarist who traveled in the same circle as J Mascis back in the mid '80s, when Barlow was playing bass in Dinosaur Jr. at UMass/Amherst. Next up were Come guitarist Chris Brokaw and David Curry, a local musician (formerly in $50, currently in Jumbo) who used to eat lunch with Barlow when they were in high school in Westfield. They played a mixture of avant-rock instrumentals and angular rock tunes.

Then came another indie-rock underdog hero, singer/songwriter Elliott Smith, who, in what had to be the evening's strangest connection, worked in the bakery at the Northampton supermarket where Barlow regularly shopped in 1989. Although Smith apologized for singing "off key," he played a strong set of bittersweet acoustic folk rock that drew from the two discs he's released on Kill Rock Stars. The bill was rounded out by Steve Westfield (the first performer Barlow claims he ever saw play) and his little big band, who came on directly before Barlow, and the art-punk hardcore outfit Fat Day, who topped off the night by unleashing a deft and deafening assault of thundering bass, drums, guitar, and, yes, trombone.

Although he was uncharacteristically optimistic when we spoke a few days before the show, Barlow is clearly still coming to terms with the events of the past year. "I can't tell if 1997 was the longest or shortest year I've been through, the best or worst. It was one long, drawn-out transition. I think that helped fuel Kathleen's and my decision to move -- I mean, goddammit, after this whole year I need some kind of tangible feeling of change."

He confirmed that Folk Implosion are just a step away from signing a deal with Interscope, and that the next Sebadoh album will be coming out on Sub Pop through the label's new partnership with Sire. It will be the final disc of the band's current contract. He and singer/guitarist/bassist Jason Loewenstein, who still lives in Louisville, have already replaced Bob Fay with 22-year-old Louisville-based drummer Russ Pollard. Fay, who got the boot in September, is living in LA, and Barlow reports that they've repaired their friendship.

"I've been totally fucked over in the past, so I tried to deal with Bob as directly as I could, but, well, if I told you the whole story you'd understand why Bob was so pissed. When we were putting together the last Sebadoh record, Jason and I had the realization that Bob's drumming wasn't bringing the songs to where they should be. We tried to deny that because Bob is an amazing friend and we all got along so well. But after all the touring, Kathleen, my wife, and Kelly, Jason's fiancée, did this intervention where they got us in a room together and told us that they were sick of us complaining about Bob's drumming, that it was hurting our friendship, and that it was time to shit or get off the pot. So Jason and I decided to jam and put the album together on our own. But when I got to Louisville we met Russ and, well, I really didn't think that Bob and I were ever going to be able to be friends again.

"I do think that with Bob we zeroed in on a sound, but it was limited. When we first played with Russ, he was trying to stick to that sound, and it really bummed me out. I looked at certain songs on Harmacy, like 'Too Pure,' and I felt that if we had really been capable of blowing a song like that out, the way a rock band blows things out, it would be great. One thing that's always amazed me about rock bands is that they can make the dullest chord progressions sound really clamorous and glamorous and cool. You know that feeling when the drummer is just going off? [Producer] Tim O'Heir said this thing to us when we were recording Harmacy -- 'Lou, man, when the guitar solo of "Too Pure" kicks in, there should be some kid in Arkansas who almost loses control of his car.' "

As for the move, Barlow admits that he'll "really miss living in the Back Bay. But there's a social climate out in LA that I think I kind of need. I think Boston promotes this cave-dwelling part of my personality a little too much. I have all these close friends in Boston who I never see. I never was able to rationalize that, I always just thought I was lame. I think if I liked myself a lot more -- if I were really secure in who I am and what I'm doing -- I'd stay in Boston in a second. But I'm in this weird period right now, musically and personally. And when I think of waking up and walking into my living room in Silver Lake, where I can look out to the ocean, and still be close to downtown LA -- it'll be like living in Super Somerville."