Singer, songwriter, author, and actor John Doe balances his busy summer playing with his pioneering punk band X, but also the inaugural tour of the John Doe Trio, on the heels of his latest album Fables in a Foreign Land, just out on Fat Possum Records.
The man who helped write “Los Angeles” and personified the punk scene there (chronicling its rise in a pair of books, Under the Big Black Sun and More Fun in the New World) has been living in Austin for the past five years or so where he met the players in his trio, bassist Kevin Smith of Willie Nelson’s band and drummer Conrad Choucroun.
Doe’s new songs reflect collaborations with Terry Allen (“Never Coming Back”), Shirley Manson of Garbage, longtime writing partner Exene Cervenka (“Destroying Angels”), and Louie Perez of Los Lobos (“El Romance-O”). The tunes coalesce not just in their folky, back-to-basics style, but with their surprising 19th century setting—they all take place in the pre-industrial 1890s.
We talked to Doe just before his tour, which kicked off in Virginia.
What brought you to Texas and how has it changed your point of view, if it has?
I would say if it wasn’t for living in Texas, this record wouldn’t have been made. Because it was all created on Kevin Smith’s back patio without amps, and without PAs, and just sitting out there singing and playing. Also, some of the images, especially for down South, were written here. All the songs were written here, and any artist reacts to their surroundings.
Did you meet Smith there, or did you know him before?
We did meet here, but it’s been maybe eight years or so. We kind of hit it off from the beginning. He was a fan of X, but I’m a fan of rockabilly bass players. It pushed him and Conrad in a different role because I’m not a great guitar player. So they had space and the need to get into more melody, which is the great advantage of a trio.
I imagine the pandemic shutdown gave you the time to develop this.
Yeah. I called up Kevin in April 2020, and said, “Willie is not doing anything, right?” And he says no, he’s not. I said, “Well me neither,” because X wasn’t touring, so I asked him if I could come over just for the hell of it. And he said, absolutely, come on. And then onward came a month or so later. We worked for about a year and a half. Other songs would come along and we’d work on that. We’d play covers and see what was similar to the cover that we played and what we were playing now. We just got to know each other musically.
Did the pandemic affect the songwriting, too?
Not directly, did it influence the content. But afterward I realized that there was a lot of loneliness and isolation which were definitely in play in the last couple of years. It allowed Kevin, Conrad and I to sit on Kevin’s back porch and figure out how we wanted this to sound. And I give them all the credit in the world for understanding that and having the ability to keep it in that world. It’s such a gift.
I was surprised to learn all the songs are set in 1890.
Everybody knows that’s the ticket to Top 10! Everybody’s talking about it! I’ll comp to the fact I was influenced by John Wesley Harding, the Bob Dylan record. That struck me at a time when I was 16 or 17, or maybe a little older. He created a mysterious world, and it was very stripped down, it was just him and Charlie McCoy and Kenny Buttrey and that was it. Maybe a couple guest stars. So I don’t know, it just happened that way.
Once I wrote “Never Coming Back,” I thought, this is a message: someone is fleeing, someone has to find which way they’re going to go and it’s all foreign because they’ve never left home before. I think we’re all like that.
Personally I’m sick to death of learning curves, and trying to figure out new technology and things like that. I do it, because I want to be part of the world. And so writing about a time that’s more elemental—not simple. But you had to really live through the elements—when a real bear could get you, not a proverbial one.
So it just kind of went that way. Not in an accidental or offhand way. Once it started, I had to be disciplined to make it happen, to make it be that. And that was exciting too. I don’t usually do that.
Did you have to steer certain songs to stay in that space?
Maybe a little bit. But once I had gone down the path I kept letting the imagination take over. Like “See the Almighty,’ someone from that period would have a traditional religious upbringing and when they’re feeling abandoned in a vast landscape, they’re thinking, why me? They’re thinking like Job and saying “What the hell, man?” There was some thought put into it, but I kind of just let intuition or imagination take over.
Was there research as well?
Not really. I mean, a bit. I’ve read some fiction, historical fiction of that time. There was a good book set in Texas called The Son recently and there was another book called Gloryland about a black soldier who was stationed at Yosemite when the Army used to patrol Yosemite.
Yeah, it’s a fascinating time. I didn’t do an academic dive into what folk music was supposed to sound like, or what music at that time sounded like. It’s just my version of what folk music is.
There does seem to be more religious references on it than on your past recordings.
Getting older will do that to you won’t it? I think that it’s natural to get more spiritual as you get older. I have definitely become more spiritual in that I believe in some sort of fate and maybe a higher power, but not really a higher power. My religion is nature and I think we’re missing a big part of who we are if we deny that, or don’t take advantage of it, or get in there and do it. I think, hell, I’m almost 70 so I’m going to think about mortality and that plays in there as well in the lyrics and stories of these songs.
Despite your age, there’s still quite a youthfulness in your voice.
I’m young at heart. That’s what music will do for you. You know, I stopped smoking a long time ago, and I try to take care of myself, I don’t drink as much. But I also have good genes I guess, I don’t know. I’m grateful. I’m very grateful for it.
You said you began writing by doing covers with the band. Which ones did you do?
“The Big Rock Candy Mountain,” which I think is a little bit similar to [the new song] “Where the Songbirds Live,” because it’s kind of a dream. And then there’s another cowboy song that I’d learned as a kid called “Sierra Peaks.” And that’s pretty similar to “The Cowboy and the Hot Air Balloon.” It’s just a long story. “Sierra Peaks” is about two cowboys who go into town, get drunk, and on the way home they encounter the devil. And they have a fight.
So you started with old cowboy songs.
Yeah, they’re old-fashioned songs. And we do some country western songs just because we all live in Texas.
What are the covers you’re going to do on tour?
Let’s see, what covers do we do? As a tribute to the record that I did with the Sadies, we do “A Fool Such as I.” And we do “Help Me Make it Through the Night,” and we do “Tennessee Border.” And we actually do a cover of “I Only Have Eyes for You,” which is pretty fun, unexpected.
This is your first record for Fat Possum?
Yes, although X’s records were reissued by Fat Possum. I really dig their method and it seems like they make business decisions by what’s cool. “We’re going to do something for this record: What’s cool?” And if that’s your barometer then you’re not going to be disappointed, Even if it doesn’t get you where you wanted to get, you still did something that was cool.
It seems like they’re pretty attuned to roots as well.
Hell, they started the record company with R.L. Burnside and Junior Kimbrough! I mean, what a business plan! “Here’s what we’re going to do guys, we’re going to start a record company with two middle-aged black men that nobody knows.”
Is the solo material strictly separate from your work in X or do they come together at some point?
They do. Lyrically, there’s a lot of similarities between this new record and old X stuff. They’re all stories, they’re times of change or crisis or decision. It takes a minute or a few days to get back in the mindset of playing punk rock or playing folk music. They’re both pretty straightforward and simple. I try to do that.
Is it a good thing to have that balance?
Oh yeah. I am eternally grateful for the work X has done. If it wasn’t for that, I wouldn’t have a career. And we all like each other, and it’s really rewarding to see young people come out and want to see punk rock as it was originally made.
Is that who is coming out to see X? Young people who never had an opportunity to see it before? Or older fans glad to see the band again?
It’s both. Sometimes multigenerational with moms and sons or dads and daughters. And then people who want to hear two songs. They want to hear “Los Angeles” and, I don’t know, “Breathless,” or something like that. And that’s cool. I can understand that.
Did you ever foresee a time when you’d be playing X songs to audiences decades later?
Oh, hell no. We were hoping that we’d get through the year. But on the other hand, anybody that starts a band, or gets involved in the arts in any way, as a writer or whatever, they can imagine a world [of success] or they can imagine burning out and being a hobo. We’re really fortunate we found the first one.
Do parts of the X catalog speak more strongly to you now than others?
Well, yeah. We do a sort of jazzy version of “I Must Not Think Bad Thoughts.” And when that was written, it was more tongue in cheek and ironic. We thought at that point, in 1983, the world had gone to hell and irreparably doomed, and didn’t realize how naive we were. Now it’s more of a prayer: I want to keep myself from thinking only bad thoughts.
You have to really deliver a song, you have to get inside it, and just make it true, make it real. We can do that. We’re journeymen. I used to think that was sort of a derogatory term. But at this point, it’s a pretty high compliment because you live through a bunch of stuff and you come out the other side and you’re still doing your thing.
Fables in a Foreign Land by the John Doe Folk Trio is in stores now via Fat Possum Records.
