The New Yorker Radio Hour - Bon Iver Live at the New Yorker Festival

Episode Date: July 9, 2021

In the winter of 2007, a songwriter by the name of Justin Vernon returned to the Wisconsin woods, not far from where he grew up. Just a few months later, he emerged with “For Emma, Forever Ago”—his first album produced under the name Bon Iver. Since then, Vernon and various bandmates have released three more records, won two Grammys, and collaborated with Kanye West, becoming one of the most celebrated bands in indie music. The music critic Amanda Petrusich spoke with Vernon at The New Yorker Festival, alongside his bandmates Brad Cook and Chris Messina. They discuss using made-up words as lyrics; Vernon’s deep, deep love of “Northern Exposure”; and how a group like Bon Iver engages with current events in today’s toxic political climate.    Bon Iver performed “U (Man Like),” “Marion,” and “RABi”; Vernon was accompanied by Sean Carey, Jenn Wasner, and Mike Lewis.     This story originally aired November 29, 2019 New Yorker Radio Hour listeners, we want to hear from you.  We have a few questions about the show and how you listen to it. The survey takes about twenty minutes, and your feedback will help us make our podcast better.  Take the survey here.

This is The New Yorker Radio Hour, a co-production of WNYC Studios and The New Yorker. Welcome to The New Yorker Radio Hour. I'm David Remnick. In the winter of 2007, a songwriter by the name of Justin Vernon returned to the Wisconsin Woods, not far from where he grew up. Just a few months later, he emerged with the album for Emma forever ago, and it was his first album produced under the name Bonie Verre. Since then, Vernon and various bandmates have released three more records. and won two Grammys. He also became a frequent collaborator

with Kanye West. The New Yorkers Amanda Petrusich spoke with Vernon at the New Yorker Festival back in 2019, along with Brad Cook and Chris Messina, who also worked on Bonne Verre's album, I comma I. A lot of people, I think, first came to

know you, Justin, as kind of a dude with a guitar, but in recent years, you've become something of a master collaborator. It seems to me that one of the central tensions of Bonie Ver is that kind of push-pull between the individual and the collective. So do you think of Boni-Veer as a band? Is it a more kind of fluid enterprise? It's never been nailed down for me. If anything, the closest I feel to a true way to describe it is, it's like a little town that's growing,

you know, forever and ever, and it did kind of start out with just me. But I'm always kind of constantly thinking about how you're never really alone. When you, when you, when you, when you, you are physically alone, you got there vis-a-vis the people that, you know, made you who you are. And so in a way, I think when I thought of that name, Bonne Verre, when it was just me playing the music, I did imagine a town, a community, so to speak. And so that's the closest I get to name in the thing. So as a Bonne Verre nerd, my sense of how you guys work is that it's somewhat modular. You're kind of building a song from pieces in the studio. And I'm curious, and this is a question for all three of you, how you know when a song is done.

Yeah, I definitely think there's times where half the room thinks a song might be done and the other half doesn't, and that could be years that it goes on. But I think what we ultimately figured out is it's a feeling. And I think, like, at least for the three of us, it was a pretty simple litmus test about, like, were we all psyched on the song? Do we all feel like this was moving us at the core? And we left Texas feeling pretty confident. We still readdressed a few little things.

But I think that's all it ever. It can be with this is that because I think the way that Justin writes includes so much possibility from source material, for example, you know, that I, we just got to like find whatever the common emotion is and then we sort of go from there and, you know, ultimately make room for the voice, however that happens. Yeah, looking at each other in the eye and being like, is it good? And then Chris, it usually would be like, no.

Chris, is that true? Are you the kind of control group? I suppose, so, yeah. I mean, I'm not always right. Chris is the most respectable officer on the force. Just an incredible record. So for Emma, through the new record, I think, is one of the most masterful four album runs I can think of, and also indicative, in my opinion, of a really extraordinary range in terms of style, tone, and sound.

And I wonder, and again, this is a question for all three of you. Do you think about genre? I mean, either as listeners or as performers, producers, is that kind of figure into your experience of music, kind of questioning what genre is this, or even interrogating yourself in terms of what genre is? you are drawn to. I've never liked the, I've never liked genres. I mean, you know, I got to meet Quincy. We got to meet Quincy Jones and maybe,

maybe consciously we do try to screw things up a lot to just like shake loose any sort of, you know, somebody's staring at you, you feel like they're going to melt a laser hole through your brain or something because they're expecting you to do something. But I don't think we don't want that. Yeah. Yeah. So there's a song on The New Reckon.

that's effectively titled Shittiest Day in American History. And there are a few other tracks that allude to the national condition, to climate change, to our president. I'm curious as songwriters and producers how much politics you're kind of comfortable allowing into the room. Because I think it's a balance a lot of artists are struggling with right now, kind of how big of a, you know, how much space you should give those ideas. It's so tough. It's so tough.

You, you know, Got in a, you know, argument with, I'm name dropping Kanye now, but got in a big argument, you know, with him about it. And I was willing to listen to a certain point. And then I just wasn't because I ran out of patience. And I think we all, we run out of patience sooner than we'd all like to think. And it's amazing to me that people that I, you know, agree with mostly would be, you know, more on the left. and I feel like it's, you know, people with empathy. But when you're looking at the right side or the side that I look at

and I always imagine to be, you know, evil or something, to not go there, to not approach with like pure love and empathy, it's you're just, you're going to be in a battle. But then again, I don't really know how, I don't know how to do that. I don't know to have that much patience. I don't know how to get not angry when I'd like to be better at that personally. But, I mean, as a musician, you can sing about it

and you can emote about it and feel about it. I mean, being open to understanding that we aren't right, I think is probably our best bet. And certainly writing songs is a vulnerable place to be in to start. So, I mean, lyrically, Justin, I feel like your work tends to completely, resist narrative

extrapolation. You often are telling traditional stories, or at least you're not telling them in traditional ways. And I think your language is really beautiful and it's really evocative and it's complicated. And I'm curious how you write lyrics sort of what the process is. Do you keep a notebook? Is it more spontaneous

and improvised? Yeah. I mean there's certainly a lot of that, a lot of trying to improvise something into existence that will exist forever. but sometimes he also got to just work you know it took it took uh some pretty firm hand holding of brad because there's just big giant holes or like or i'd be like no i think that's it i don't know why i don't even know what those words are if they are words but we need to keep it or um but just to have

the you know you have to put in the work um and it isn't it isn't easy you know just started writing in a notebook again instead of my computer um just to get it's much less distraction. So you're always tweaking it, I guess. There was a typewriter at one point. I was trying to be like retro, yeah. I mean, it's like a romance thing.

It's like I'm a writer. I better have like a Smith and Corona. I think the million lyrics came out on there. Oh yeah, the million lyrics did come out on the typewriter. Hot. Worth every penny. $20 probably. All million of them.

I should add one. more a little detail that's kind of a context clue. Is that invention of words too? It's part of the fabric of at least Justin, but our friendship and that we used to play Scrabble and just completely not use actual words. The only rule, and this was Stone Cold Series, the only rule is you just had to confidently define

whatever your word was. We got one quick word we have to share was Brad's word, Scunlet. S-C-U-N-L-I-T. It looks gross on paper. It looks gross, but, and we asked him, we asked him through tears of laughter what the definition of Scunlet was, and he just looked at me dead in the eyes.

He says, it's a group of motorcycle dudes ripping a 180 at one time in a parking lot. Just got to go there. Rip a Scunlet boys. Scunlet. It's very Shakespearean. So, Justin, I, too. you, I'm a very big Northern Exposure fan. I'm holding for applause. There's no Northern Exposure fans. I had to resist making this entire Q&A about the series, but I have to ask you, while we have a minute

left on the clock, what are your thoughts about the reboot? There's a reboot? I can't believe I'm telling you this news. I've signed at least five online petitions. And I didn't know. I didn't know. When did this happen? You made it happen, apparently. They have announced. this year that they are, you know, circling the wagons. There's going to be a new season. I'm not going to say I'm worried. Yeah. I am a little worried about that, but also uncontrollably excited.

I mean, that's where the name of the band comes from. If you don't know, I was watching an episode. It's called First Snow. And it's like the whole episode is like not people going on a diet, like eating a lot of pie and pancakes to like, well, got a carboload for the winter. and I just like, that's my people. And so, and then every year for the first snow, they walk out and they greet each other and they say, Bonne Verre. And I just was like, that's it.

That's my, that's me. That's my town. That's my upbringing. That's where I exist. I just, it's my favorite, it's like, I wouldn't call it my favorite TV show. It's my favorite thing ever. It just speaks to me so deeply. we have time to hear some music.

So before we leave the stage, I just want to thank you guys so much for coming. Thanks, y'all. Thank you. Thank you very much. The New Yorker's Amanda Petrusich speaking with Justin Vernon in 2019, along with his co-producers, Brad Cook and Chris Messina.

And two years down the line, we're still looking forward to that Northern Exposure reboot. Stick around for a live performance from the band in just a moment. This is the New Yorker Radio Hour. I'm David Remnick. This is the New Yorker Radio Hour. Now, this hour, we've been hearing conversations, recorded at the New Yorker Festival, and before we go, we've got a live performance from 2019 by the band Boni Vair, led by singer-songwriter Justin Verde.

I will see you up now down the back I got to show you. There was dormer and there's right in the common case. It ain't nothing that you're saying is true with your long I'll give some time This thing We've been leaving The last show we play In the encore

By the way Encores are weird, right? We should just call them what they really are is pee breaks We assume that we're going to get an encore Because everyone always gets an encore It seems

That's not being self-diminishing But We, at the end of the night We like to play this This song I hope you enjoy It's the last song on our record. And it's kind of what we were talking about earlier.

I think it's got all the stuff in it. Thanks for supporting us. I'll see you okay. Thank you. That was Boni Vair, Justin Vernon, accompanied by Sean Carey, Jen Wassner, and Mike Lewis. They performed at the New Yorker Festival in 2019.

Their latest record is called, I, comma, I. I'm David Remnick. Thanks for listening. and we'll see you next time. The New Yorker Radio Hour is a co-production of WNYC Studios and The New Yorker. Our theme music was composed and performed by Merrill Garbus of Tune Arts, with additional music by Alexis Quadrato.

The New Yorker Radio Hour is supported in part by the Cherina Endowment Fund.