Earlier this year, the Portland band Blitzen Trapper released its 10th studio album, “100’s of 1000’s, Millions of Billions.” The band found success in 2008 with the release of their album “Furr.” Founding members Eric Earley and Brian Adrian Koch join us in the studio, along with fellow band member Nathan Vanderpool, to play some songs and talk about the new album, which is based on songs that Earley recorded on four-track tapes in the early ’90s.
Note: The following transcript was created by a computer and edited by a volunteer.
Jenn Chávez: From the Gert Boyle Studio at OPB, this is Think Out Loud. I’m Jenn Chávez. Earlier this year, Portland’s own Blitzen Trapper released their 10th studio album. They’ve been a band for more than 20 years and took off in 2008 with the release of their album “Furr.” Their newest record is called “100′s of 1000′s, Millions of Billions” – which is a really cool name.
So happy Tuesday! We are bringing you some music today. Blitzen Trapper’s, Eric Earley, Brian Adrian Koch and Nathan Vanderpool are here with us in the studio today. Eric, Brian and Nathan, welcome to Think Out Loud.
Eric Earley: Thank you.
Brian Adrian Koch: Thank you for having us.
Nathan Vanderpool: Thanks very much.
Chávez: So why don’t we have some fun and start off with a song. And if you could tell me a little bit about what we’re about to hear, what people should know about this song.
Earley: OK, this song’s called “Planetarium.” And it’s kind of just like a sort of psychedelic chronicle of my spiritual journey over the last five years, or something like that.
Chávez: All right, let’s hear it.
[“Planetarium” playing by Blitzen Trapper]
I’ve been living like a ghost inside myself upon a shelf
On a distant planet, a crooked house that never sleeps
And this river that unwinds within my spine records the time
A thousand ripples racing from a pebble’s fall
While a lone coyote walks upon a highway running south
Drifting up into my mouth, a silent hemisphere
And in the quiet of my mind I find a stairway leading up
With amber lights that flicker like a sleeping storm whose form will remain
And I’m lost up forty flights of stairs with everyone in the world who cares
Searching for a sign upon the galaxy
See me sitting with the one I love in the planetarium
Silent, still and spacious as the axis turns, you learn to let go
I’ve been drifting like a ghost through the memories I love most
Like a grifter trading tarnished coin for future days
But with each death I’m reborn only to fall upon the thorn
And join the dance of light and energy that never fades or falls away
And I’m lost up forty flights of stairs with everyone in the world who cares
Searching for a sign upon the galaxy
See me sitting with the one I love in the planetarium
Silent, still and spacious as the axis turns, you learn to let go
Chávez: Oh my gosh. [clapping] Sorry, I’m making up for the fact that this isn’t a room full of people cheering for you. But that was amazing. The vibe has been set. Those harmonies [italian finger kiss]. So this is “Planetarium” from y’all’s newest album, “100′s of 1000′s, Millions of Billions.” I understand that the title has its basis in Buddhist scripture, right? Why did you choose to name this music that way? What does that mean to you?
Earley: The record before this one was really based on “The Tibetan Book of the Dead,” and a lot of the stories and teachings in that document. And after that, I just went down this rabbit hole of reading Buddhist sutras. I have a pretty vibrant practice that I do. So the title of the album is a phrase that’s used a lot in the Mahāyāna scriptures as a way to sort of open your mind up to the reality of the vastness, as well as the smallness of this reality that we live in. And it utilizes a kind of hyperbolic look at the world, I guess you’d say.
Chávez: So I understand that this album was drawn from 4-track recordings that you made in the early ‘90s, right? So I am not a musician but I did write when I was younger and I imagine if I revisited anything I wrote in the ‘90s, it would be a trip. It would maybe even seem like it was written by a different person. How did you go about reapproaching and repurposing something that you had written so long ago?
Earley: I did a lot of 4-track recordings as a kid. I remember my dad bought me one when I was 18 or 19, and I just started writing and recording music. I have this big box in the closet at home that’s just full of these old tapes.
I just borrowed a 4-track recently and just started listening through them. And there was so much material. I [thought], “Some of these are really cool.” So I started pulling them out and rewriting lyrics, and looking through and seeing what resonated with me now.
Chávez: So what resonated with you about that song we just heard?
Earley: That song isn’t part of … not all the songs are drawn from it. That’s a new song actually.
Chávez: Right on, cool. You mentioned 4-track. Were you playing all the parts on these recordings?
Earley: Yeah, it’s the way I learned how to record music. We didn’t have all the home studios and stuff like you do now. So, yeah, I just learned how to write music with that machine and a bunch of cassettes.
Chávez: Do you see parts of yourself at that time, 19- [or] 20-year-old you, that you recognize now? I mean, how does this project give you maybe the opportunity to communicate with your former self?
Earley: It’s weird. Sometimes I feel like I’ve gone full circle in a lot of ways. A lot of the ways that I was approaching and thinking about my life, and about art and the world. It has come back to ways I was thinking at that time. I’m not sure why, other than I think we get lost in our lives sometimes over the years. You have to find a way back to those moments of magic and weirdness that made you who you were and makes life great.
Chávez: Can we hear another song? So, once again, tell us what this song is and what we should know about it.
Earley: This song is called “So Divine.” And I believe this one was drawn from a dream I had, a group of dreams. I kept dream journals and … me and you, Brian, have both kept dream journals throughout the years. But I started to pull lyrics from some of these and that’s what this one is.
[”So Divine” playing by Blitzen Trapper]
Did you ever know you were my waking dream?
A silent scream
In a world so mean
You were my waking dream
Howling rain against this windowpane
In a falling aeroplane
And I’m the only one to blame
‘Cause time is measured here in miles
The space between the sound of every breaking heart
Love, please wake us from this dream
The nightmares in-between seem somehow so divine
So divine
Did you ever know you were my lock and key?
And I’m the deep blue sea
An endless mystery
That washes over me
Creeping fog
And I’m a stray old dog
A walking lightning rod
Or just a lonely God
‘Cause time, we measure it in tears
In photographic fears and final fantasies
Love, please wake us from this dream
The nightmares in-between seem somehow so divine
So divine, so divine
Chávez: That was Blitzen Trapper, in the studio with us, with their track “So Divine.” Thank you very much.
I am curious to talk more about dream journals because I have never been able to make a dream journal work for me. So first of all, you’ve also written dream journals. Have you ever drawn from those, in a musical sense, before?
Koch: Frequently. Yeah.
Chávez: Could both of you talk about how you do that? Like how you make sense of a dream in a song? Because I’m very curious about that.
Koch: Well, I don’t know if you ever make sense of a dream.
Chávez: That is a very good point.
Earley: It makes its own sense ya know?
Koch: There’s all kinds of dreams too. Once you have a dream journal, you realize that a lot of dreams are just sort of processing what happened during the day and might seem a little blasé, even if they’re rendered in a strange way. But then there are other dreams that stick and seem much more significant. I have some dreams from like 10 years ago that are still pretty vivid. They just seem like they happened.
I think the best way to foster a dream journal and to increase your dreaming is to start writing even any image that you bring back, write it down or speak it into your phone. And the habit of doing that will increase the likelihood of it happening again.
Chávez: Oh, that’s so interesting.
Koch: The sooner the better because it goes away so fast.
Earley: I’ve been studying this thing called Tibetan dream yoga where they give you ways to figure out how to become lucid in your dreams and to play with the dreams inside of them. One of the main things you do is, throughout your waking life, you should always stop every now and then and [think], “Is this a dream? Am I dreaming right now?” And then you start to realize it’s not that different. So then when you’re dreaming, you do that in your dreams and then suddenly you’re like, “Oh, I am dreaming?”
Koch: It’s like an existential double entendre.
Earley: Totally.
Chávez: This seems like a very good writing exercise that we can all do. I will just share this vaguely related thing. I once was doing a writing exercise because Pablo Neruda, the poet, wrote a series of morning poems that were all question poems. A great book by the way, “A Book of Questions.” That felt a little bit of a similar exercise, just like waking up first thing in the morning and asking questions.
Thank you all for having this conversation about dreams and remembering, and for that beautiful song. I wanted to ask both of you, because we’re talking about drawing music from these 4-track recordings from the ‘90s. What has it been like for y’all to come in and work on music that may have originated 30 years ago? How did you bring yourselves into creating this album?
Koch: I don’t think I realized that they were that old until he told me. So it’s interesting to me, having known Eric so long, that they fit right in with the newer songs as well. And there’s a sort of a through line in his writing process that, even when he was 18, it was infuriatingly good.
Earley: Thank you, Brian.
Koch: Yeah, you’re welcome.
Chávez: That is a cool realization to have, if you revisit something from that age and be like, “Oh, this isn’t bad.”
Koch: I don’t think I would have been able to do that with the songs I wrote when I was 18.
Chávez: You’ve been with the band for a couple years now, is that right? What has it been like, not only working on older music but joining a band that has been around for so long?
Vanderpool: It’s amazing. I started out with the band as their sound engineer a little over a decade ago. So I’ve been with the band for a while. We’ve been acquainted and obviously I’ve gotten to know the songs really well. But to be invited on stage with them has been a real treat.
Earley: Yeah, he was our sound guy for a long time. So, yeah, it’s pretty cool.
Vanderpool: Yeah, we’ve been playing music over the years for a long time. But the songs that came from a while ago, they do seem like nothing’s different.
Earley: And I recorded everything with him. He recorded the record.
Vanderpool: We recorded the last record at my place, which was a lot of fun.
Chávez: Well, there is a question I wanted to ask you, because I know you’ve done a lot of work and advocacy around homelessness in Oregon. It seems to me that line of work requires or fosters empathy in a person. Do you see any crossover perhaps in the part of yourself that does that work and the part of yourself that makes music? How do those two things that you do intersect, if they do?
Earley: I don’t know that they do. It’s kind of interesting that you ask. I’ve thought about it a lot. Writing songs, for me at least, is a very sort of solo, personal, in your bedroom kind of selfish thing, almost. It’s like writing in your journal secretly or something. And then you do share it with the world, at least some of it. So being a songwriter, it’s kind of a selfish thing in a lot of ways, although you do share the music.
Whereas, doing this kind of social work that I do is the opposite of that. You’re out in the community. I’m out with the people at the shelters. You really are asked to forget yourself and forget your voice, and use your voice to advocate for them. So it’s kind of the opposite, but it’s kind of cool because I think it’s balanced my world out.
Chávez: I was just thinking, when you were saying that – are they related through being the opposite, in terms of one providing you with one important thing and another providing you with a different important thing?
Earley: Yeah, and I’ve played music my whole life, and performed and toured for a long, long time. Yeah. So the past six years, doing that work has pulled me in a different way and it’s good. Like I said, I think there’s a balance involved.
Chávez: How is doing homeless advocacy work these days?
Earley: It’s always changing. I got into it right before COVID, the year before COVID. And then when COVID happened, everything changed and went kind of dark. To be honest, it got pretty dark. And then as we came out of it, things have changed again. So it’s kind of always changing the way that the money flows, and the way that the advocacy works, and the vouchers, and just the whole thing.
But I enjoy it. I think for me now, it has so much to do with just each day being different. Nothing ever stays the same. It’s not like a normal job. Every day is something weird, and strange, and sad, and sometimes terrifying, and sometimes amazing.
Chávez: Well, thank you for sharing. You’re doing this work in Portland and the Pacific Northwest. You have always been a Portland band. Any of you, feel free to tell me – does living in the Pacific Northwest inform or influence your music? Is your music rooted in this place for you?
Earley: Yeah. Absolutely. I think I didn’t ever realize it until the past few years, how rooted in this place it is. I grew up in Salem and kind of a smaller place. And, I don’t know, I never really thought of it as being a place. It was just where I lived. I moved to Portland, it was the music scene, everything was crazy and stuff.
More recently, I moved out to Scappoose, which is sort of like, in my opinion, the platonic ideal of Oregon, what people think of Oregon. It’s like the river, the woods, kind of small town but still kind of cool. There’s lots of hippies around. And the way the music has sort of happened and arisen over the years, just gives me the same feeling as where I’m living now. Yeah, it’s a weird thing. Yeah.
Chávez: You all are touring this year on this new record. I know the early days of the pandemic really had a profound impact on live music and touring artists. How does it feel to be on the other side of that, to be touring again this year?
Earley: It’s great. I mean, I love touring and I like playing music with my friends and hanging out and traveling around. Yeah. It’s just really freeing.
Koch: It’s bizarre. It feels like a Rip Van Winkle situation. It feels like being booted into a different timeline because everything just was so different for several years. And then now it’s like venues and bars, and things are happening, and it feels like nothing happened. But there’s a four-year gap of some really dark stuff and a lot of businesses didn’t survive. So waking up in 2024, just feels so odd. We’re living like nothing happened. But it’s totally different. The band is also different. We shifted personnel in 2020. So, it’s just strange.
Chávez: I relate to so much of what you’re saying. Not even as a playing musician, just this feeling of Rip Van Winkle-ness. Thank you for sharing that. Could you all play another song out of that? That would be great. I would love to hear another one. What will we be hearing? What should we be thinking about?
Earley: This song is called “Upon the Chain” and it’s, again, like a psychedelic rendering of a story of my uncle, who was put on a work crew in the ‘60s. He was my criminal uncle my whole life. I’m not sure where he is now. But he was put on a work crew and he broke out, stole a station wagon, and drove back to my dad’s place. I don’t know, it was just sort of one of those weird mythical stories. And he was a strange guy anyway. This is sort of for him, I guess you’d say.
[”Upon the Chain” playing by Blitzen Trapper]
Let the water turn the wheel ‘round, yeah
Let the sun shine on the vine for a time now, baby
See the boatman’s body is floating in the shoals
So be careless with your clothes
Don’t ask the wind just where it blows, for it knows
That there’s room enough for us upon the chain, yeah
Upon the chain
So strike the earth and let it bleed
Get your water from the well up by the truck now, baby
And in these days of great and timeless circumstance
See the stony sergeant dance
With a shotgun in his hand, he’s a man
‘Cause there’s room enough for us upon the chain, yeah
Upon the chain
My uncle broke out of the chain gang
He stole a station wagon somewhere in the Palo Verde
He drove back thinking about his girl up on the hill
With her needle and her spoon
And her kisses were like the moon
To his starry sky
Oh, I was just a kid trying not to cry
On a sunny day in east LA
Yeah my uncle got his fix that day
‘Cause there’s room enough for us upon the chain, yeah
Upon the chain
Chávez: That’s Blitzen Trapper, in the studio with us here at OPB, playing “Upon the Chain.” Y’all are so great. Thank you for coming in. This is such a fun Tuesday.
So as people who have been playing music for so many years, how do you find balance in your life as musicians these days, balancing other work, other things that you’re doing? And how has that changed as you’ve gotten older or been in it for longer? How do you find that balance?
Earley: It’s funny because when we started way back in ‘07, ‘08, we toured eight months out of the year. And our life was just on the road and playing music or recording music or hanging out with other bands and stuff.
And now, I only do like a month out of the year, maybe. I just don’t tour that much anymore. So the shows are more special for one thing, and the trips are more about enjoying the journey as opposed to just getting to the next show, playing the next show. You know what I mean?
Normally, I’m at home. I’ve got a daughter, and a wife, and a house, and stuff. And so normally, I’m working my job, hanging with my family and stuff. So when we hit the road, it’s like, “Oh, yeah, we get to stretch out and play music.”
Koch: There’s a lot more gratitude involved for me at least.
Vanderpool: Yeah, absolutely.
Chávez: Thank you so much and I know you have one more song. I thought maybe we could have you play us out today. So thank you so much. Eric Earley, Brian Adrian Koch and Nathan Vanderpool are members of Portland’s Blitzen Trapper. Their newest album is called “100s of 1000s, Millions of Billions.”
[”Lady on the Water” playing by Blitzen Trapper]
Lady on the water, make me rich, make me poor
Lay your flowers at my door
Lady on the water, bring me branches, bring me twine
Graft my heart upon the vine
With your wine down my feathers, as the cock crows given time
Oh, to wake my lady on the water, share my bread and share my drink
Pay no mind what others think
Lady on the water whip this wind into a flame
With your grapes and bottled rain
Make your wine of my worship of divinely strange refrain
Oh, to make it rain
My lady on the water, place your thumb upon my tongue
Leave a song no one has sung
Lady on the water with your jacket blue and strange
Change these rivers in my veins
Into wine, learnin’, burnin’, driven deep into this maze
All of my days
My lady on the water, lead me from the wilderness
Through countless deserts, dreams and jests
Lady on the water, rest my head upon your chest
Leave me only when I’m blessed
‘Cause I’ll be in my own country
Good and dead and gone to rest
Is the way it’s the best
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