There’s a fleeting moment in the 1963 rendition of “Sweet Dreams” by country legend Patsy Cline that’s easy to miss, but it carries the weight of the song’s whole world. Before belting out the most thundering chorus of her remarkable career, the superhuman performer does something distinctly human: She takes a breath.
“That’s the part that makes you cry,” says recording artist and author Neko Case. “It’s not what she’s saying. It’s her human reaction. It’s very popular now in production to strip every element like that and make sure there’s no other sounds, no human sounds, other than the instrumentation. I like the ‘humans were here’ sounds … the sound of the music breathing.”
So it goes on Neon Grey Midnight Green, the eighth studio album released under Case’s own name. Titled after the moody colors swabbing the overcast skies and emerald treelines of her Pacific Northwest home, the self-produced LP released last fall via ANTI- Records retains those distinctly human sounds — a subtle inhale, the sound of a rusting shirtsleeve — among the artist’s trademark swirl of sultry Americana, driving indie rock and baroque art pop.
Her music isn’t the only place you’ll find this human element. The album comes on the heels of Case’s debut memoir, The Harder I Fight the More I Love You, a tender and touching account of her journey from a lonely girl “raised by two dogs and a space heater” in rural Washington to a Grammy-nominated iconoclast whose work as a solo artist and with alt-rock supergroup The New Pornographers has cemented her status as one of the century’s most celebrated indie musicians.
Caribou Current called up the 55-year-old artist during a recent Indiana tour stop, ahead of a four-night run of Colorado shows in Boulder, Fort Collins, Grand Junction and Aspen, to talk about her fierce and fiery new record, becoming more powerful with age and honoring departed friends who left an indelible mark on her life.
Editor’s Note: The following has been edited for length and clarity.
We’re all very stoked about your upcoming Colorado dates. It looks like we’re getting more shows than anywhere else. What did we do to get so lucky?
You guys just are excited and come to shows. I can’t thank you enough for being so enthusiastic.
You collaborated with the PlainsSong Orchestra in Denver on your new record. How did that partnership come together?
My friend Tom Hagerman [of DeVotchKa] is living in Denver, and he’s the person who did the orchestrations on the record. He works with the PlainsSong Orchestra, and he has a company where he does organ orchestrations for people. It just worked out naturally. When it was time to record, I came out to Colorado to observe and it was seamless and lovely.
What was it like watching an orchestra perform your music?
I basically cried through the whole thing. Full disclosure: I did a lot of crying, because it was so overwhelming. It was really a transcendent experience to see them, because that’s as close as you can get as a musician to truly hearing your own music. It’s really moving, and humbling, and eye-opening. I’ve never experienced a feeling like that before. It was otherworldly. It was like being outside your body.
I wanted to use an orchestra on a record for a really long time. In the world of streaming and not making any money, I maybe got one of the last advances people are ever going to get. So I thought, “Well, it’s do or die.” I wanted to represent for actual musicians in the room on this record. I got the opportunity, so I wasn’t gonna let that go.
This is being described as your first self-produced album, even though you’ve performed that role on your past studio efforts as well. Can you talk about what it means to embrace that title for yourself this time?
I’ve produced a lot of records, but this is the first time I’ve given myself the credit solo. Unless you write the songs, play all the instruments, do the engineering, do the mixing and do the mastering yourself, with no other people, then producing is always collaborative. I wrote all the songs, and I have veto power, because it’s my project and I also owned the studio most of the recording was done in. I just decided it was time, partly because I think I deserve the credit. But that doesn’t mean it takes credit away from other people.
I also want to remind people that producers aren’t just men, you know? Sometimes when I think about producers and who would be good for this or that, I too forget there are women and non-binary people who produce records — there’s just not nearly as many of us.
You tried to retain ambient sounds like breathing and shirt-sleeve rustlings in the final mix. Why was it important for you to keep that stuff in the music?
I always think about the Patsy Cline song “Sweet Dreams,” where she says, “I should hate you the whole night through.” There’s a part where she sucks in her breath and you can hear it. That’s the part that makes you cry. It’s not what she’s saying. It’s her emotional, human reaction.
It’s very popular now in production to strip every element like that to make sure there are no other sounds, no human sounds, other than the instrumentation. Even a lot of that is processed in a way that makes it sound more machine-y than human-y. I’m not saying that doesn’t sound good. I’m just saying [the human element] is not that common anymore, and it’s something I really value in music. I like the “humans were here” sounds, so I wanted to leave them. They’re not super noticeable. They don’t interfere with anything. It’s just the sound of the music breathing.
That feels especially important in a world where AI is encroaching on more and more of our lives.
It feels important to me too. Thank you for saying that.
This has been your longest break between solo records, though you’ve obviously been plenty busy over these past few years. How did it feel to get back into the studio with these new songs?
It was the greatest, especially because it was my own studio. My partner Jeff [Galegher] engineered for the most part. We’re a good team, so it just felt very comfortable. There’s something so pleasing about being in your own space with that sweatpants, relaxed feeling. It really is nice.
As far as other projects go, they didn’t influence so much what I was doing. I’m a compartmentalizer, so having three or four projects at a time allows me to use one project to procrastinate from the others. So even though I’m procrastinating, I’m still getting something done. It’s a really odd way to work; classic ADHD behavior. It was kind of a nice escape for me to work on the record.
You wrote a memoir during that time as well, which I imagine is pretty different from making a record. What do those two forms have in common from a creative standpoint, and where do they depart? Did anything about that process surprise you?
In common, there are times when you get to just let yourself be free and write whatever you want. That feels good. I don’t really talk about myself so much in my own music. I mean, I’m always there; my perspective is the only one I have, so I can’t not be in the music. But I would never choose to tell my own story. It’s just not something I would do naturally.
When you’re telling your own story, it’s hard to not feel like, “God, how am I going to make this so it’s not super boring to everyone?” Because your life is your life, and it doesn’t seem like an extraordinary thing when it’s the only life you have. You know what I mean? I’m not an astronaut or anything, so I don’t feel large in that way.
Well, we’re glad you made that choice to share your life with us. It’s such a beautiful and moving book.
Thank you. I didn’t think it would be fun, but I had a really great editor named Carrie Fry who gave me good prompts and writing exercises. She’s such a wonderful person. I looked forward to our meetings every Tuesday. We would Zoom and talk about it, and she just made it a really good time. I owe her a lot for that.
Let’s switch gears back to music. You’ve said that you felt more confident writing songs on this record than you ever had before. What do you think accounts for that?
I’m 55. I know menopause has a lot to do with it. My body has gone through a second adolescence where my hormones have changed again, and I think differently. I have way less tolerance for bullshit, and I am just way more present. I’m more powerful, but I’m more forgiving. I’m more tender. I just have a kind of confidence that feels comfortable, not like I have to drum it up.
I’m glad you mentioned the word power, because you’ve said before that you want your music to remind people of their own power. Who or what reminds you of yours? What makes you feel powerful?
The people I know and look up to. People who do way more than I do. I have friends who just blow me away, and there are several that come to mind.
A year ago yesterday, my friend Diane passed away, and her partner, Beth, tried to save her life with CPR. It was really difficult, and she saved her body, but she had an aneurysm, so legally she was brain dead. I sat with her and Beth in her final days, and it was so difficult and so beautiful. I was so proud of Beth for her strength and what she was able to do. Because she saved Diane’s body, they were able to save the lives of three other people.
I remember walking down the hallway for the final walk with Diane and Beth, and every single healthcare provider in the hospital came and stood in the hallway and saluted her. It was called the Honor Walk. I looked at all those doctors and healthcare providers, and there were people from all over the world — the exact people our government is trying to get rid of. It was just a higher place. It was a better place, and it was the real place we’re trying to get to: a real place that exists already. That reminds me what we’re fighting for and what it means to hold fast and to really love your community.
In another interview, you said “Grief gives you incredible gifts if you’re willing to look it in the eyes.” Is that story an example of what these gifts have looked like in your life?
Absolutely. That one is exceptional. I’ve never witnessed anything like it: the beauty and the grace of humanity. But yes, people are very afraid of grief. They’re very afraid of death, and there’s no reason to be, especially if you engage and get to know it a little bit.
I know people who have cancer, or they’re terminally ill, and they say people avoid them in that state. It makes me so sad. They fear death, but death is a part of life, and the gifts are huge. The knowledge is there, and it makes us whole and stronger. I think that goes for facing anything that’s hard or you’re trying to avoid. You are strong enough to get through it.
The new record pays homage to a number of late musicians who influenced your life, but it also honors the living.
Yes, definitely. I’ve lost so many people, and it’s definitely a tribute to them, but it’s also a love letter to the people who are living — because you want to tell them while they’re still alive what they mean to you.
We’re just about out of time. Is there anything else we didn’t get a chance to talk about that you’d like to say before we hop off this call?
Well, if you’d be willing to do one thing for me, I would be really grateful. In memory of my sweet friend Diane, would you say that I would ask people to think about becoming organ donors? Because I saw it save lives, and I am forever changed by that.
Neko, I will do my damnedest to get that into the story.
Thank you so much. Thanks for writing about my tour. It means a lot.
ON THE BILL: Neko Case with Destroyer. 7 p.m. Sunday, March 15, Boulder Theater, 2032 14th St. Tickets here.
