at the mercy of other people's generosity - conversation with Ciarra Fragale

good morning ~

(click the link / farm to listen)

today’s track is an excerpt from a live ceremony I never performed, bask in it :)

if you are a citizen of the United States I really hope you intentionally and publicly enjoy today’s Juneteenth federal holiday (and here’s a helpful link if you aren’t familiar)

one quick Ben Seretan update: Youth Pastoral reissue LPs have finally arrived stateside and orders will be shipping out from the Tiny Engines shop and Bandcamp this week, plus they’ll also be available at record stores and the merch table. They look astoundingly good:

today’s edition features a really delightful conversation with the musician Ciarra Fragale who just one month ago released a really fantastic album called Get What You Want - it’s curiously out of time, full of actual retro music synthesis technology yet simultaneously really sophisticated and contemporary. But honestly you could also not pay attention to any of that because the songs are also just really good, a bunch of toe tappers. I was really impressed when I got to run sound for Ciarra at Avalon a while ago and then I thoroughly enjoyed talking with her, now you get to enjoy her, too:

MBB: How’s it going?

CF: It’s going well! Just got back from tour yesterday so I’m feeling…the whirlwind of coming home. I’m just happy to be here.

MBB: How was it?

CF: It was really good! It felt really good to play this record live and play it live when it’s out. It’s a totally different feeling than playing songs when they’re not yet released. It’s like - I’m gonna play this song, and then you can actually go consume it later if you like it. Instead of teasing, you know, this isn’t released yet - but maybe someday…

MBB: We’re often in a position to have to use the show to promise something greater in the future. You know, bands often plug their next gig when they’re in the middle of the set they’re currently playing. And sometimes you get locked into the thing of working on music because you have to make the next record or you have to play the next show - there’s a…lack of purity of motivation there.

CF: Yeah, this record’s been out for one month and you don’t know how many kind, well-intentioned people have asked me [conspiratorially] “so, what’s next?” Girl! The album JUST came out! I’ve spent two years of my life on this! Give me a breather!

It’s capitalism, unfortunately. We’re thrust into the machine, the output is constant. I’m really trying not to feel that pressure.

MBB: I think, too, that people like to hitch to your treadmill of momentum. They wanna buy into the thing that’s on its way. And they wanna express belief in what you’re doing.

CF: That’s definitely the more optimistic way of looking at it, maybe I should be less cynical. And the mutual feedback loop of support is really special, it’s something I’m feeling especially hard now.

MBB: When you tour, it’s just an infinite series of opportunities for people to be generous towards you.

CF: That’s one of my favorite things about it, being at the mercy of other people’s generosity. And then you get to give it back to them with either the show or with hosting them in the future - when you come to my city, I will treat you like fucking royalty. It’s a really special way to be in community with people. It can transcend time and distance. The road family is strong.

MBB: What was the best demonstration of road family generosity on this run?

CF: Every place I went to I was playing at a place I’ve played before or reconnecting with old friends I’ve met through years and years of touring through. I had a really hectic, distressing week right before I left, and then I just kept being met with open arms everywhere I went. That is the best thing!

I got to stay with Eric Slick who produced the record and his wife Natalie Prass - name drop.

MBB: Oh yeah! She’s on the record, too, right?

CF: I still can’t even believe it…I’ve been such a fan of hers for such a long time.

But yeah, walking into their house after a long day of travel and I was just met with the feeling of: oh, I’m home now. I can feel instantly comfortable here, I can relax. I’m sure you can understand this, too - when you’re on tour, particularly a solo tour, you’re just “on” all the time. You’re doing all the driving, you’re your own tour manager, you’re loading everything in. And then there’s just the output of giving a show to people. You’re always going through something. And to be in a house of seasoned, touring musicians - they knew exactly what I needed. I experienced that multiple times! I was so taken care of by people I have admired for a long time - there’s nothing like that.

MBB: The money isn’t convincing you it’s a good idea. There’s no amount of money you can make on a door deal for most levels of touring that can tell you it’s a good way to spend your life. But the camaraderie and the friendship, it’s just like: okay, this is worth everything. This is it.

CF: Yeah, that’s what makes it happen! It reminds me that community is everywhere - more important now than ever.

MBB: Having buddies in other cities is a form of political resistance and organizing that feels helpful and critical.

CF: It strengthens the web. If the web is strong, there’s nothing it can’t go up against.

MBB: I did a small run of solo shows recently and I kept finding myself with a late afternoon lack of direction. Around 3 or 4pm I’d say to myself…well, I’ve taken care of all my needs and whims, how do I kill the rest of the time before load-in? But when you’re on tour with other people, the friction between you gives you something to orient yourself around.

CF: Totally, it grounds you! I feel you’re the same way - I love helping. I live to help. I want to help. When you’re touring with other people, you’re all taking care of each other in this very beautiful way in this family unit. When it’s just you, you’re like [looks around] who do I help! Who! Sometimes there’s no one to help…which is fine!

What they don’t tell you about being on tour is that there’s a lot of time to kill. What do you do? I’m interviewing you now, actually.

MBB: I’m really blessed that going to another place and walking around is pretty much bar none my favorite thing in the world to do. I can kill two to three hours in a small town no problem. If there’s a little coffeeshop, great, get me an espresso, but even if there’s nothing open and nothing to do I’m great just walking around. I can walk up and down the same block 100 times and still have a pretty good time. But that’s only if it’s nice out, if it’s raining I have no idea what to do with myself.

CF: Oh, well that’s when you go see a movie.

Yeah, very similar thing for me. I can just put headphones on. I went to Montreal last summer - not even for a show - I just felt the need to get out of my home. I had no intentions of doing anything, I just walked around the entire city and listened to music, killed an entire day. Doing that on tour - it gives you a more intimate perspective. Getting out and walking, thrifting on tour, that I’m addicted to, actually.

MBB: And you know there’s always that part of you that’s like: if you’re getting a sandwich at the deli, the person ringing you up is gonna hear about the show. They’re getting invited, it’s guerilla marketing.

CF: Oh totally. I’ll just start talking to anyone. I love to chat, really. And a couple times on this tour I walked into places and people have been like…oh, are you a musician? Are you playing that show tonight? Yeah, actually, I was about to invite you! And it’s just one of those things: what gave it away?

MBB: It’s that optimistic look in your eye as you take in every detail of the mediocre cafe that no one has ever paid any attention to.

CF: Yeah I come in all bright eyed and bushy tailed and people are just like who is this girl, she must not be from around here.

You know what was fun on this tour? I brought a folding bicycle with me. I’m a huge biker, I grew up doing it, and ever since I read David Byrne’s book I’ve had the long off dream of bringing a bike on tour, I’m gonna experience a city from a new perspective. And that dream materialized! I was so jazzed. I rode around Nashville, my partner flew out to Chicago and we rode bikes around the lake, it was a real game changer. It really helped with all the sitting. There’s something about getting on that little bike and wheeling around.

MBB: Yeah, I try to go for runs when I’m in new places. I’m usually the first one up and that 8am jog through a new neighborhood, watching people go to work, it’s important to me energetically to take in the character of the place before and after the gig. It gives everything context.

CF: Right, it grounds you. The experience of touring can be very easily overly romanticized, but watching other people go about their lives can be really grounding. Oh, I’m just living my life with all of these people and we’re all doing our thing. It snaps you back.

MBB: If you’re in the car on your phone too much, you’re kind of not anywhere. And, you know, day of the show I’m always doing all the Internet labor I can to make it good. You need that 90 minutes of administrative tasks taken care of. We’re out here allegedly playing music but, you know, if that’s only one half hour of your day, what are you actually doing?

CF: That’s the other thing they don’t tell you - the actual playing of music is a very small part of it. It’s so many other things.

MBB: Yeah it’s like any big construction project - prep and cleanup is 90% of the thing. Tarps, measuring, etc. Equivalent in music - you can’t just roll up to a place and expect something amazing to happen.

CF: I don’t want to put anyone on blast…

MBB: Blast ‘em! Blast ‘em!

CF: Well, I think a lot of musicians might have that impression. But we’re out here.

MBB: We’re out here helping!

CF: And we live for the prep.

MBB: I was also thinking about how in order to play shows you have to - at least to some degree - believe you’re the special one. But crucially you can’t believe that too much, and being a part of another place’s mundane reality is a way of reminding you of the limits of your specialness.

CF: I think about this a lot - there has to be a little bit of ego or main character energy to do this job. Even just the smallest little bit of it can protect you in a lot of ways.

MBB: I wanted to talk to you about cycling - do you feel a direct connection between riding and making music?

CF: Absolutely.

MBB: Speak on it!

CF: I started riding bicycles when I was very young, right around the same time I was getting introduced to music. They had very parallel impacts in my life. But it’s only recently that I’ve become aware of those parallels energetically. I use both cycling and making music as a way of meditating. I’ve never been one to have a sort of set mindfulness practice - I don’t do sit meditations - but when I’m out there riding or looping things for hours and building an arrangement, it has this motion, a circular motion. I can really get lost in that.

There’s a song on this record called “Memorial Day Bike Ride,” which is actually the oldest song on the album. It was one I’ve always played live and it became a fan favorite over the years, it feels really special. And it’s built off of a loop. I wanted it to feel like you were just…getting on a bike and riding.

There are things that happen in both of these activities where you can get on a rhythm for a really long time, you can get into a really beautiful flow state, and then when something comes in and shakes it up, it’s really exciting. Yeah, maybe it’s scary, but then you get to get back to the pattern, to the feeling of constancy.

Utility-wise and also in concept - I find a lot of parallels between these two things. They’re both inherently spiritual to me and it feels special to draw a line between the two.

MBB: I love the idea of a loop as a wheel, and tape loops physically went around and around, it’s a lovely image. Locomotion is just so essential - you propel yourself forward through space, and it gives you a sense of time and energy.

CF: And then those periods of feeling stuck - they stand out almost as much as the times of constant momentum.

MBB: Yeah, when I run the thing I’m looking for is exertion and catharsis which is extremely true for what I’m reaching for in music, different methods for reaching a similar end.

CF: It’s therapy, that’s the best term I can think of to describe both acts.

MBB: You mentioned earlier that you can get lost making music or riding your bike - I’m just curious why you think getting lost might be important?

CF: There was a phrase that came across my desk not too long ago. It was the subject of a Dharma talk that my partner attended: not knowing is most intimate. I just absolutely fucking love that, when I heard it, I was just like: that’s it. Getting lost in something is getting lost in the unknown. There’s a really intimate quality to just diving into whatever’s at hand. It’s important because there can be a lot of creativity in repetition, especially if you continually bring new energy to whatever you’re doing. That’s a very beautiful concept to me.

Another perspective of that: there’s something kind of effortless about “getting lost” in something, you can just go on autopilot a little bit. Maybe that’s called flow state. When you can feel certain ease in doing something, that’s just - so relaxing.

MBB: I often feel like IN the music - in the playing, the making, even the thinking - is where there are the fewest boundaries acting on me, mentally, emotionally, physically. With a guitar in my hand it can be properly unthinking.

CF: Yeah, I feel so similarly. My live show right now is just me - no band - so I’m doing four different things at once. And people keep asking me, how do you manage that? Are you just constantly thinking about what you have to do during the song? And honestly no, I’m somewhere else. The set’s well rehearsed and it feels so natural to do and it feels so beautiful to have that ease.

The last thing I want someone to think while watching me play is, “oh my god, is she gonna fuck up?”

My approach towards it is, you know: easeful. I want you to get lost in the performance.

You know the band Caroline? They do this incredible thing with repetition, almost looping. It’s hypnotic as a listener, and comforting, too. You just want to live in this world for as long as you can, and they’re giving it to you with this piece of music.

Getting lost in something - whether I’m making it or consuming it - is amazing.

MBB: Watching you play live was when I hopped on the Ciarra Fragale train. It was so impressive to me how hard you were bringing it as a solo performer. The record has a really fascinating blend - definitely some Laura Branigan 80s power pop vibes, but the production is extremely high quality and feels really contemporary. I felt that in the stage show as well, somehow you’re calling on both Laurie Anderson and 80s Bruce Springsteen. You’ve got this battle station around you, you’re playing the shit out the guitar, and you’re burning the torch while singing, many things at once.

It might be too big of a topic to cover in the few minutes we have left, but where do you position this album in time?

CF: It took many forms for me. I’m really fascinated by nostalgia as an industry - something that’s really apparent culturally. On top of that, I also want to think about future nostalgia which also feels very present. Obviously there are some really iconic, historic sounds on this record. And, just to be clear, every decision I made with this album was deeply intentional - the recording was done for an entire year, but I didn’t feel like I could put it out until I fully developed the visual world. We built it sonically, now we need to build it visually and digitally. There were no random decisions - I really set out to analyze future nostalgia.

The palette sonically is all this classic gear - an Oberheim synth, an actual Simmons drum machine, the actual hardware. This is an album for some real gear heads - if anyone out there wants to get granular, reach out. I am more than happy to talk about it!

But yeah - the sonic palette inherently instills a lot of nostalgia. But the songwriting is also very contemporary. The mission was: how are we letting these two ideas sit at the table with each other? When you blend the future and the past, what you get is the present. I envision someone in the year 2050 turning on a TV from 1994.

It was all about blending those two ideas, and embracing the dissonance.

MBB: Records are inherently out of time because you make them and then you have to market them - you can’t just immediately, meaningfully publish something as soon as you finish an album.

CF: Unless you’re Charli or something, but even then - it’s made to feel that way.

MBB: Before we log off, who do you think I should talk to next?

CF: Who? Who who who…I’m just gonna go with my first instinct. We all know Shana Falana - she’s a bud, she’s a homie, love her so much. I’m just so fucking excited that she’s revamping her live band and I would love to hear a conversation between the two of you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

But what about you? Do you also enjoy walking around a new place? When do you allow yourself to rely on other people’s generosity? Are you letting yourself play the show before you plug the next one?