Neko Case Gets Better With Age

Pitchfork: Between your vocal harmonies and the orchestral strings, Neon Grey Midnight Green comes across like a radiant burst of wonder, weightless relief, and trust in time healing all wounds. Were you in that state of mind while writing the album, or was this an exercise in drawing those feelings out of yourself at a time where dread and fear are pervasive?

Neko Case: I absolutely refused to be overtaken by despair. I wanted to remind people of their own power, that they still matter, and that resisting this weird, mechanized, grinding machine our world is turning into is important. These songs aren’t about that on the nose because I like leaving them open-ended for listeners to fit themselves into the picture. So, if it brings them joy or replants them on their feet or makes them feel less alone, that’s the hope: to help people feel a connection.

I also wanted to celebrate specific musicians, because music helps further that connection, and they helped me with my own. That’s our greatest power as humans: our psychic connection to each other. Not the woo-woo concept, but instinct. It’s worth practicing our animal connection with other people, what our gut tells us to do, and what you’re fighting for in this world. It will make you feel simultaneously smaller and more powerful than before. I want to remind people of the trillion possibilities before them on a road that falsely feels like it’s the only one.

Which musicians were you reflecting on while writing this album? Did you want to immortalize their memories through song?

It’s both musicians who passed and those who are still living. During the course of making this record, people started passing away very unexpectedly. Like Donny Gerrard, who is an incredible vocalist in Mavis Staples’ band and in the band Skylark. One of my first memories is hearing “Wildflower,” where his particular voice is incredible. I didn’t know him well, but we’ve met each other over the years and worked together. He was quietly singing on things like Elton John albums that we all worship because that’s the caliber of musician he was. I was surprised his death hit me so hard because we weren’t close, but his kindness and presence throughout my whole life via music felt huge. Then my dear friend Dallas Good passed away suddenly, not long after Donny, and he was like family to me. I didn’t know what to say about it, which I guess is why you have to make music.

While grief is heavy and harrowing, it can also jumpstart feelings of love and pull these sweet memories from the crevasses of our brain that we forgot. You experience this duality where the loved one is physically gone, but it simultaneously feels like they’re brought back to life by being close to the forefront of your thoughts.

Yes, absolutely. Grief gives you incredible gifts if you’re willing to look it in the eyes, accept it, and feel it. Some things are private and you wanna keep it to yourself, but you don’t wanna shortchange what the person meant to you either. This is the first interview I’ve done where I’ve had to try to do this, so I apologize if I’m not making sense.

No, and please don’t feel pressured to share anything that you don’t want to be public.

My friend Kim Shattuck, from the Muffs, passed away from [amyotrophic lateral sclerosis], which was horrible. She was a huge influence on me and a beacon to look up to, as a friend, tourmate, and role model. My friend Dexter Romweber died, who was a very kind, loving, and chaotic person with a ton going on and who ended up shaping me. Dexter was in my favorite band [in Flat Duo Jets and Dex Romweber Duo] for as long as I can remember. Then Peter Moore, who mastered all my albums, died from cancer, and he was such a good friend and a kind mentor for many things. I still don’t fully understand mastering, but he made it understandable for me [laughs].