Exclusive Interview with Author Amanda Petrusich!

*photo by Bret Stetka

It seems that the whole world is busy these days. There's always something to do and it seems that everyone is on overdrive. Very few people are probably as busy as the acclaimed blogger-turned-author Amanda Petrusich, yet she seems to have a ridiculously heightened sense of appreciation for the small things in life. She is a senior staff writer for the venerable print music publication Paste Magazine, a contributor for the seminal Pitchfork Media, and even a frequent contributor for The Onion, NY Times, and a boat load of other important publications. She even did an installment for the 33 1/3 series on the phenomenal album Pink Moon by Nick Drake. She is a phenomenal writer who seems to not quite fit in with the jaded bashing that often is inherent in music critique. She seems to care much more for the personal details involved in the record than record itself. I don't blame her, and I'm glad she does.

Here, this immensely talented writer graciously agreed to let me ask her a few questions about her recent book It Still Moves. (By the way, it's incredibly intimidating to interview a professional interviewer, but I'm excited how it turned out.)


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GLIu: Obviously, you are a true fan of music and an incredible writer, at what point did you decide to join those two ideas?

Amanda: For as long as I can remember, I always thought being a music critic was the coolest job in the world, but to be honest, I never really considered it a viable profession – it seemed like something other people got to do. In college, I studied English Literature but focused most of my energy on creative writing, which was what I loved the most. Eventually, I realized that every story or essay I wrote would become, in a sense, about music – you know, if I was writing a scene in a café, it became about the Dylan song that was playing in the background.

GLIu: Where did you get the time to write a book amidst all of the freelance writing that you do?

Amanda: This was a challenge – writing a book requires a completely different kind of discipline than cranking out 100-word record reviews. There’s a certain amount of immersion involved – once you get deep enough into it, you either can’t or don’t want to think about anything else at all. You live and breathe the story, as clichéd as that sounds. I ended up taking a few months off from freelancing to travel and work on the book exclusively, but when I was doing both simultaneously, I had to compartmentalize – you know, do my weekly assignments on Mondays and Tuesdays, work on the book the rest of the week. One of the hardest things about writing full-time is being really diligent about scheduling.

GLIu: There seems to be a theme in your book about the importance of individual's experiences as a means of tracking trends in the American musical landscape. Is that something that you did consciously?

Amanda: I was relatively conflicted, at first, about whether or not I wanted to write this book in the first-person, but ultimately that’s what felt most comfortable to me, and that was kind of story I wanted to tell. There’s nothing objective about this music – from its creation to its dissemination to its interpretation, it’s all informed by individual experience, right? I also didn’t want the book to seem definitive – this is my understanding of this story, this is what I hear and love, and it’s going to be different for everyone.

GLIu: Your book reads much like a wonderful road trip. How long did it take you do all of the traveling?

Amanda: The book took 18 months to write. The longest consecutive amount of time I was on the road was about 4 weeks, and then I went back to certain places to fill in the blanks (the trip I take to Vermont, at the end of the book, was separate from the original southern itinerary). I was in Mississippi three times, Memphis twice.

GLIu: While reading your book, it also seemed that you felt the need to experience these places of interest and dig into the details like the exact content of the room of your nightly lodging and the food at local restaurants, etc. Do you think that its necessary to experience the things that somebody like Lead Belly or The Carter Family would have experienced in their surroundings to better understand how they came up with their music?

Amanda: Absolutely. For me, all that stuff is just as interesting as the kind of guitar someone played. Who says art isn’t affected by what the artist ate for breakfast? I think every aspect of someone’s environment ultimately seeps into the work that they do, in obvious or not so obvious ways. I think that music – that all art, really – is inextricably tied to place, and that relationship is incredibly compelling to me. I didn’t see any other way to talk about this music. And then, in terms of my own personal journey, I wanted the reader to know those details, too – and how they might be coloring my impression of that particular place.

GLIu: How do you think your particular surroundings of Brooklyn influence your art?

Amanda: I have a love/hate relationship with New York City, which I think is fairly common amongst people who live here – there are non-city things I covet (having a garden, having a front porch, having a dog), but I also love being privy to such a staggering display of cultural/social/economic diversity (and being able to walk everywhere). Working on the book, coming from Brooklyn, it was especially interesting because Brooklyn is also where a lot of old Americana music is currently being synthesized and reinvented – readapted to this new, strange, urban place.

GLIu: Your book mentions several current artists who are carrying the American music flag like Sam Beam, Calexico, and Louisville's very own Will Oldham as folks who are marrying their own aesthetic ideals with the grit and texture of their folks-y forefathers/mothers. Are there any other bands that you think do this as well, or any current bands or other artists who excite you?

Amanda: Sure, tons: I really love the new Fleet Foxes LP. I also like Bowerbirds, from North Carolina, and Horse Feathers, from Portland, Oregon. And in Brooklyn, I’ve been really into a local band called Hymns. Oh, and Those Darlins’, from Murfreesboro, Tennessee, have a kind of Freakwater country-punk thing. I think they’re working on a debut LP.

GLIu: You have been known to write insightful pieces for quality publications like Paste and 33 1/3 and groundbreaking internet spots like Pitchfork and The Onion, what made you want to go the route of book-writing?

Amanda: I have an MFA in nonfiction writing, and I’ve always been really interested in long-form literary nonfiction (In Cold Blood is my favorite book). Especially now, with print media existing in a state of semi-panic, there’s not a lot of space for long, time-intensive pieces, which, as a writer, I’ve always found the most exciting – just having the time and space to really commit to a subject or story.

GLIu: How is it having to deal with a publishing company as opposed to publications for which you freelance?

Amanda: It’s a totally different experience. I was lucky to find such a loving home at Faber and Faber, and they were remarkably hands-off through the entire process – it felt, to me, like they were investing in me as a writer (oh man, that sounds so pretentious!), and less so in my book. They trusted my instincts and kind of just let me go, which I’m so incredibly thankful for -- they let me write the book I wanted to write. With magazines, there’s often a bit more of an agenda involved, and I don’t necessarily mean that as a criticism, it’s just a different business – a magazine might have a house style, or more space/length constraints, or different reader expectations, or whatever.

GLIu: How does one get the nerve to be a freelance writer full-time in the big city (or any city)?

Amanda: It certainly takes a bit of hubris, doesn’t it? I was terrified to quit my job and start doing this full-time, and even now, five years later, it can still be terrifying. There’s no financial security whatsoever, and freelancing is a bit of a hustle – you’re constantly pitching stories, corresponding with publicists, coming up with new ideas, listening to records, reading magazines and newspapers, and trying to figure out your role within all that noise. But it’s also the greatest job in the world, on a good day – you’ve got a lot of freedom, and you get to spend all your time doing something you love in the service of something else you love.

and, lastly

GLIu: Being a musician who has released a record that I worked on for a year, I have always felt that having a big project like that must be similar to having and carrying a baby. When you finally release it there is this huge relief and yet a sense of apprehension because now you have to take care of it and help it grow! Maybe it was just me, but can you relate to that at all?

Amanda: Dude, YES. I actually think the month the book came out was the most difficult of my career. I felt completely exposed and shy and crazy and paranoid – you spend eighteen months holed up in your apartment, alone with this fragile little thing, and then all of a sudden it’s out there in the world and PEOPLE ARE READING IT. I kind of wanted to die. I think some writers or musicians feel enormously validated and gratified and excited, but I was just paralyzed with fear. And you also feel so incredibly lucky and fortunate that it’s happening at all, and I think that whenever you’re feeling particularly lucky, you also feel a little bit guilty – you know, what did I do to deserve this?

GLIu: I couldn't think of anyone better.