Washed Out

With his second album out next week, Ernest Greene talks about his relationship with the term "chillwave," the beauty of happy songs, and what makes him mad.
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Shae DeTar

Photo by Shae DeTar

Before “Feel It All Around” defined the visual and sonic aesthetic of chillwave (and was integrated into the theme song for the proudly self-aware hipster burlesque "Portlandia"), it was Ernest Greene’s Rebel Yell. Explaining the motivation that fueled his earliest recordings, the 30-year-old songwriter/producer behind Washed Out says, “It was very much a reaction against Southern music. I grew up in Macon, Georgia, where the Allman Brothers came from, and I was always the kid rebelling against [them].” Greene’s contrarianism is doubly surprising when conveyed in a low, hangover-aided Bibb County accent that bears absolutely no similarity to the yawning vocals he uses on his records. But while his drawl hasn’t dissipated, his earliest biases have. Speaking on his second album, Paracosm, he admits “it’s come full circle, because a lot of the sounds on this record have more of a rock vibe.”

Along with the integration of guitars and live drums, Paracosm's lead single "It All Feels Right" includes lyrics that wouldn't sound out of place at a barbecue, frat party, or even on an Allmans greatest hits CD: “Meet up with the old crowd/ Music’s playing so loud/ It all feels right." Greene seems content knowing that Paracosm will serve as “good time” music for people who rock Urban Outfitters, and it’s that way by design. And even if the album is twang-free, its humid, reverb-soaked production is taken straight from a sticky Dixie summer. When I reach Greene, he’s milling about in his house just outside of Athens, Georgia, figuring out how he’s going to endure a day that’s nearly cracked 90 before noon.

"I’ve struggled with depression, and music was
always a positive way to will myself out of it.

Pitchfork: What’s your reaction when people still call you a “chillwave artist”?

Ernest Greene: I really don’t think much about it, though I've seen a lot of people saying [“It All Feels Right”] is a reaction against chillwave. In some ways, I’m grateful for it, because it defined me apart from millions of other kids in their bedroom making electronic music.

Pitchfork: Why do you think there was such a backlash against it?

EG: On some levels, it’s simple music with straightforward pop arrangements, so it’s fairly easy to copy. There were a ton of imitators, or just people doing it better than me, a year or two afterwards. A backlash was inevitable. I’m sure the lo-fi quality might’ve rubbed people the wrong way, too. I feel like I don’t hear as much really lo-fi sounding stuff these days.

Pitchfork: Are there times where you feel like the kindness in your music is taken for weakness?

EG: I think so. There are definitely a lot of cynical people out there, especially when it comes to indie rock. A line talking about “the sun shining,” is always gonna rub some people the wrong way. To me, [“It All Feels Right”] is about simple moments when you have a very deep sense that something special is happening, and that it’s fleeting and beautiful, and that it might not happen again. These moments are just as profound and worthy of writing about as depression or death or whatever other weighty ideas; there’s value in writing happy songs.

Pitchfork: What experiences do you draw on to write a song like “Feel It All Around” or “It All Feels Right”?

EG: I just turned 30 and, in some ways, I think my golden years are past me. You can call it nostalgia, but things were just more fresh when I was younger and more naive. It’s not even the actual moment of what happened, but the realization in that moment that it's beautiful. I know I’m probably coming across like a hippie by saying that, but that’s what the record’s about. Love it or hate it. I see a lot of beautiful things around me in the world and I consciously chose to write about it, because I’ve struggled with depression before. You can choose to fixate on that, or you can will yourself out of it. For me, music was always a very positive way to will myself out of that situation. In your imagination you can perfect things in a way you can’t do in your everyday life.

Pitchfork: Your music has become this aural shorthand for being laid-back, but does anything make you angry?

EG: I’m a real hardcore perfectionist, and it’s developed much more strongly the more I’ve gotten into doing this full-time. I get really frustrated because right now, for instance, there’s a million fucking things floating around. We’re working on a couple of different music videos, we’re working on the tour. I get pretty mad at my manager and the record labels, and they can probably give you an entirely different version of the person you probably think I am.

Pitchfork: __Washed Out has gained a reputation as make-out music, do you consider yourself a particularly sensual person? __

EG: The songs are constructed around an initial feeling, so it’s never anything super-specific. The Within and Without artwork pushed me more in that direction. But then again, since I'm a little naive, it wasn’t this sensual kind of make-out music to me. It was simpler than that: just seeing each other eye-to-eye.

Pitchfork: Do you feel your music fills a void in indie music in that regard?

EG: In the last year and a half there’s been a ton of great, interesting R&B happening that has a sensual quality about it. That Frank Ocean record was one of my favorites. In indie rock, it seems like bolder, weightier ideas reign supreme.

Pitchfork: Do you think that Washed Out serves as a bridge between indie listeners and R&B?

EG: I see some similarities. There was actually a track I heard this morning that was a really interesting mix of R&B and early Michael Jackson  [Dornik’s “Something About You”], but it also had some synth tones that felt a little chillwave. I think electronic pop music in general is leading the way. I felt really lucky with the music I’ve been making; I’d been doing it for three or four years, and it just so happens that right around the time I started to put music out that this newer electronic music was starting to happen. The Drive soundtrack was pretty big, opening up people’s ears to electronic pop structure. And I hear a lot of the new R&B pulling some of those things out, for sure. It was just the right timing.

Pitchfork: The title Within and Without referenced The Great Gatsby and Paracosm is based on the concept of creating imaginary worlds a la C.S. Lewis and Tolkien. With that in mind, do you think the literary and intellectual aspect of Washed Out gets underplayed?

EG: I’ve never really put the lyrics out there very much, which was a pretty conscious decision on my part. Just talking about the “paracosm” thing specifically-- I think it was coined in the late 70s, so it’s a fairly new word, a new idea. And to me, it represented how I saw the record, as a soundtrack to this daydream.

Pitchfork: Does that factor in the decision to make your vocals clearer?

EG: I think so. In the past, I used mainly digital reverbs, and this new record is more analog, which is naturally not as heavy. I also feel more confident as a producer and as a songwriter. For the first time ever, when we were mixing, I was having [producer] Ben [Allen] turn the vocals up. Normally, I have to bring them way down.

Pitchfork: How much time do you spend writing lyrics?

EG: I’m without a doubt a producer first. The lyrics happen towards the tail-end of the process, mainly because they're more stream-of-consciousness. It’s very rare that I’m going to tell a really concrete story. I doubt I’ll ever step outside of myself and write about characters-- that’s not really my thing. Most of the time, the lyrics are pretty simple ideas.

__Pitchfork: Paracosm is based around ideas of daydreaming and escape from reality, yet here you are making music with your wife and living a peaceful life in Athens. What inspires your ideas of escape? __

EG: Being on tour for the last couple of years, I was constantly surrounded by people. For some, being involved in a scene is a great thing because the social element can drive creativity. For me, though, it’s never really been like that. It’s the opposite. I’ve always had this instinct to escape. And that played into ending up [in Athens]. We lived in Atlanta for a couple of years and had a lot of fun, but my best work happens when I isolate myself. It’s all about turning inward. A lot of the lyrics are talking about that, and being OK with that. Without a doubt, I’m living my ultimate fantasy. Making music is pretty much the only thing I can do.