Name: Connie Lovatt
Nationality: American
Occupation: Singer, songwriter, bassist
Current release: Connie Lovatt's debut solo album Coconut Mirror is out via Enchanté (US). It features collaborations with and contributions by fellow artists James McNew (Yo La Tengo), Jim White (Dirty Three), Rebecca Cole (Pavement / The Minders), Phoebe Gittins, Max Tepper (The Natural History), Che Chen (75 Dollar Bill), Lucy LaForge (Lucy & La Mer), Bill Callahan (Smog), James Baluyut (Versus, Plus/Minus), and Hartley Nandan (Connie's kid!).

[Read our Bill Callahan interview]
[Read our Jim White of Xylouris White interview]

If you enjoyed this Connie Lovatt interview and would like to stay up to date with her music, visit her bandcamp store.



Where does the impulse to create something come from for you? What role do often-quoted sources of inspiration like dreams, other forms of art, personal relationships, politics etc play?

I don’t know. I can claim two formative things that provided direction though:

The songs on the radio when I was little were roads leading to New York. I liked so many songs, top 40 stuff, and would picture the people making them. Later on, I had boyfriends in bands and I would sing a little thing or be encouraged to pick up the bass. And aside from fears of looking a fool, it felt good, never foreign.

The technical skills and the interpersonal skills needed to be in a band occupied the better part of my energies. I was playing catch-up. The creative part was the lighter, bubblier piece back then. It’s foremost now and I work much harder at it. Inspiration or intentions do happen but they can get heavy if you try to hold on to them too tightly.

It’s easier to hold on to the feeling the inspiration laid on you and to keep seeking that feeling out. The inspiration might be too specific to be a constant co-pilot. But it can be a place to return to when overwhelmed or uncertain.

For you to get started, do there need to be concrete ideas – or what some have called a 'visualisation' of the finished work? What does the balance between planning and chance look like for you?

I think every time you sit down to work you are following through on a plan to take chances.

I did have an end result in mind, of an album my daughter could have forever that held 10 or 11 stories that, if done well, would evolve in meaning for her as she grew up and grew old. And I wanted to show up for her, and any other listener, with my vocals. I never wanted to hear a playback and think the delivery was “good enough”. I decided to write all the songs a capella first, no instruments. That would fall under the “having a plan” category. But the rest was built as I went along.

Being a mom presented all sorts of interruptions, some lasting days and some lasting months. The work was picked up and put down so often I began to think I was a bit crazy. After 6 or 7 years of an on-again off-again relationship with the songs, my mindset changed somehow. My confidence grew. I believed that they were good songs and my worry about time and planning a way in which to wrap it up became unnecessary.

I knew I was going to finish one day and be happy.

Is there a preparation phase for your process? Do you require your tools to be laid out in a particular way, for example, do you need to do 'research' or create 'early versions'?

A clean or cleared space is nice. I like my back to the door. Light is important. Be it dark or bright, the quality of the light is important. It can’t be exhausting. We don’t always get what’s most comforting, so then it comes down to the body being comfortable and having just enough uninterrupted time to flesh out one or two ideas. It feels like everything is an early version until it’s done.

Another type of preparation is making sure you hold dear the continual lesson of patience. When you’re not thinking clearly there can be a temptation to call a song finished eight versions ago, but you thankfully didn’t give in and there’s that pay off.

There’s the flip side of that too. You’re certain a song is done, clink little champagne glasses in your mind, but then you hear something. A direction or opening you didn’t notice before makes you go “oooooohhh nooooo” and you gotta get back at it.

“Heart”, “Lines” and “Gull” were like that.



Do you have certain rituals to get you into the right mindset for creating? What role do certain foods or stimulants like coffee, lighting, scents, exercise or reading poetry play?

Aside from those realizations or ideas that must be jotted down immediately, I tend to need a fair amount of time alone doing anything but music. I relax and think in ever-tightening circles while reading or listing to music, walking or cleaning, and feel that I’m moving towards a center. A center where I’ll be sitting down and working.

It’s very, very hard for me to go from being around people to working on a song. I need to populate my mind with anything else but other people.

What do you start with? How difficult is that first line of text, the first note?

Just like running, the first step is easy.

It’s knowing how painful things will start to get about 10 minutes in that turns you into a devious procrastinator.

When do the lyrics enter the picture? Where do they come from? Do lyrics need to grow together with the music or can they emerge from a place of their own?

Oh the lyrics!!! Some words came out of thin air because they fit like a sonic puzzle piece. A few times those words stuck around but more often were replaced. But once the melody was set I could “see” what the song was about. They each slowly, slowly, slowly came into focus. Words and phrases followed and I worked on them as often as I could.

It is by far the most rewarding and most devastating part. Aside from vocal melody, lyrics are the most sensitive thing to work on. You can easily make a whole mess of it. The words play tricks on you. Just when you think you’re on top of the words, they reveal how thoughtless or dumb you are. You have to keep wrestling until you are saying what you want and the words aren’t getting in the way. Because they sure can.

If you have a trusted friend that can help point out problems that is most helpful.

What makes lyrics good in your opinion? What are your own ambitions and challenges in this regard?

When I hear good lyrics delivered in just the right way, I want to hear them again and again. No matter the type of song. Great is great.

Aren’t we all shooting for that? I will always want to keep trying.

To quote a question by the great Bruce Duffie: When you come up with a musical idea, have you created the idea or have you discovered the idea?

There’s no way this is correct always but it feels more like discoveries run the game. Because you experience a noticeable jolt with a discovery and the jolts are blessed lighthouses.

Some songs have two lighthouse, some have twelve. But you created the conditions for that discovery, sometimes casually and sometimes through great effort or momentum. Kind of like while I’m answering these questions I’m discovering things, but you and I created this scenario.

From your experience, are there things you're doing differently than most or many other artists when it comes to writing music?

I’m sure there are other musicians that are as slow as unhurried molasses so I must not be different that way - but I don’t know any personally.

Many writers have claimed that as soon as they enter into the process, certain aspects of the narrative are out of their hands. Do you like to keep strict control or is there a sense of following things where they lead you?

Keeping strict control seems a tricky thing to keep on the table but the narrative being “out of their hands” speaks more, I think, to how things can change as you get to know the narrative, its possibilities and its limits.

Because you are following new insights that can feel quite deep or consequential, I suppose it could be described as out of your control, but it’s still very much in the body of the attempt. It’s not like some ouija board effect takes over the brain. There’s a continuum.

There are many descriptions of the creative state. How would you describe it for you personally? Is there an element of spirituality to what you do?

It feels like being fully satisfied and existing in a thrilling place that is hard to leave and you can’t wait to return to. I envy those that have experienced it in greater volumes.

The most comparable feeling may be when you are reading something great and everything exists in that cocoon. You, your mind, the words, the characters, the details, and the intentions and skills of the author, you’re all just floating along together atop an invented yet completely natural stream and everything is perfectly locked in.

It’s a little like that but there’s more air, more light.

Once a piece is finished, how important is it for you to let it lie and evaluate it later on? How much improvement and refinement do you personally allow until you're satisfied with a piece? What does this process look like in practise?

Because the writing was stretched over years I learned there was great benefit to letting a song be for a while,  then hearing it with fresher ears and setting about adding to its strengths.

What's your take on the role and importance of production, including mixing and mastering for you personally? How involved do you get in this?

Coconut Mirror was my first time being in charge of both. I’ve always had the comfort of being in a band. This time around was different and I knew there would be a reeducation.

I worked with Joe Wohlmuth on the mix a lot. Mixing is something I mostly understand and love. I was tweaking things all the live long day. I also knew exactly how each song should make me feel. Once we were done it was sent in for mastering.

Then, disaster. My heart felt like a poisonous hissing toad. NOT because of the work done by Peerless Mastering. It was my work that was faulty. I was inexperienced when it came to harnessing the power within that step. Mastering altered things in ways that pulled into focus some real problems!

I made changes and sent them back to a possibly very bewildered Jeff and Maria. They were mastered again and sounded great.

After finishing a piece or album and releasing something into the world, there can be a sense of emptiness. Can you relate to this – and how do you return to the state of creativity after experiencing it?

There is that sense. But you know it pretty well after doing it a few times. I felt myself looking in the direction of writing new songs while in the mixing and mastering phase.

Once focus turned to the release, and now the afterglow, I’ve ceased being able to see the new songs. I have faith I will seek them out soon.

Creativity can reach many different corners of our lives. Do you personally feel as though writing a piece of music is inherently different from something like making a great cup of coffee? What do you express through music that you couldn't or wouldn't in more 'mundane' tasks?

I think what I’ve figured out relatively recently is it’s not entirely different - in comparison to other tasks that result in a thing. Like making coffee. It’s more that the existence within the resulting song, that required much from you to make real, is mesmerizing, it feels magical. Atmospheric. Total. Ensconced.

Maybe some folks feel that way about making coffee. Maybe that’s what all the fuss is about.