Dylan Pyles "A Train Called Solitude" Album Inspirations
DYLAN PYLES “A TRAIN CALLED SOLITUDE” ALBUM INSPIRATIONS
We asked Dylan Pyles to put together a list of songs that inspired him throughout the writing process of his upcoming album, A Train Called Solitude that releases this Friday - 05.28.21 on limited edition cassette and all streaming platforms. Dylan added a few notes per each track below!
Gene Clark - “Strength of Strings” (No Other, 1974)
This whole record was huge for me in the first month of the pandemic. With so much uncertainty, I craved art that felt dislodged from time (shout out to the early Wim Wenders here, too). This song, in particular, has a mystical quality that I think set the tone for my entire approach to Train Called Solitude. The big story around this album when it came out was that it was unreasonably expensive--it cost $100,000 to make in the early ‘70s. My approach to recording my album was basically, “What would it sound like if Gene Clark had $0 to record these songs instead of $100,000?”
Terry Allen - “Amarillo Highway (for Dave Hickey)” (Lubbock (on Everything), 1979)
Terry crawls into the characters of his songs and inhabits them in a way that no other songwriter can. He’s been doing it for decades. It’s so convincing that, when I put this song on, I also feel like I’m as big a Texan as you are, though I’ve only spent six total days in the state and have never even tasted Pearl Beer. I want my songs to be just as convincing--to conjure a person and a place for the listener to fully inhabit for three minutes.
Bardo Pond - “Pick My Brain” (Lapsed, 1997)
This band has been a huge influence on my approach to the guitar for years now. They test the limits of patience, control, and cognition to sublime results. There are a couple guitar lines on Solitude that are born out of this song and other songs from their first three full lengths.
Kath Bloom & Loren Connors - “Look at Me” (Restless Faithful Desperate, 1984)
The records Kath and Loren did in the 80s have become sacred for me. In my house, after midnight is Kath time. Both her playing and writing are concise and urgent, but still so, so lovely. Someday I hope to be able to make my point using as few words and notes as she does, but I don’t think I’m quite as in touch with my heart.
Dan Pavlides - “Lily of the Valley” (Gambler, 1979)
Like most who know this song, I caught it for the first time on Numero Group’s Wayfaring Strangers compilation. From its time-honored botanic metaphorizing to its gloriously lazy instrumental arrangement, this song is just as much the definition of Cosmic American Music as anything Gram Parsons ever recorded.
Nina Simone - “Black Swan” (At Carnegie Hall, 1963)
The way Nina sings the line “Where is my lover now?” in this recording will ring in my head as I’m passing onto the next world, I’m sure of it. The first song I wrote for Solitude (“If I Lose the Feeling”) references this line directly, so in a way, this tune is kind of to blame for the whole album.
Richard & Linda Thompson - “Withered and Died” (I Want to See the Bright Lights Tonight, 1974)
The way these two twist and mangle simple, traditional folk patterns into brilliant new forms is a template for the way I arrange my own songs. When I’m trying to sequence parts or connect elements of a song for its final configuration, I ask myself what Richard and Linda would do. This song is simply desperate--that’s the point, there’s nothing else to it. A lot of the songs on Solitude are kind of that way too.
International Submarine Band - “Do You Know How It Feels to be Lonesome?” (Safe at Home, 1968)
Speaking of Gram Parsons. This song, and this particular recording, is simple as hell, and almost sounds like a sketch when you listen too close. But you’re not supposed to listen too close. You’re supposed to lean back and tip your hat down over your eyes and stare up into the darkness above your mind.
Perfume Genius - “Describe” (Set My Heart on Fire Immediately, 2020)
This incredible record came out right as I decided to start recording forSolitude. I became obsessed with the sound of the whole album. So dark and distant, yet somehow raw and vulnerable. I like to conceive my tunes at the border of all these things, too. This album, and this song, gave me a lot to think about when it came to capturing the sound of that borderline.
Grouper - “Clearing” (Ruins, 2014)
Grouper’s music is the secret weapon to my existence. That’s all.
Grateful Dead - “China Cat Sunflower” (Dick’s Picks Vol. 12 - 6/26-6/28/1974, 1974)
I’ll be real with you: I was listening to a lot of the Grateful Dead while recording this album. I think listening to them makes me better at playing guitar and also kind of a happier person. I’ve always been a fan, but 2020 was the year I really found out what I liked best. The guitar on “China Cat” has always been a favorite, and this version brilliantly walks us through twang, blues, and Django jazz moods, with plenty of killer work from Phil Lesh in the mix, too.
Neil Young & Crazy Horse - “Cortez the Killer” (Weld, 1991)
This version of Neil’s mammoth guitar jammer is exceedingly fried in a pure 1991 kind of way. There’s a song on Solitude that’s basically just this song, and I’ve got no problem admitting that. I’m not the first person who said, “I’m going to write my own Cortez the Killer,” and I won’t be the last, but I had a damn good time doing it, and have no regrets.
Vashti Bunyan - “I’d Like to Walk Around In Your Mind” (Just Another Diamond Day, 1970)
Vashti’s album is brilliant and classic for so many reasons, but this little demo that snuck onto the reissued edition absolutely crushes me. So honest and heartbreaking. Since I first heard it, it’s been a north star for any lo-fi recording adventures.
Tim Buckley - “I Woke Up” (Starsailor, 1970)
After years of ignorant neglect on my part, Buckley’s work finally landed on my radar in 2020. The three records comprising his “experimental” period (Blue Afternoon, Lorca, and Starsailor) taught me how to be dark and playful at the same time--an occult-like musical lesson.
Love - “Always See Your Face” (Four Sail, 1969)
One of my favorite tunes and a recording that I always reference when piecing together a song or album. Everything in this recording is so purposeful and just right--partially because of its undeniable fragility and honesty. This one gives me all kinds of hope, even in its sense of loss and grief, and I think that’s the thing I’m looking for in a song.
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