Jon Brion IGN Interview

ign, september 30th, 2004

Jon Brion Interview
Composer/musician discusses working on the score for I ♥ Huckabees.
by Spence D.

September 30, 2004 - When it comes to the world of film composition the name Jon Brion doesn't ring with the time honored familiarity of the likes of John Williams, Henry Mancini, Bernard Herrmann, Jerry Goldsmith or even newer composers such as Carter Burwell. This isn't because Brion is any less competent at the craft, but more because he is extremely careful about the films he chooses to be attached to. That is to say, he's not a full-time film composer, but rather a musician who dabbles in the trade when a project reaches out and grabs him.

In fact, within the spectrum of Hollywood film composers, Brion is something of an anomaly. He's a multi-instrumentalist who plays everything from the guitar to the harmonium, he's a producer who has worked on albums by the likes of Fiona Apple, Robyn Hitchcock, and The Eels, among others, and he's a live performer who has been holding down a Friday night headlining gig at the hip LA nightspot Largo for more than eight years now.

In terms of his cinematic work, to date, Brion has fully scored four films, two by Paul Thomas Anderson (Magnolia and Punch Drunk Love), one by Michel Gondry (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind), and most recently David O. Russell's philosophical satire I ♥ Huckabees. What sets his scores apart from the more "traditional" symphonic compositions that usually accompany films is that Brion plays a variety of off-kilter instruments—ranging from the mellotron to the optigan—that create a whimsical, fractured fairy tale vibe that runs the emotional gamut from bittersweetly hypnotic to nightmarishly ominous, all the while keeping it grounded in a warm, organic tonal quality. Suffice it to say, you won't hear another composer's crafting music for films that sounds anything like the soundscapes that Brion concocts.

Spence D., IGN Music's Editor-in-Chief, recently caught up with Brion between premiers and recording sessions, to discuss his unique approach to the world of film composition.
Spence D., Editor-in-Chief, IGN Music: One of the projects you been doing for quite some time now is performing on Friday nights at Largo in Los Angeles. I believe you've been doing that for going on eight years now. That's a long time.

Jon Brion: Yep.

IGN Music: And you haven't tired of doing that yet?

JB: No, because if I'm bored then it's my fault [laughs], you know.

IGN Music Cool. So, shifting a bit from your live gigs into your most recent project, which is the score for I ♥ Huckabees, how did you get hooked up with David O. Russell for that?

JB: It was pretty simple. As far as I'm concerned, any work you get is because people have heard other work you've done. And the only reason they hire you is they want to co-opt some of what you do 'cause they think it'll make what they do better. And I mean everything that I do—like doing sessions, doing a movie soundtrack, producing a record, writing a song with a person. The only reason people want to do it is because they've heard something else you've done, you know? That's the only way any of it actually happens.

IGN Music: Then to put it in a nutshell, David had heard some of the stuff you've done, liked it, and contacted you.

JB: Yeah.

IGN Music: Now when you go into a project like this, how much of a collaboration exists? I realize it can differ from project to project, but did David give you free reign or did he provide input, how did it pan out?

JB: Oh most of it [was a collaboration] really.

IGN Music: Is it safe to say that you were brought in early on the project?

JB: No, but whether I am or not really doesn't matter. The people I choose to work with, I work with because I'm already impressed with them, you know? The movies I take are movies that I'm interested in. I've made a point of not being, say what I refer to as a "careerist" about anything. If I only produced records I'd have to fill my calendar all year round with records I didn't care about. And it's the same with films. If I just took films to score all the time…

IGN Music:…you'd be continuously employed but probably not doing what you'd really enjoy doing, huh?

JB: Yeah. I wouldn't be particularly happy. But by waiting to work with Paul Anderson or Michel Gondry or Charlie Kaufman or David O. Russell, you know, that's a pleasure. Even the hard parts of the work are a pleasure because you feel like you're involved in something good. And it's very easy to collaborate with people who are talented 'cause even if it's tough, you're very happy to defer to them, you know? I can defer to any of these people going 'They've made so many creative things that have inspired me and I don't know what their process is to get there.' So if there's ever a moment that comes up where I think it should be one thing and they think it should be another, it's really easy to just go 'Well, you know, you've made all this other great stuff that I get enjoyment from, so I'll trust your spine, I'll trust you're instincts.' I actually think the soundtracks I do are more collaborative than the average film composer, 'cause the average film composer who works all the time is so tired of dealing with the politics of it that they all have their own home studios that they work in and they don't want people coming by. They want to work privately, send tapes, get comments on them, make the changes from the comments, and do the sessions and that's it. Whereas in general I'm sitting with the directors and we're watching the films together and I'm composing while we're sitting there. Which is another reason why I have to be very careful about what I pick. Because if I was working with somebody and I didn't actually like their movie that much and they were realizing the amount of options I could generate and they were taking them just for the sake of taking them and it wasn't making something more emotional or more interesting or cool or creative, I'd have such a horrible time. As it is, it's a lot of work, but it's rewarding.

IGN Music: You mentioned that you have no idea what these filmmaker's thought processes are to create the films they do. Similarly, they probably don't have a clue as to what your thought process is in crafting your music.

JB: No, it's completely mysterious! You know, at the Huckabees premier I met a guy whose been one of the main conspirators on The Simpsons since its inception. And he was sort of saying to me 'Oh, it's so intimidating what you do just musically.' And he was talking about musicians in general and sort of saying 'I always wanted to be a musician, but you guys just have these crazy brains to be able to do that.' And I was just trying to explain to him 'No, music is easy. It's got 12 characters. That's about half of what we deal with in the English language. The English language is a hundred times harder than music. And there's so many absolutely genius musicians who are incredibly stupid people that will back my theory up.' We went our separate ways at the party and I realized that I was finally able to relate it for him. So I said 'Hey, you know how you turn on the TV and you see these 5-year old kids who can play violin like a virtuoso? You might complain that they could be a little more seasoned or emotional, but they're doing it, right? How many 5-year old comedians have you seen that can knock it out of the park? None.' And he looked at me and said 'Wow, that's really reassuring.' And I said 'Man, I'm not being self-deprecating. It's just the truth.' Music looks very formidable to people outside of it and it looks like it's this realm of spooky genius. And it's not. It's this very, very simple language that is capable of creating very complex human response and abstract thought and emotion and in terms of architectural thought, it does really cool things. And I'm so enamored with it that I intend to do it until they put me in the ground. But in terms of the actual brainpower necessary to do it and do it well, somebody who has a good sense of what analogy is and can apply it to their playing, can make great stuff no matter what their technical ability is.

A Moment of Pop Ecstasy with Jon Brion

perfect sound forever, september 2004

Just like the Reeperbahn:
A moment of pop ecstasy with Jon Brion courtesy of Ian Hunter
by Brad Laidman

If you're anything like me, you probably sit and wonder where the happening people in the world are, while you're sitting at home watching that rerun of Gilligan's Island where the castaways put on their musical interpretation of Hamlet to get Ginger out of her "I'm no longer a movie star" funk. After all, somewhere out there, the next Kurt Cobain is pouring his heart and soul out to 40 people, who will never forget how lucky they were to be in the right place at the right time. Miles Davis dropped out of Julliard, because watching Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie jam all night seemed on the whole a much better use of his time. What I wouldn't give to be able to say that I'd seen John Lennon put a toilet seat around his neck and belt out a few tunes with his mates on the Reeperbahn during their raucous days in Hamburg. The closest I've ever come is seeing Jon Brion perform every Friday night at Largo (432 N. Fairfax, Los Angeles).

To get to Jon Brion, I had to first go through Aimee Mann. My first true love abandoned me in February of 1994. I would never say that I handled that ugly, despondent period well because I was a mess. In fact, the only remotely productive thing I did for most of that year was to pick up an amazing pop record called Whatever by Aimee Mann. I stumbled upon it almost accidentally, after seeing her video for "I Should Have Known" on MTV. It had to have been like a gift from God or something, because since then I've never seen that video played again anywhere. Whatever was just a revelation to me at the time. It's not just a perfect pop masterpiece, it could easily have been called "Angry Prayers From A Jilted Lover." I must have listened to that album like 500 times that year. Eventually, I even put together my own Tape of Depression filled with just the saddest songs of lost love I could find. Ray Charles singing "Crying Time," Otis Redding sounding like he was close to emotional death belting out "These Arms of Mine," Frank Sinatra almost breaking out in tears on "Wee Small Hours in the Morning." The tape was so pathetic and sad that upon hearing it, just about every one of my friends was immediately concerned for my mental health. There were at least five songs from "Whatever on that tape and they fit in perfectly. Eventually, I let go of the feelings for my girlfriend and instead fell deeply in love with Aimee Mann.

The first time I saw the name Largo was on Aimee's web site. The very idea that she played the same small club every Tuesday night just completely blew my mind. Around 1999 or so, the ugly combination of my losing millions of dollars of other people's money in the stock market and the Internet boom's perilous effect on rent prices made it unlikely that I could continue to afford life in San Francisco. Faced with nowhere else to go, I figured "Why not go to Los Angeles?" I had no real job prospects there, but I figured that I'd at least be able to see Aimee Mann in an intimate setting every week.

As it turned out, I soon discovered that Mann had become part of this small group of great artists that seemed to congregate around the club. She was married to Michael Penn. They both regularly contributed music to the films of Paul Thomas Anderson, the director of Boogie Nights and Magnolia, who I heard was dating Fiona Apple. Amazingly enough, I soon found out that the most talented guy of them all turned out to be the guy that held court there every Friday night, Whatever's producer, Jon Brion.

Brion is just simply the greatest pure musician I have ever seen. He plays both guitar and piano equally as well as someone who has spent their entire life devoted to just one instrument. He plays bass, drums, and just about every instrument ever used on a pop album in the 20th Century. I once saw him do an entire Wings medley on the ukulele. Brion is perhaps more in touch with the magical joy of the perfect pop song than anyone in Los Angeles since Brian Wilson disappeared into his living room sandbox, and he is well worth seeing just for his own wistful compositions, best represented on his barely released album Meaningless but the real fun comes when he starts asking for requests from his encyclopedic bear-trap knowledge of nearly every pop song put to wax since Thomas Edison first recorded "Mary Had A Little Lamb." I can't even imagine memorizing just the lyrics of the songs that he routinely tosses out off the top of his head, much less having the ability to play them on any instrument, in any style, at a moment's notice. On a typical night, you're sure to hear impassioned versions of perennial favorites like Ray Davies' "Waterloo Sunset," John Lennon's "Dear Prudence" or nearly anything from Wilson's Pet Sounds, but oftentimes, things get weird. Ever heard Nirvana's "Lithium" as a Count Basie jazz workout? AC/DC's "Back in Black" on the ukulele sung by a random somewhat drunk guy in the front row with a surprisingly decent voice? "Ziggy Stardust" as a multi-tracked Les Paul instrumental? The Beatle's "Birthday" as sung by Devo? "Cum On Feel the Noize," as played by Scott Joplin? Attempts to trip him up with something outside of his usual mid ‘60s comfort zone are more than likely to produce an unexpected surprise. A recent request for Prince's "Little Red Corvette" yielded an electrifying medley that also included "Controversy," "Kiss," "When Doves Cry," and "1999." Just don't request Styx' "Mr. Roboto," unless you really want to hear it, because Brion is almost never stumped and if you request it he will play it.

On one Friday, I jokingly called out for an Asia song just to see what he would do, and without pause, despite the incredulous groans from the crowd, he was well on his way into a masterful version of that 1982 classic "Heat of the Moment." On another odd occasion he even reveled in the fact that Britney Spears' "… Baby One More Time" and "Oops … I Did it Again" were both the exact same song.

Once, he even fulfilled a request that his opening act couldn't fulfill. Perhaps trying to match Brion, that night's comedian Mary Lynn Rajskub had asked the crowd for requests, only to spurn them when it became apparent that a really loud patron desperately wanted to hear some Sam Kinison. Having been brushed off by the comedian, this man decided to continue to mouth his desires for Kinison during Brion's set.

"You realize that that is going to get less and less funny as the night goes on," Brion calmly answered before launching into an improvised musical summary of Kinison's classic Ethiopia routine, which climaxed with a near perfect imitation of that famous Kinison wail as he screamed out a chorus of "Give that kid a F-ing sandwich!"

On this Friday night, I wasn't exactly sure that I was going to wake myself up and make it down there, but after about thirty minutes of the movie Castaway, I found myself throwing things at the TV and crying out "Dude, it's just a volleyball. Let it go." Disappointed with Helen Hunt's choice, I got myself dressed and decided to head out and see what the night at Largo held for me. Brion's shows are always sold out, but I've found that if I head over at around midnight enough people will have left to let me catch Brion's second set. Tonight wasn't one of those occasions. You see, it drives the regulars crazy that it gets out, but oftentimes during Brion's gigs celebrities happen. It seems like Brion knows nearly as many talented musicians and comedians as he does pop songs. Over the last couple of years I've seen Elliot Smith, E from the Eels, Rhett Miller, Badly Drawn Boy, Whiskey Town, Peter Buck from R.E.M., Heartbreaker Benmont Tench and even Jack Black, who reprised his High Fidelity version of Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get It On" punctuated with a mid-chorus detour into the Who's "Pinball Wizard." I've never seen Beck play there, but I did get to stand next to him and marvel at how utterly small and unremarkable he seemed in person. Occasionally, Fiona Apple can even be coaxed out of the back corner for her killer rendition of Julie London's "Cry Me a River." Unfortunately, when celebrities are on hand it's almost impossible to get in for Brion's second set. After all, who's going to leave when Tom Petty is in the audience?

Just about any night is a difficult night with Largo's doorman, but tonight is especially ugly. There is a sign on the door that says "We are sold out so please don't come through the door like you haven't seen this sign." Well, this didn't stop me. After all, I've regularly seen this guy turn people away with a stern "We're not letting anyone else in tonight," and then almost randomly decide to let a few lucky souls in three minutes later. Tonight seems very different. Usually I can get into the opening hallway, but tonight he meets me at the door and basically tells me, "We're packed, there is no way you're getting in tonight." Undeterred, I decided to hang out for a while outside the club and see if word leaks out as to why I can't get in.

After awhile, a Largo regular came out for a smoke, and informed me that Mott the Hoople's Ian Hunter and Crowded House's Neil Finn were inside. Ouch. Every time I get into Largo, I like to have a good request picked out. Coming up with a clever request and having it played is this wonderful validation from an artist of Brion's caliber. I usually try to come up with something striking to make my request stand out from the crowd. One of my better choices was Madness' "One Step Beyond," since after all the only words in the song happen to be a shout of "One Step Beyond." I've tried just yelling Otis, which has earned a couple chuckles from the master with little luck, but on this night I have my heart set on hearing the Split Enz classic "I Got You." It's been going through my head all week and I'd love to hear what Brion would do with it. Unfortunately, I now find myself unable to get in the door because Neil Finn, the man who wrote the song I want to request, is inside.

Faced with certain defeat I was about thirty seconds away from getting back into my car and giving up when who should happen to pop outside for a smoke but Ian Hunter himself. Ian Hunter, as it turns out, is a wonderful guy. I offered him a light and we chatted for a bit. "You know I'm from Cleveland and every Friday night the top radio station in the city plays the Easybeats' "Friday On My Mind," Bruce Springsteen's "Born to Run," and your "Cleveland Rocks;" Cleveland worships you! How in the world did you wind up writing a song about Cleveland?"

"There was this period where everyone from Johnny Carson on down was really making fun of Cleveland. Well, we always got a great reaction there and I figured that it needed someone to take its side, to take the piss out of everybody." What a perfect Rock and Roll answer. We then discussed the merits of the angelic Alan Freed vs. the satanic Dick Clark. Not only did he love Drew Carey's musical tribute to "Cleveland Rocks," he jokingly let on how pleased he was with the pile of money Carey was responsible for sending his way.

Hunter told me a great story about meeting some older folks in a Cleveland airport wearing Cleveland Rocks T-Shirts, who were not only surprised when he informed them that he had written the song, but were equally taken aback to find out that there was a song at all.

"Well, thanks for the fag," Hunter said. "Are you going back in?"

"No" I answered smiling "I can't get in and it's probably because you're here."

"Well do you want to follow me in like your with me?" he offered.

"What a great guy," I thought. I told him that I really appreciated the gesture but that I didn't want to further upset the doorman. Who knows, if I really irk the guy he may never let me in again. To my great delight, Ian said something to somebody because thirty seconds later, I finally was granted entrance into Mecca.

Amazing. Before I could even order a Rolling Rock I heard Jon say, "You know there is a guy here tonight by the name of Neil Finn, who I'd sure like to hear sing a couple of songs." Having been outed, Finn climbed upon the stage to join Brion for a wonderfully strident version of The Beatles "Tomorrow Never Knows," deranged seagulls and all perfectly simulated by Brion's Les Paul and the wonders of modern technology. Lennon would be cursing if he could see what no longer took thousands of Popsicle sticks and tape to produce.

Finn must be a huge Lennon fan too, because he followed that up with another, The White Album's "I'm So Tired," complete with an improvised third verse apologizing to Brion and the audience for his inability to remember the song's actual third verse. "Don't worry about it," Brion helpfully commented after the song ended. "There is no third verse."

By the time Finn was halfway through Goffin/King's "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow," I was in pop heaven, but things didn't end there, as Finn was followed by reticent and shy former John Mellencamp violinist Lisa Germano, actor John C. Reilly who did a credible Phil to Brion's Don on the Everly Brother's "Walk Right Back," and my new best friend Ian Hunter. The wool hat garbed owner of the club, Mark Flanagan, even popped up onstage and did a song.

"This has been a great night so let's try to find something special to end it with," Brion announced. Seizing upon the chance to garner some validation, I called out for something I knew Brion couldn't refuse. "Do some Les Paul."

After filling the audience in on the man who invented the solid body guitar and multi-tracking, John thrilled Hunter with a tape-loop-assisted, off the top off his head, four part, straight out of 1952 virtuoso instrumental rendition of his biggest hit "All the Young Dudes."

It's almost criminal how underappreciated this guy is. Meaningless, a pop masterpiece of pure heart, a sonic ear of intense restlessness, and songwriting chops to waste, which had to be repurchased by its creator after being deemed "too uncommercial," makes one wonder if the same guy who told Brian Epstein that guitar bands were a thing of the past is against all odds still in charge of the record industry. Meanwhile, Brion somehow seems above chasing the plaudits of the Rolling Stone cover, remaining the guy who somehow shyly pops up next to the latest thing in that bottom right hand corner of the Random notes section, the ace in the hole of every hip movie magnet in need of an atmospheric "I've never heard anything like that" score (Magnolia, Punch Drunk Love, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind), and every talented underdog in need of a sympathetic producer willing to save production costs by chipping in on 14 or so instruments and doling out the spare sounds that flow uninterrupted from his mind like morning snowfall in Siberia.

Someday, someone will compile the fantasy 15 CD Box Set that will tell the world about the quietest pop explosion ever launched. It will include the sounds of Aimee Mann, Rhett Miller, Badly Drawn Boy, Rufus Wainwright, Fiona Apple, Jellyfish, The Grays, The Eels, Elliot Smith, Evan Dando, Grant Lee Phillips, and whoever else was lucky enough to get a month of his time.

Meanwhile, keep an eye out for Apple's next album, which word has it might be his masterpiece whether it makes an MTV ripple or not. Either way, he'll step aside let someone else garner the plaudits and continue to make the latest pop sensations drop their jaws in awe as they covertly watch his tossed off brilliance every Friday night a hundred or so yards away from a delicatessen. Not unlike Pete Townshend and Eric Clapton wondering what they were going to do for a living after first seeing Jimmy Hendrix; not unlike Chet Baker as he apologized for outselling Miles Davis; they'll sigh, return to their luxury, and promise to do better like they'd just seen Mr. Smith Goes to Washington for the first time.

Sure, nothing is ever going to be The Beatles in Hamburg, but this is definitely the closest I'll ever come to it. Just don't tell anyone, because Largo holds about two hundred or so lucky souls and I'd hate to never make it past the doorman again. After all, Ian Hunter's not there every week.