Les Nuits: the maths of Patrick Watson

(© Mathieu Parisien)

Patrick Watson believes in ecosystems: what is lost brings forth new life for something else. On his latest album, he attempts to look beyond the fatalism that currently holds us captive.

As I put my dictaphone away, Patrick Watson (36) encourages me to watch Transcendent Man, a 2009 documentary in which American futurist and author Ray Kurzweil explains his vision of the future, where people merge with machines and ultimately transcend death. Is this the same idea of the future that the Canadian sketches for us on his new album, Love Songs for Robots? As always, he surfs highly energetically through his brain to answer our questions on the sunny terrasse of Brussels’s Bar Bravo. Waiter, tea for two, please!

Good title.
Patrick Watson: Thanks. I hate writing about the period we live in, so I decided to fast forward fifteen years. It seems like nowadays everyone is waiting for a catalyst moment that unlocks the future. I started from the time after that.
The only thing I read at the moment is science journals. I find them relaxing. And I enjoy telling people about how far we’ve come and all the things that are possible now. I’ve just been reading about how they’ve managed to adapt the DNA of a mouse, as a result of which it stops whenever it sees a blue light. Isn’t that incredible? People always look at me strangely when I tell them this stuff. They are so unaware; they don’t realise how close we are now to artificial intelligence. Take maths: a lot of people think it is a cheap way to explain the universe. What if it was just the opposite: that maths is the blueprint of the universe?
Even things that we consider to be instincts and emotions like happiness and sadness are much more mechanical than we think.

How do cold, hard science and warm music relate to one another?
Watson: I don’t think science is cold. When I hear someone talking about quantum mechanics, my belly lights on fire. Discussing science is much more interesting than watching the news, for example, where people just jabber on about problems that should have been solved years ago. As an artist, I want to challenge people, push their buttons. But I think science challenges more morals than any song I’m going to write. Bob Dylan lived in a challenging social era, but these days every discussion with respect to music is a bit outdated.
Now, Love Songs for Robots did not turn out to be a sci-fi record, no matter how hard I tried. You cannot escape your environment. My life has been pretty rock ‘n’ roll for the past year and a half. I am a young father of two, and trying to combine that with life as a touring musician and writing songs can sometimes get a bit rocky. It is quite interesting to have little kids around, though. You automatically start to clean up your attic, and you end up redesigning your childhood, in a way.

Who is the animal in “Good Morning Mr. Wolf”? Your shaggy alter ego?
Watson: Haha, no. Do you know Jean Leloup? He is a Québécois singer-songwriter, a crazy fucking guy, intellectual but also punk at the same time. He lives in my street, so I look him in the face every morning. [Chuckles]
“Good Morning Mr. Wolf” is a song about combating cynicism, the pessimism that I feel everywhere now. People feel like they can’t win anymore, everybody seems to be waiting to get steamrollered; to let disaster strike and clean up the mess. But the disaster is actually taking place right now. We can’t wait any longer, we have to tackle our problems now.
On the other hand, I also believe in ecosystems, everything is a natural evolution. When a tree falls over in the woods, it feeds an entire system of animals and plants. If humanity kicks the bucket, well then so be it.

It’s clear that you have managed not to lose your positive attitude!
Watson: [Laughs] I guess. Music is a powerful tool, much more powerful than I am as a person. Being an artist implies a certain responsibility, you have to make something that empowers the listener, not something that pulls the rug out from under him. I have always tried to follow that path. And also, you don’t want to walk around with your head down all the time. Call it self-respect.

You again wrap your thoughts in grand, cinematic, almost orchestral music.
Watson: Do you think so? This is my least orchestral record so far. I got the impression that people thought I was repeating myself. That’s why we did things differently this time. Less grandiose. It is all very synthy. I really like Vangelis’s soundtrack to Blade Runner, one of the best electronic pieces ever. It is actually so warm that it barely feels like electronica. We started with electronica, but in the end we recorded everything live with real instruments. Electronic music can be brilliant, but it is surrounded by a high wall. I tried to knock it down, but I don’t know if I was successful.
Most electronic music is sequence-based, which is on a very strict click. Time itself is not strict. We have to adjust our clocks because gravity influences time. That makes electronic music that is connected to a grid a little bit unnatural. When you perform live with a drummer, you retain that warmth. Unless you are Amon Tobin, or one of those great hip-hop artists, they can do that too.

You seem to make music as a sort of escapism. And thus create little moments of eternity.
Watson: Absolutely, that’s pretty much the winning ticket. It’s a place where I love spending time. I consider “Turn into the Noise” as one of the best recordings we have ever made. When we had finished recording the end of that song, we were all flying. We could have taken a ton of mushrooms, and it wouldn’t have made a difference.
My musical education started in a church, where people made music to communicate with God. I like that thought, that you make music with a view to something higher. Making music is my way of taking drugs, it’s what makes me tick.

Les Nuits: Patrick Watson
17/5, 19.00, Koninklijk Circus/Cirque Royal, www.botanique.be