Willis Earl Beal’s life is a page torn from the history of American myth. A singer shaped by the streets, Beal has made the transition from down-and-out to new hero of black music. From destitution to hope, via erratic ideas and some bizarre phone calls, his legend is kind of crazy. Back with a new album imbued with soul, blues and gospel, Beal has come on in leaps and bounds.
There is nothing miserable about the guy sitting opposite us: with a cigar in his mouth and a bottle of Jack Daniels to hand, Willis Earl Beal loves tempting fate. Born to a pious family in Chicago, he hated school as a boy and was rejected by the army. To pass the time, he started to plaster Al Capone’s town with little flyers inviting passers-by to ring him up, with a view to chatting, singing, drawing, chasing girls, and partying. Feeling a bit of a misfit, he then headed off in search of adventure to Albuquerque, New Mexico. Via dead-end jobs and various disappointments, he became a tramp, spending his nights under the stars and his days singing in the streets.
Willis Earl Beal: Mr. Nobody becomes Somebody
Worn down by failure and a break-up, he finally returned to Chicago, where he was phoned up by the XL Recordings label (Radiohead, The xx), who wanted him to record an album. Somewhat the worse for wear, Beal recorded Acousmatic Sorcery, which was released in 2012. After that first effort, he has now made the news again, with the sleeve design of his new album (Nobody Knows) tattooed on his arm. Child of gospel and last preacher of soul, Willis Earl Beal has now taken on the mantle of bluesman: negotiating with the devil, he seeks redemption, confesses his mistakes and regrets, and defies destiny. Willis Earl Beal is (almost) a man like the rest.
Did your little flyers change the course of your life?
Willis Earl Beal: One day, a magazine came across one of my flyers and had the odd idea of publishing it on the cover of an issue. People from all over America started ringing me. I even got a call from a guy called Mos Def. At the time, I didn’t know him. But I listened anyway to what he had to say: he said that my story inspired him and that he wanted to make a film about my life and to play my part in it... A few days later, I lost my mobile phone and the contact with Mos Def. Soon after, my girlfriend dumped me. I was too unreliable; I had broken her heart. In my life, I have too often abused people’s trust. Lots of people held out a helping hand, but I was like a ball in a pinball machine: I was launched and I didn’t know where I would land. I screwed up lots of stuff. But I finally fell on my feet. That’s how it is…
Going from being a down-and-out to being the new musical phenomenon – is that easy to handle?
Beal: Handle? I have spent all the money I made from my first album and the tours. I bought litres of alcohol and I spent loads of money in restaurants. I like eating well. So I’m waiting impatiently to be paid for the work I did on the new album. But everything is OK: I’m travelling and answering questions in a fine hotel in Brussels. Do I deserve all this attention? Of course not! So I have a sense of perspective. What is happening to me is both strange and fantastic.
Some people see you as an illustrator. But at the end of the day, you’re a musician…
Beal: It all started with drawing; then I became an actor. Singing – that was something that happened by accident. I started singing when I was a tramp. Because I didn’t have anything else to do. And, then, it allowed me to seduce girls who were passing by in the street. That’s how I met my girlfriend.
Did your little flyers change the course of your life?
Willis Earl Beal: One day, a magazine came across one of my flyers and had the odd idea of publishing it on the cover of an issue. People from all over America started ringing me. I even got a call from a guy called Mos Def. At the time, I didn’t know him. But I listened anyway to what he had to say: he said that my story inspired him and that he wanted to make a film about my life and to play my part in it... A few days later, I lost my mobile phone and the contact with Mos Def. Soon after, my girlfriend dumped me. I was too unreliable; I had broken her heart. In my life, I have too often abused people’s trust. Lots of people held out a helping hand, but I was like a ball in a pinball machine: I was launched and I didn’t know where I would land. I screwed up lots of stuff. But I finally fell on my feet. That’s how it is…
Going from being a down-and-out to being the new musical phenomenon – is that easy to handle?
Beal: Handle? I have spent all the money I made from my first album and the tours. I bought litres of alcohol and I spent loads of money in restaurants. I like eating well. So I’m waiting impatiently to be paid for the work I did on the new album. But everything is OK: I’m travelling and answering questions in a fine hotel in Brussels. Do I deserve all this attention? Of course not! So I have a sense of perspective. What is happening to me is both strange and fantastic.
Some people see you as an illustrator. But at the end of the day, you’re a musician…
Beal: It all started with drawing; then I became an actor. Singing – that was something that happened by accident. I started singing when I was a tramp. Because I didn’t have anything else to do. And, then, it allowed me to seduce girls who were passing by in the street. That’s how I met my girlfriend.
Is there an analogy between your drawings and music?
Beal: Of course. In my mind, the way of operating is identical. When I am drawing, I consult the images that pass through my head. I go about things the same way with music. I’m not very original. I’m a diluted version of the people I admire. People like Cat Power, Tom Waits, or Bob Dylan. I don’t give a damn about being original. What’s important is to be sincere.
Your album is entitled Nobody Knows. Who is the guy on the album sleeve? Is he “Mr. Nobody”?
Beal: If you look closely, I have a hole in the hollow of each arm. When I was homeless, I got into the habit of selling my blood: $25 an arm. It made sense. Except that you could only give blood once a week. So I had to survive on my 50 dollars a week. I had that tattoo done with that money. That drawing is my best friend. He was always with me. Even when he hadn’t yet been tattooed on my arm, he was there, in my head. You can see that little figure as smiling or, on the contrary, as dying. In my mind, he is dying. His teeth are clenched; he is suffering. His eyes are plus signs, not crosses: he sees things others don’t see. Because nobody knows what happens when you die. That’s where the title of the album comes from.
Beal: Of course. In my mind, the way of operating is identical. When I am drawing, I consult the images that pass through my head. I go about things the same way with music. I’m not very original. I’m a diluted version of the people I admire. People like Cat Power, Tom Waits, or Bob Dylan. I don’t give a damn about being original. What’s important is to be sincere.
Your album is entitled Nobody Knows. Who is the guy on the album sleeve? Is he “Mr. Nobody”?
Beal: If you look closely, I have a hole in the hollow of each arm. When I was homeless, I got into the habit of selling my blood: $25 an arm. It made sense. Except that you could only give blood once a week. So I had to survive on my 50 dollars a week. I had that tattoo done with that money. That drawing is my best friend. He was always with me. Even when he hadn’t yet been tattooed on my arm, he was there, in my head. You can see that little figure as smiling or, on the contrary, as dying. In my mind, he is dying. His teeth are clenched; he is suffering. His eyes are plus signs, not crosses: he sees things others don’t see. Because nobody knows what happens when you die. That’s where the title of the album comes from.
(© Ben Pobjoy)
Your first album was notable for its homemade approach. Now, the tracks are meticulously orchestrated, with a group. Why?
Beal: I didn’t want to be alone onstage any more. I wanted to go beyond the simple physical performance in concert. I wanted to give my songs a different energy. But for that, I needed to surround myself with real musicians. I arrive at the studio with my pieces and ideas for melodies. On that basis, we developed the songs as a group. I’m proud of this new album. It’s my baby. The first album wasn’t an album. People should never have heard that! It was just rough drafts. But when I signed for the label, they asked me to provide material. So I came up with things that were unfinished. I’ve always been very embarrassed about having brought them out.
On the new album there is a song (“Coming Through”) in a duet with Cat Power. How did that collaboration come about?
Beal: She rang me up at home. She had just seen one of my videos on the Internet and she contacted her own label, which is part of the same group as mine. They gave her my telephone number. I was watching the TV with my partner when the bell rang. “Hey, it’s Chan Marshall. You know, Cat Power?” My legs started to shake. When I was down and out in Albuquerque, I used to go and listen to her songs in a record shop. That was around the time of her Jukebox album. In the shop there was a poster with a picture of Cat Power. I loved having my picture taken beside it. It was my obsession. I learned to sing while listening to her songs. And now, she is singing with me. That story is totally weird.
WILLIS EARL BEAL • 8/10, 20.00, SOLD OUT!, Ancienne Belgique, boulevard Anspachlaan 110, Brussel/Bruxelles, 02-548.24.24, www.abconcerts.be
Your first album was notable for its homemade approach. Now, the tracks are meticulously orchestrated, with a group. Why?
Beal: I didn’t want to be alone onstage any more. I wanted to go beyond the simple physical performance in concert. I wanted to give my songs a different energy. But for that, I needed to surround myself with real musicians. I arrive at the studio with my pieces and ideas for melodies. On that basis, we developed the songs as a group. I’m proud of this new album. It’s my baby. The first album wasn’t an album. People should never have heard that! It was just rough drafts. But when I signed for the label, they asked me to provide material. So I came up with things that were unfinished. I’ve always been very embarrassed about having brought them out.
On the new album there is a song (“Coming Through”) in a duet with Cat Power. How did that collaboration come about?
Beal: She rang me up at home. She had just seen one of my videos on the Internet and she contacted her own label, which is part of the same group as mine. They gave her my telephone number. I was watching the TV with my partner when the bell rang. “Hey, it’s Chan Marshall. You know, Cat Power?” My legs started to shake. When I was down and out in Albuquerque, I used to go and listen to her songs in a record shop. That was around the time of her Jukebox album. In the shop there was a poster with a picture of Cat Power. I loved having my picture taken beside it. It was my obsession. I learned to sing while listening to her songs. And now, she is singing with me. That story is totally weird.
WILLIS EARL BEAL • 8/10, 20.00, SOLD OUT!, Ancienne Belgique, boulevard Anspachlaan 110, Brussel/Bruxelles, 02-548.24.24, www.abconcerts.be
Read more about: Muziek
Fijn dat je wil reageren. Wie reageert, gaat akkoord met onze huisregels. Hoe reageren via Disqus? Een woordje uitleg.