A heart-to-heart with Heartless Bastards

(Credit: Felicia Graham)

It’s been a bumpy thrill ride ever since Erika Wennerstrom met Mike Lamping and formed Heartless Bastards in Dayton, Ohio in 2003. The Bastards dropped two critically acclaimed exercises in no-frills rock called “Stairs and Elevators” and “All This Time,” but things fell apart when Wennerstrom’s relationship with Lamping cratered and threw the band’s future into question. She soon found herself on the road to Texas, where she eventually settled with friends and family to clear her mind and start again.

The result? Probably the best work she’s ever done.

That personal turmoil has endowed Wennerstrom’s latest effort, “The Mountain,” with the kind of gravitas and raw emotion found in the finest work of like-minded souls like Neil Young and PJ Harvey. But she’s also looking outward as well, lamenting the loss of American jobs as much as her own love. And allthough she remains self-conscious about articulating her dissatisfaction with current events, she has become well-known for the catharsis her music inspires. Like her kindred Dayton spirit Kim Deal, Wennerstrom excels at complicating simplicity, a skill that should secure “The Mountain” a space atop 2009’s best efforts.

This release has that breakthrough feel to it.
It’s the first time I’ve worked with a producer and different musicians. But I was in a different point in my life when I made it, and I think it’s more mature than my past work. I wanted to try some different things; I thought it would be cool to incorporate bluegrass instrumentation. I don’t consider myself an innovator, but it’s definitely new territory for me.

It has a restless spirit. Did that come from the breakup and the move?
I’ve always had a restless spirit. The last album was more about traveling to new environments and adjusting to life on tour. But the move to Austin was a whole new experience. New friends, a new producer, I hadn’t found a band yet. The chances that I took were scary for me. I split from a 10-year relationship—but “The Mountain” is not a breakup album, so to speak, but more about being comfortable with myself in a new place and figuring out who I am.

Why did you move?
A lot of reasons. Mike and I had all the same friends. I also bartended in Cincinnati, so I knew my community well, and it was hard to go out and have people constantly ask about us and the band. It was hard enough going through the breakup, but having to explain myself to distant acquaintances and strangers made it harder.

Sounds like you made lemonade out of lemons.
Ultimately, you have to do what is best for yourself. If you don’t, it’s ultimately not good for you or the people around you. Life is sometimes how you choose to see the things that happen to you. If something negative happens, you can dwell on it or figure out how to get past it. But the album is about more than that. I would never choose to exploit my relationships.

What else is it about?
The title track is about the shrinking middle class. I just feel like the gap between the rich and poor is getting wider, and it’s been happening for a long time. And whenever I hear a report on new jobs being created, they’re always in Wal-Marts or Starbucks. It’s bothered me for a long time. But I was self-conscious about writing a political song. I don’t think I’m the most articulate person, and it’s such a big subject. I wasn’t sure whether I could explain myself.

I think it's right there in the title: poverty is a huge mountain to climb.
Right. “The Mountain” represents an insurmountable problem, which is adapting to a global economy. But it also represents corporate greed; those who continue to climb, climb, climb and push everyone else off. I’m no economist, but sometimes it seems to me that if a company has a bad year they make up for it by laying everyone off, instead of waiting it out and taking a hit. I don’t have a college education, but some of this stuff seems so fucked up.

Were you inspired by hometown heroes like Kim Deal?
She was a big influence, and so was the Pixies. A friend gave me “Doolittle” when I was a freshman and I loved it right away. Then the Breeders’ “Last Splash” came out, so I was excited for our hometown. Later, I was in a band called Shesus, and our guitar player was in the Breeders for awhile, so we got to open for them.

Did you get a chance to talk to her?
No, I’m always shy about approaching people that I admire. I did meet her, but I could only get about three words out: “Hi!” and “Thank you!” I think I’d probably say more now.

I think you two would get along. You both share ironic band names.
That’s my sense of humor at work, for sure. Once in Dayton, someone in a car drove by and screamed, “You heartless bastards!” I thought it was hilarious. We have always been nice people, so I appreciate the irony. Or is that sarcasm?