“Usually I’ll just walk around and type ideas and words that I’ve got from books or wherever on my iPhone. I guess it’s like making a puzzle or sticking things together. It never starts as a finished thing. You just have to keep polishing it up.”
Whilst underplayed, this description of his writing process helps direct attention towards the unobtrusive brilliance of Vance Joy. Admittedly only 5 released tracks into his career, each one is a tidy assimilation of what makes a good acoustically driven record. The puzzle is made up of small gems of passing interest, like girls who wear socks to bed, scenic snapshots of genres, and cowboys who quit their jobs and head to New York City. If done poorly such moments of wonder translate as self indulgent and lacking cohesion. If done well as in the case of lead single ‘Riptide’ and unabashed love song ‘Emmylou’, an enchanting yet slightly incomprehensible narrative is formed.
The polishing on the other hand refers to the neat, chorus heavy end product and the overall effect of bringing ukulele, high tempo drums and a layered, wailing singing voice together. At points Vance Joy, a solo artist behind the writing desk and on stage until recently, emerges more as an outfit in the vein of Australian contemporaries and shoe-gazing champions Tame Impala. Although yet to release the heavily anticipated debut album, Joy is currently midway through his second tour of the UK.
“My first time was a solo tour but this is my first time with a band. It’s good. On your own if you don’t have a good book or some TV shows to watch it can be a boring but when you’ve got a bit of company things are livened up. Every time I come to Britain I appreciate London a bit more. I mean the tube is so effective. We’ve got the shittest train system in Melbourne so the idea of just jumping on and off is incredible.”
The thing that first jumps out when talking to Joy is his sense of humour. Whilst the British like to think themselves champions of the deadpan and offbeat, the title is fiercely contested by Australia. Although sincere in his answers and generally quite nice in between, a touch of off-beat cynicism sneaks in. On the topic of the atmosphere on tour this is apparent. “Sometimes touring does feel like work. The interviews, the talking to the managers, the promo. That bit feels like a job. But when you get to the venue and you’re hanging out with the guys, eating some crisps and sitting in some fucking cool university building it’s pretty great. I feel the more remote you are the less it feels like work. In the big cities you have to do all the meetings and meet up with the team. But if you’re in the middle of fucking no where there’s no one to bother you. I went to this really cool place called Boise in Idaho that’s nestled in the mountains. Had a nice stay there. Managed to get to the zoo.”
The second thing that jumps out is his foul mouth; a foul mouth Joy fully embraces. “I think swearwords are a perfectly good way to express yourself so if one fitted into a song I would use it. I wouldn’t use it as a shortcut though. I tried before and it is hard to make it sound not lazy and genuine. I’ve found it can be good to break down a wall between you and an audience. Australians definitely swear a lot. There’s some kind of cultural thing going on there. But then again every culture has a way of swearing and making it sound good. It’s a great thing.”
Despite the cultural relativity of swearing, a genre that is championed by the “incredibly versatile” fuck, Joy’s live shows seem to translate well with tours in Europe and America coming soon. “I like the idea of people getting my music without understanding the lyrics. People pay money to come so I guess on some level they get it. If they came just for the tunes that’d be a buzz.”
Having evolved a solo sound into a full outfit in much the same way as Villagers’ Connor O’Brien, lyric free appreciation of Vance Joy’s songs is not beyond imagination. Regardless, it’s his way with words and quiet habit of turning a phrase that first draws you in. This is most apparent in ‘Riptide’, a song that races you through emotionally heavy metaphors quicker than you can fully gather the meaning behind a magician’s assistant in a dream. The film adaptation of these 3 minutes of far out wonder is, against the odds of putting a face to a jumbled up name, pitch perfect. “The guy who made the video for ‘Riptide’ sent me a one sentence pitch. He said he wanted to make a literal film clip based on the lyrics of the song. There’s no narrative that connects them all and I wanted the film to reflect that.”
Whether or not it does is down to your interpretation of the song and where you stand with regards to something that resembles a visual interpretation of Sesame Street shot in Cine-film. What’s not down to opinion is how thought through the video is and how at odds such attention is in comparison to Noel Gallagher and his recent directors commentary of Oasis’ video singles; commentary that included the line “I soon grew out of the video thing. Realised it was a load of bollocks.”
“I heard about that. I dunno. I think it’s an explosive thing to say. As if anything artistic is a waste of time. If you are unfortunate enough to have a shit film-clip then you might have that opinion. I’ve been lucky that I’ve had good experiences. Low key, low budget but squeezed every little bit out of it. On that scale it’s amazing and really rewarding. But if it’s a big film clip and you rock up and they tell you to give them more energy in your eyes or hold a fucking dove whilst you’re singing, I would despise the whole experience.”
Nearing the end of our time together and with defenses lowered by his charm, I ask a personal question. In October I underwent a messy breakup; a break-up which resulted in broken hearts, large cross channel phone bills and curiously, a recording of ‘Riptide’, fresh from the mouth of my bitch ex-girlfriend. What does such an out of place gesture mean?
“Fuck. I honestly don’t know. The thing is different people attach their own meanings to songs. I heard a thing the other day. Someone said that a good melody is a narrative and a story without the words. A melody is putting you in a place imaginatively and a different place overtime. That said, I’ve no idea what your friend was doing there.”