He’s a quintessential courtly southern gentleman. Softly spoken, thoughtful and engaging, he takes his interviews as he does his music, with a generous helping of wit, wisdom and the desire to have a conversation rather than deliver a monologue.
Lyle Lovett returns to Ireland this month for performances in Dublin and Belfast with what he calls his Acoustic Group, a humdinger ensemble anchored by the renowned bassist Leland Sklar and guitarist Jeff White. It more than five years since he last came to town; he’ll be performing a brace of new songs from his most recent album, 12th of June, which he named for the birthday of his seven-year-old twins.
Much has changed in Lovett’s world in recent years, but he still writes from the heart, his songs circling around the fundamentals of human nature. Does crafting a song get easier or harder – or possibly even stranger – as the years go by?
“I’ve always felt that thinking in a void is a futile way for me to approach songwriting,” he says from his home in Klein, in east Texas, a homestead built by his great-great-grandfather in the 1850s. “I’ve always had to have an idea to write to, and those ideas come more from feelings for me, rather than thinking that I should write about something in particular. I have a much easier time finishing songs that are motivated by some sort of emotional state. I find that the good songs seem to come easily and the ideas that I try to make work are always more difficult.”
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One of the biggest challenges is making a song powerful enough to resonate with the listener, according to Lovett. “Writing something that demands somebody’s attention is always a tall order,” he says. “Ultimately, I think that any writer writes for himself, and I think the saving grace in all that is that we humans are alike enough that we can see ourselves in each other.”
As a writer, Lovett prefers to drop crumbs rather than pave paths, so that people can make their own of his songs. Has he ever been surprised by what they take from his music?
“I’m always interested in someone else’s interpretation,” he says. “The kinds of songs that I enjoy listening to allow for the listener’s imagination to fill in the blanks, and those are the kinds of songs I like. You know, there’s nothing more powerful than one’s imagination. Still, the nicest compliments I get aren’t so much about a choice of word, or a line in a verse, but it’s when people say to me, ‘I remember exactly what I was doing the first time I heard that song.’ That means so much to me, because the listener is connecting my work to his or her own life, and that’s the most you can hope to accomplish, I think, when you write a song.”
During the pandemic Lovett performed 20 live-streamed concerts with Elvis Costello, Robert Earl Keen, Chris Isaak, Shawn Colvin, Michael McDonald and others. It was balm for his fans and, for the singer, an unexpected bonus in terms of the insights he gained about his fellow artists’ approach to their work.
“Creatively, it really helped focus me, and just getting to interact with some of my songwriting heroes was a real boost for me and one that I enjoyed immensely. To get to peek in the windows of someone else’s process was informing as well. Chris Isaak was very organised. He would call me and run through his set list, and then he would email me and tell me what he was planning on wearing. So organised. To see the contrast in styles, and how everyone was effective in their own way was enlightening to me.”
Lovett’s sound has never been easily corralled. Although many see him as a country artist, he and his legendary Large Band effortlessly meld jazz, blues, swing and folk with the wry, dry wit that infuses his country songs. His 12th of June album kicks off with Horace Silver’s Cookin’ at the Continental and includes a smoking cover of The Andrews Sisters’ Straighten up and Fly Right, as well as a delicious take on Dave Frishberg’s classic Peel Me a Grape, a song Lovett recorded once for a commercial with Blossom Dearie. This man gets around.
The primary colour in his life these days is his relatively newfound role as a father, which began at the age of 59. He relishes every minute.
“When I’m not on the road,” he says, “I’m truly able to enjoy my life to its fullest. At this point in my life I shouldn’t say that I lack ambition, because I’m grateful for my job and for the people who support me, but in terms of imagining any greater success than I’ve had, I don’t aspire to that.
“I’m just really happy getting to play music with some of the most talented musicians in the world and listening to what they bring to my songs and playing to wonderful audiences. That’s enough for me. I’m thrilled to be doing what I’m doing right now. At my age I’m outside the mainstream of commercial music and quite happy to be there.”
The title track of 12th of June speaks of fatherhood in a reflective way, with its references to how children “make a better man of me”.
“It’s really been the greatest experience of my life,” Lovett says with one of his endearingly crooked smiles. “Of all the things that I’ve enjoyed, I’ve never enjoyed anything more than being my children’s dad.
“Still, every day it’s a surprise and delight. I’m home more than I’m gone, but being gone at all is really difficult. I spend every second that I can with them. It’s just joyful for me every day to be involved in their lives and to see what interests them. I’m sure I’m learning more from them than they are from me.”
Lovett’s deadpan humour permeates the album. Pants Is Overrated is one you can readily imagine him riffing with his children, with its playful lyrics, even if beneath the surface lies a fable about nonconformism. Does he find that his humour travels well?
“Gosh, I don’t know!” he says with a chuckle. “In my experience Irish audiences have a keen sense of humour and appreciate a humorous take on otherwise serious subject matter. I think humour is a great way to survive, but my sense of humour comes from my family and how the people I grew up around spoke to one another.
“Around my grandmother’s table were always about a half-dozen people, and I can remember, when I was a little boy, being teased endlessly by my older cousins and my uncles. It was a kind of a test of your awareness, to see if you could catch the joke.
“In terms of what I say on stage, I think it’s more important to make a joke than to make sure the audience catches the joke. The joke’s really only for the people who do catch it. You just hope that the ones who don’t catch it don’t hold it against you!”
Lovett, who’ll be in London after his Irish shows to receive the international trailblazer prize at the UK Americana Awards, is keen to renew old acquaintances while he’s here.
“I’ve had so many wonderful experiences in Dublin,” he says. “I remember playing in the Stadium, the Gaiety and the Point Depot, where I played with John Prine for his television special in 1989. It was around Thanksgiving, and the air was thick with peat fog. The atmosphere was something else, and the cast of characters who were there – Guy Clark, Nanci Griffith, Jim Rooney – it was an incredible experience. I’m just glad to be back.”
Lyle Lovett and His Acoustic Group are at the National Concert Hall, Dublin, on Monday, January 20th, and at the Ulster Hall, Belfast, on Tuesday, January 21st
