Interview with Brant Bjork: The King of Desert Groove
Posted in Features on April 2nd, 2010 by H.P. Taskmaster
Desert rock luminary Brant Bjork has been embroiled in a prolific solo career for over a decade now, and with his latest album, Gods and Goddesses (released through his own Low Desert Punk imprint; the reincarnated version of what was once Duna Records), the former Kyuss and Fu Manchu drummer and successful multi-instrumentalist has changed his approach somewhat, focusing on higher production value and a tighter range of execution. In short, he’s gone back to his straightforward rock roots and blended the aesthetics of early ’70s hard rock (Deep Purple, Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, etc.) vinyl releases with his trademark desert approach, incorporating elements of surf, funk, soul and jazz for good measure.
My review of the album is here, so I won’t go on about it, but as someone who’s followed Brant Bjork‘s progression over the course of his solo works, it’s hard not to be excited about the material and dynamics Gods and Goddesses presents. Joining Bjork on the album are bassist and longtime friend Billy Cordell (Yawning Man), guitarist Brandon Henderson and drummer Giampaolo Farnedi, and the unit sound both crisp and organic thanks to the production of Ethan Allen (The 88s, Luscious Jackson), with whom Bjork has, as he explains in the interview, been waiting to work with for years.
He and the band are currently embarked on a European tour that includes a stop at the Roadburn festival in Tilburg, The Netherlands, but before he left, Brant Bjork took some time to discuss over the phone the change in his approach to making records that preceded Gods and Goddesses, founding Low Desert Punk, his time spent living in Spain and much more. Q&A is after the jump. Please enjoy.
On the opening track of his ninth solo album, Gods and Goddesses, Brant Bjork sings, “What you’re hearing is exactly what was heard, yeah.” The former Kyuss and Fu Manchu drummer and songwriting force behind the short-lived Ché project isn’t wrong either; like each of his records since 1999’s debut, Jalamanta, Gods and Goddesses has a righteously natural feel. As ever, the songs sound like solo material, as in, they feel written by one person — which I never saw as a problem — but Brant (and here I’ll veer from my usual last-name-only method to save anyone being confused as to of whom we’re speaking) has adopted a methodology for coping with that. He’s put a new band together.


