Imaad Wasif

(March 2006)

Interview by Adam McKibbin

There are assumptions that get made whenever someone who has spent his career in bands—as Imaad Wasif has—releases a solo record.  Wasif has been both a co-leader (alaska!, lowercase) and a later addition (The New Folk Implosion and, currently, touring with Yeah Yeah Yeahs).  So surely this solo debut—self-titled and featuring Wasif alone with his typewriter on the cover—is the most exposed he’s ever been?

“No,” says Wasif firmly, pausing before elaborating.  “There’s a thread running through all the records that I’ve made.”

It may be, though, that the thread is more visible for visitors on the new solo record, as there isn’t much noise to get in the way (lowercase and alaska! were both a little more demanding on the speakers).  Lyrics and vocals are laid bare front and center, sometimes accompanied by only the lightest strum of an acoustic guitar.  These are songs about faith and broken faith, hope and heartbreak, and they spend plenty of time exploring the shadows (“The dark’s all I’ve got,” Wasif sings on the stand-out opener “Spark”).

“This record really wasn’t intentionally that way,” Wasif says, “But it’s part of the course of my life.  I think ultimately I’d like people to be happy when they hear this record.  That’s my hope for it.  It’s really about getting through those periods and those emotions.  This was literally—I needed to record this record to get through that part of my life.”

That arc does emerge from the album, so long as listeners are willing to walk down into the valleys to get to the hilltops.  For example, “Blade,” which seems to begin as the sweetest of pledges (“I will wait until you come back some day,” he begins, in one of the album’s most affecting vocals) takes a turn for the worse and then ends with Wasif moving in a different direction:  “I’m leaving, baby.  I’m leaving.”  Sad stuff?  Sure.  But the listener is left with the distinct impression that there are better days ahead—that, in the case of “Blade,” leaving is the right thing to do.

The record was made during a brisk eight day session in Nashville with Mark Nevers, whose illustrious list of production credits includes Bonnie “Prince” Billy, Silver Jews and Lambchop.  Wasif, who had written most of the songs during a “very intense period” a year earlier, knew from early on that he wanted to work with Nevers.

Although he hopes his music can help others through those dark patches, Wasif wasn’t typically able to turn to music from others for solace.

“The way I listen to music is very sporadic now,” he says.  “I’m not consciously listening to records while I’m recording.  I’m usually pretty immersed in that process.”  Music has become a part of his daily existence, although he says that he initially fled from it altogether.  Once he was about 14 years old, he made the decision to start writing songs, and hasn’t stopped since.

As outside music comes in sporadically, Wasif also turns to the literary world for stirring creative juices.  He talks about enjoying the search for beauty within a book’s binding—“I just get very swept away,” he says—and admits that his tastes tend to run toward the intense.

“I’m actually trying to read Proust right now,” he says with a chuckle.

Yeah?  How’s that going?

“Brutal.  I’ve fucking thrown the book at the wall.”

With his first solo album about to see its release and a big, spring-long tour with Yeah Yeah Yeahs looming, he’ll surely be forgiven if he postpones the fight.  Based on the evidence shown on the album, though, don’t count on Wasif giving up on it.