In a drab, second-story classroom at the Victoria Conservatory of Music, we sat down with Juno nominated singer/songwriter Dan Mangan as he prepared for the final show of a cross-Canada tour and engaged in an extensive conversation about his latest album More Or Less, tantric sex, and the importance of letting go.
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Dallas Ross: Not to be glib right off the top, but you asked all of us a question last year and I wanted to start by posing the question back to you: What the hell is wrong with everybody right now?
Dan Mangan: *laughs* I think we are – and I don’t know if this is new, this could be a very old problem – but I think that we are with an ultimate amount of access to information of what’s happening in the world. I think that we’re kind of, a) overwhelmed but, b) stuck between two very diametrically opposed things which are trying to be an informed citizen and also trying to maintain some sense of stability. And, seemingly, the more informed you get about the world’s problems, you know, the harder it is to feel grounded in your feet and stable. So, I think that, like, trying to figure out where that balance lies is really tough.
DR: What do you think we could be doing to try and find that balance? Or, is it a personal thing and individual to each person?
DM: Well, I think that’s basically what every age of humanity has sort of leaned upon as some philosophy or religion or whatever to sort of lean to for answers like that, you know. I dunno. I mean, it’s partly Buddhist or whatever to sort of accept that you can’t change things and to reserve a part of your mind that is just for you.
It feels good, that’s the problem. It feels good to care and it feels good to, like, take on pain. But you don’t solve the pain by feeling more pain. You feel like a good person. You feel like, by feeling bad or sad for the world that you are a good person because you must have such wonderful ethics in order to feel sad for other people’s sadness. But that doesn’t take any pain away it only adds more pain, so I think that people lean on all kinds of things.
What do I do? I articulate my shit in my head into songs and then it’s, like, I’ve exercised my demons, you know? It’s like I’m able to get them out of my brain and onto a piece of paper and then into melodies and then I don’t feel so heavy anymore. I feel more light because that thing that was keeping me up at night is, I’ve already thought about that, I’ve already dealt with that.
I think everyone has their own thing, you know. Some people go to church, some people shoot guns, some people go hiking, some people go rock climbing. Whatever it is that gets you unconscious and gets you stable and feeling calm in your skin. Everyone just needs to find their thing and for me it’s always been the arts and creativity and expression, but I understand that not everybody has access to that or not everybody has a situation where they can indulge that. So, you know, I’m lucky that I found something that makes me feel good.
DR: It’s not really surprising then that we see so much addiction and people struggling with addiction. That’s that outlet for people who don’t know what other outlet they have.
DM: Yeah. Then, so, the churchgoing folks say, “Oh, all these people are turning to drugs because they have a void in their soul and they need to find God”. And then, artistic people say, “No, these people are fucking bored as shit and they feel a void and they feel like they have this gaping hole in them and they need to fill it with art”. You know? And then some people say, “No, they’re just poor. They need to work harder and make more and have more stuff”. So, it’s like everybody has their own angle on how to fill the void.
But, honestly, I think that we’re so far disconnected from the basis, animal thing in us – like, hunter/gatherer – we’re so disconnected from the infrastructure that brings us food, we’re disconnected from the daily necessity needs that we have because we’ve advanced to a point where society sort of, like, has these deep, infrastructural chain of events that happen that keep food on the table, etcetera. It’s like the post-post-modern religion is shopping, you know?
I think that we’ve entered an age of such incredible consumerism and it’s just like the thing that people do. And, you know, it’s just like anything, though. If you’re living in denial of something, you’re not going to be happy. And so, you can subscribe whatever church you want or whatever thing and if you’re not touching base with the honesty inside you, you’re existing in this state of, like, *mockingly* “Oh, this is great”. I think it’s OK to be fucked up about stuff. I think it’s totally normal to be conflicted and sad or angry about things and the only shame is to not learn from it or, like, work through it and let it eat away at you.
But, also, I don’t have the answers, either. I’ve just sort of learned what keeps me on the rails. I think existence is a big, chaotic, absurd joke. Everything is so intertwined and interconnected, I don’t believe in some crazy higher purpose, I don’t believe that any of this matters except it matters to us. So, that’s the important distinction. It’s like, love matters to me. People matter to me. I’m sure I matter to people. But, there’s no purpose beyond that. It’s not like there’s a thing above us going, “Here’s your purpose”. We find our purpose.
DR: Do you think then that’s where this disconnect or stress comes from? Like, maybe we understand that and we don’t want to touch it or get too close to it because it makes us feel sad or it makes us feel afraid and that creates this dissonance inside us that we need to fill with drugs or music or art?
DM: So, the song “Lynchpin” on More Or Less is this analogy of, like, we’re a grenade and you hold onto these principles of something – it could be patriotism or pride or the 2nd Amendment or family values or religion or art or science – you can hold onto this thing and put a halo on it and you say, “As long as I have that. As long as we have that then it’s going to be fine”, and anyone who pokes holes in that thing, or if you come across some evidence that suggests that thing that you’ve put all your weight and all your value in might be bullshit, it’s like pulling the lynchpin out of the grenade and all of a sudden we’re volatile and we say, “Well, fuck. My whole life I’ve said that family is the most important thing. What if I hate my family? Then what fucking foundation do I have for anything?”
DR: Who am I?
DM: Who am I? That’s right. Because I’ve put my entire identity in this one thing my whole life and that’s what my parents told me to do and that’s what I’ve been taught and that’s what I do. I’ve wrapped my entire existence and entire identity into this philosophy or idea of, like, “I’m an American or I’m a Canadian or I’m a, you know, whatever” and then you poke holes in it, and you’re, like, “Well, if I’m not that I’m nothing”. And then you’re volatile and all you have to do is let go of the pin and you explode and you’re a fucking mess.
So, anytime I find myself leaning on something too heavily – some belief or something – I want to extract it. I want to remove it from my mind and approach things from another angle and be, like, “Well, this is wrong. Maybe that thing I’ve spent the last five years of my life trying to hold onto is wrong”. I think that’s how we grow. But, sometimes growing hurts.
DR: Speaking of the album – it’s a beautiful album, by the way.
DM: Thank you.
DR: I read that you spent five years hunkering down at home starting your family and that when you finally went outside your front door, the world had changed in a way that you didn’t quite recognize and you didn’t know what the rules were anymore. Now that you’ve been on tour for a while and engaged with this new world instead of just seeing it through your living room window, do you feel better?
DM: I feel better about myself then I did a few years ago. And, again, I spent my twenties throwing every egg in the basket of *sarcastically* “I’m an artist”, “I’m a musician”, “I’m a writer”, that’s who I am, you know? And you wear the clothes that you think musicians wear and, you know? You sort of do the thing…
DR: I understand exactly what you mean.
DM: …like, you put all of your identity into this idea in your head and then you have a kid and you’re like, “Music is great, but it doesn’t have shit on my kid. My kid is so much cooler than anything”. And then you’re like, “Wait a minute. I spent my whole life adoring this thing that doesn’t even exist. Who am I?”
And then your kids get a little bit older and you investigate your identity as a dad. You spend several years just being a “dad” and that’s your whole identity. Like, “Oh my god, I’m such a great dad”, you know? And then you’re like, “Ah, fuck. I’ve gotta figure it out again because now I’m over this, sort of, hump or paradigm shift of being a person with kids”, and it becomes very normal to have kids instead of “Oh my god, mind blowing revelations every day”. And then, you reemerge and you’re like, “Well, Ok. Maybe I can be an artist and a dad and maybe the hierarchy of importance is not artist at the very top but just good person”. You know? Do I make people around me feel good? And that’s the mark of a good person.
It’s not even about how generous you are or what philanthropy you do. It’s “do you make the people around you feel OK?” And, “Is your presence a settling presence?” “Do you create calmness for other people?” “Do you make other people like themselves when they’re with you?” And that’s the most important thing. And then “dad”, “husband”, “artist”, “musician”, whatever, those are all put in there.
So, that’s the paradigm shift. That’s “Lynchpin”. There’s a lot of writing about like, you know, “Every morning is a resurrection”. It’s sort of like, you get another chance. You can choose who you want to be. And, I dunno. Sorry, I’m rambling…
DR: No, it’s totally fine. But, speaking of family and kids and all that sort of stuff – and I’m not sure I can really express how much I understand where you’re coming from – to write an album that personal where you talk – not directly about your family, but they’re certainly there with you…
DM: Definitely
DR: …and then to go out and be away from them. What is that like, because it’s your profession? I go to the office every day but then I get to go home.
DM: Yeah, it’s weird. It’s really weird to be away. I kinda have to put on tour skin a little bit, you know? Like, if I think about being away from the boys too much, I get really sad and then I’m not doing my job, you know what I mean? Then I’m not serving either purpose. I’m out on the road but I’m not giving my best shows because I’m kinda fucked up. It’s like, if I’m gonna be away from them I might as well be putting on good shows. It’s just about balance. It’s about trying to make sure that I’m home enough. I don’t like being away from them. I don’t like the idea that I’m leaving my wife outnumbered with two boys, but also, I need to show them what grownups do.
Do grownups make sandwiches and watch TV? Or, do grownups do cool shit? I want to do so much cool shit and then they will think that’s what adults do. It’s like, do adults just cook for me and go to bed? Is that the only thing adults do? No, they can all kinds of crazy shit. They can do anything. And then, when they grow up, that will seem normal to them. I think that’s an important gift to give to the kids is the idea that, whatever they want to do, if they have a thing that drives them, they can do it.
DR: Do they know what you do? Are you “Cool Dad”? Or, are you just “Dad”?
DM: No, no, no. I’m just Dad. Definitely not “Cool Dad”. Maybe when they’re, like, fifteen. No, actually, no. Not even then. It would be the opposite.
DR: *laughs* You’d be even more embarrassing.
DM: *laughs* ‘Cause then whatever clothes I’m wearing in all the cool photos now they’ll be like, “Oh god! What were you thinking?” I dunno. I do hope they discover the music for themselves, though.
DR: Do you play your own stuff around the house or is it pretty much anything but?
DM: Like, do I listen to my own records at home? God no.
DR: No.
DM: But, because when you’re in the process of making a record, you’re listening to rough mixes, you’re putting things on different stereos around the house to hear how it sounds in different rooms. So, like, it’s around. And then the other weird thing is being in the car with the boys and then your song comes on the radio and they’re like, “Oh, it’s Daddy’s song”. And that’s exciting but, at the same time, I think they think that everyone’s daddy has songs on the radio and it’s just really normal.
That’s why kids are so perfectly, like, humbling. Because they don’t care. They don’t see you as being cool or not cool. The only thing they care about is how they feel when they’re with you. They’re the perfect energetic compass. Have you ever had someone come into the room and the kid’s just, like, “I don’t like that person”? And you’re like, “what is it about this person that they don’t like?” And maybe the kid in onto something that I’m missing, you know? Kids just suss shit out.
DR: It’s true.
DM: They could walk right up to the fuckin’ Pope and be like, “I don’t like you”.
DR: And that energy is reciprocal, too. Like, I feel better when my girls walk into a room. It’s an odd transfer of energy between a parent and child.
DM: That’s amazing.
DR: *looking at my notebook* Well, I asked my last question first.
DM: Now you’ll have to work backwards. *notices the handwriting in my book* Man, that is some chicken scratch shit.
DR: I understand what it means. I think of it like writing in code. Tyson was giving me shit about it earlier, too.
DM: *laughs*
DR: I also wanted to bring up – you’ve said that you were listening to a lot of Astral Weeks while you were making More Or Less, and that’s one of my all-time favourite albums…
DM: It’s an incredible record.
DR: …sonically, the two albums don’t sound super similar…
DM: No.
DR: …so, what did you pull from Astral Weeks that you put into More Or Less?
DM: That it sounds eerily perfect and accidental. Like, you feel like the musicians on Astral Weeks have never heard these songs before and they just sort of said, “Ok, it kinda goes like this. Let’s give it a shot” and then they pressed record and then they played it.
Throughout this process, there were so many times when I thought, “Oh, it’s pretty good but, like, maybe we can do this or maybe we can edit this or maybe we add a million things”, and Drew – who produced eighty percent of the record – would say, “Sit on it. Don’t listen to it for two weeks and then in two weeks tell me what you think”. And then, in two weeks, I’d be, like, “Wow. This is really good”, you know? And I’m sure it was the same thing with Astral Weeks, like those super notey bass lines and stuff…
DR: “The Way Young Lovers Do” has one of the craziest bass lines I’ve ever heard.
DM: …and it’s so beautiful and alive and that’s what Drew really wanted to preserve was this, sort of, human element. I think that so much modern music is just, like, so fucking square. Even great pop music that I think is great, you listen to it and it’s so square. It’s all on the grid. It’s all perfectly aligned. The vocals are tuned a certain way. It’s sonically so massive and compressed and huge, you know, and somewhere in the mix we’ve lost a little bit of humanity. And if art is to reflect humanity, humanity is not perfect. So why would the art sound perfect? I like how the record feels kind of accidental.
The second chorus in the last song, “Which Is It”, the bass and the drums and the acoustic guitar are all – it’s like it could just fucking fall apart at any second. Everything is just barely holding on together in this way and the lyrics over top of it are saying, “Drawn to whatever’s hanging low on the tree. Drawn to whatever prison tells us we’re free”. It’s kind of preaching these things and what the lyrics are saying is what the instruments were doing. It’s like it’s sort of falling apart at the seams, poking and pulling the threads of this thing and probably as soon as we did that take, I was like, “We could probably do that better”…
DR: Like it was too loose.
DM: Like it was too loose, we could probably do that a bit tighter. But now when I hear it, I’m like, “Thank fuck we left it how it is” because it’s perfect.
DR: It’s so interesting to hear you talk about the album in that way because it does feel alive when you listen to it. It feels like it’s happening in real time right in front of you.
DM: Well, and a song like “Peaks and Valleys” – you’ll hear it tonight – it’ll sound sort of like the record but that is just a thing. That was Jason playing a Minimoog instead of a bass and I don’t know what the fuck he was doing but there was some crazy shit coming out of that instrument. And at the same time, Joey is just playing this insane drum solo for, like, three straight minutes and we didn’t move anything around but we just completely muted the drums, ‘cause when we tracked it he played the entire time, and then we just muted them and unmuted them. Muted them and unmuted them. And it created this arrangement of peak and valley and the whole song is either peak or valley and it just flips the switch back and forth, back and forth.
You know, we can try and recreate that live but nothing will ever be that. That was one of the most magical recording experiences of my life because it was, like, the first thing we tried. When I demoed it, it was this kinda lilty, Motown thing and then Joey just started playing what he was doing, and I totally changed my rhythm. Like, my feel on the guitar five minutes prior was entirely different and I just changed what I was doing to fit him and going like, “Fuck, whatever. Let’s try it one time like this” and then Drew was like, “Ok, I think I got it” and I’m like, “What do you mean you think you got it? That was Ok, but we can try some other stuff” but he just knew. He was like, “Nope, that was it”. He had a vision. But it would never happen that way if we thought about it or, like, manufacture that moment again. It would be impossible.
DR: It’s about accepting the genuineness of the moment.
DM: And a genuineness to let it go, you know? Like, you can’t perfect everything. Just let it go.
We had a show in Vancouver the other night that I’ve never experienced before. It was like I was levitating. It didn’t even feel like a concert, it felt like a two-hour tantric hug, I think that’s what I called it on Instagram. You know how the whole idea of tantric sex is to stay, like, right at climax for as long possible?
DR: Yes.
DM: *laughs*
DR: *laughs* I was way too confident in the way I answered that.
DM: *laughs* Yes! I know exactly what that means!
But, it felt like the most intense part of a hug for two hours. It was just unbelievable, and I think an earlier version of myself would have left the stage and been like, “That was fucking incredible and now I’m terrified that the rest of my life will never feel that good”. But I’ve done enough work with my brain to let go of that and just say, “That was what it was and I don’t need to try and recreate it” Tonight’s gig is going to be tonight’s gig and that was just that night’s gig. And if I approach tonight’s gig going, “I hope it’s like Vancouver”, we’re doomed. The whole thing is fucking shot. It’s never gonna be good. You have to let every moment be what it is, you know?
It’s the same thing, like, when you look at your idols. I see someone on a stage and they blow my mind and I’m like, “Fuck, that person is incredible. Look what they’re doing!”. And my first reaction is to be like, “What kind of guitar peddles are they using? What effects are they using? I want to write a song like that. Maybe I’ll start dressing like that”. And, the truth is, the thing that makes them great is that they are being like them. They’re not trying to be someone else. They’re just being them.
*Dan’s tour manager Henry comes to the door to let us know that our time is up*
DR: They’ve come to make sure we didn’t kidnap you.
DM: *to Henry* Do we have a minute or two? I’ll be down in a sec.
Henry: Sure.
DM: You know, it’s the same with the gig. If I approach every gig, like, “Oh man, I want it to be like that gig”, it’ll never be like that gig. But if I approach tonight going, like, “Huh, I wonder what will happen” and maybe it’ll be great and maybe it won’t be, but it’ll be exactly what it is and that process of letting go is the same thing as letting go of all your hang ups. Of letting go of your lynchpins. Letting go of *sarcastically* “Oh, I used to be thought of as a musician. I wasted all my…”, you know? And that’s still part of me but that process of letting go of all the little bits, that’s how you get content. That’s how you get strong of mind and calm and peaceful. That’s the goal.
And the other funny thing is that there’s no finish line, right? The only finish line is dying. And the second you feel like, “Oh, I figured out life! Here we are! Isn’t that great? God, life is gonna be so easy from here on out”. Like, guess what? You are in for some shit.
DR: You never know what’s around the corner, bud.
DM: And then the next morning you wake up and you’re like, “Ugh, I fucking hate myself”
*everyone laughs*
