Photo By John Decker
If you are from New Jersey and furthermore from anywhere near Asbury Park you fancy yourself as knowledgeable about music than you have heard about Renee Maskin. Some people refer to her as “the girl with the hat”, other’s may have caught her when she was performing with Lowlight, but if you spend anytime surfing the web looking for shows in Asbury Park you are sure to see Renee’s name on several flyers. She is a staple of the Central NJ music scene but now she is breaking out nationally with her debut solo album “Swimming”. The album is an indie folk masterpiece and is already gaining attention from indie radio across the nation. We caught up with Renee and asked her to fill us in on what specifically inspired this collection of songs, here’s what she had to say:
Swimming is my first solo effort. Born of the doldrums of the pandemic, I did all of the instrumentation and production for it on my own. I’m not sure it’s the pure Americana record that everyone who knows me was expecting. But I had a lot of down time to toy around with pedals and synths and such.
I had been thinking it would be nice to articulate some of the influences and thought processes behind each of these songs, and even share some examples. So I’m thankful for the chance to do that here:
We Won’t Lose It Now
Sonically, the whole of Swimming draws a lot from Brian Eno. “We Won’t Lose It Now” is a solid example. The fat guitar line and noisy e-bows are obviously inspired by records like Another Green World, and “The Big Ship” being one of my go-to tunes from it.
When I was thinking about the song order of this record, Devendra Banhart entered my mind. I loved that his record What Will We Be starts off with a really joyous, sweet song about feeling good and in love. And while “We Won’t Lose It Now” might have a bit more of a melancholy undercurrent, I liked the idea of kicking off Swimming with a moment of feeling good.
And the feel-good aspect of the song was born out of the little guitar line that plays throughout. How could you write something truly gloomy to that? People like to say that guitar-driven music is dead, but I dunno. I think Vampire Weekend is doing just fine with it.
Save Me From This Place
For me, “Save Me From This Place” is the centerpiece of Swimming. It’s one of the first songs that really came together. And it’s a snapshot of isolation that a lot of us have felt in the last couple years.
The title and lyric of the song is a play on my favorite Fleetwood Mac tune, “Save Me a Place”. Although that song is about a nomadic person that wants to have his cake and eat it too. To roam but have love still waiting for him when he gets around to coming back. Mine is a “no really, I need to get out of this apartment” song.
I’ve always wanted to be in a surf band. I’ve always loved that iconic beat and the variations of it. Songs like “Every Time the Sun Comes Up” take the classic format and turn it into something emotive. I tried my best a few times on Swimming to do something similar.
And a good drone goes a long way. Whether it’s in the soundtrack of Trainspotting, or in Castanets “Sounded Like a Train, Wasn’t a Train”, it’s a useful tool to create a tension and a mood.
Summerfield
Ever since my best bud showed me Bill Callahan’s work several years ago, it’s settled into my thought process about lyrics. His songs are so picturesque, they sound like photographs. And a slightly disjointed rambling doesn’t hurt if it adds to the feeling. He’s always on my mind.
The National is good about landing on a line or two and repeating them. And letting the weight of them settle in without it becoming and actual chorus. I consider that a lot in my songwriting these days as well.
Although, my friend Ben Ross, who is working on a record with Mike Noordzy and me, said that the end line in “Summerfield” reminded him of “I know What Boys Like”. Which I think is really fucking funny.
Hot Moon
I was flipping through a Pablo Neruda collection and stumbled upon a poem where he uses the words “hot moon”. I liked that. That’s not just an image, it’s a feeling. The song sprang out from there.
There’s a word for a specific rhythm that I coined to myself and to my friends when I was in college. “Banana”. I remember listening to Bowie’s “Heroes” on a drive up 287 when it dawned on me. I was singing along to the later synths, “ba-na-na… ba-na-na…” It always makes me feel good when I encounter that little rhythm. And if you add some noisy instruments and some fun guitar, you’ve got yourself a song.
I’m not a percussionist, even though in my heart I’d love to be. A record that left its mark on me a long time ago, and that found it’s way into the character of Swimming, is Phosphorescent’s Pride. In general, the drums and percussion is sparse, simple, and perfect. Noisy when it counts, but never showy. This seemed like something that I could feasibly achieve working alone on this record.
Wind of Knives
The origin of this particular song is my favorite. I was having my first lunch since the pandemic with my friends and their two-year-old son. He was messing around with the butter knife on the table in front of him, and his mother wisely asked him not to play with knives. He then started on a tangent about imaginary knives flying through the wind. And when I got home, I started writing this song.
“Wind of Knives” is a portrait of Tom Waits having a tiki drink on a beach. I was very much channeling some of the elements in my favorite song of his, “Hold On”. And come to think of it, one of the lines in that song is from something his kid said. “But it’s so hard to dance that way when it’s cold and there’s no music.” Funny to connect these dots now.
I had made a little money on a side hustle last summer, and allowed myself to make an instrument purchase that had been on my mind for a long time. I love classical guitars. I walked into New Jersey Guitar and Bass Center, and my friend Alejandro Ataucusi pointed me towards a Godin. I purchased it in about ten minutes, and then smattered it all over the record as quickly as possible. A flamenco-esc rhythm comes in half way through “Wind of Knives”. I was thinking of The Ruby Suns “Oh, Mojave”, not just for borrowing that strum pattern, but for adding in a little noise and chaos to it too.
Of Your Dreams
This song was the first on the album to be finished. Where some of these songs struggled to find their whole sonic picture, this on manifested pretty fast.
Atmosphere is always on my mind. You can do so much with the right textures. And the right lyrics. Whether it’s Julien Baker’s “Sucker Punch” that makes you feel like you’re on a desert highway having an argument in your head with someone, or “Which Will” that makes you feel like you’re sitting next to Nick Drake reading an unsent love letter. Atmosphere is so important.
As much as I love lyricists that buck conventional formats, nobody writes a more tightly constructed song than Willie Nelson. He does so much while making it seem like he’s doing so little. I was really thinking about him here.
Rain and Stone
I came up with this song’s little guitar run and wondered if I could build an instrumental piece around it. The title came before all the tracks were together, and I remembered this beautiful song “Petrichor” that has the sound of rain in it. I tried to mimic that through guitar and pedals and found the bed of texture the song needed. I had experimented with keys and synths, but ultimately ended stripping them away in favor of something more sparse and simple. Little introspective instrumentals always get me.
Bolt
The name was inspired by David Bowie’s signature lightning bolt logo. I thought of it because I use a dissonant chord that he used (or something similar. I don’t know theory, but it’s got the feeling). And it’s a nice word because it means several things. A bolt of lightning in a storm. A bolt to keep you either grounded or tethered, depending on the situation. Or bolt as in “time to bolt on out of here”.
I had El Noordzo’s Shark Funeral in my car’s CD player for a few weeks on repeat after getting my copy. Even though there is a point at which the music stops, that record creates such a sonic world that I would always lose track of where it began and where it ended. That left such and impression on me. And although this isn’t my first try at it, I haven’t totally achieved the same thing yet. But ending the record on the lyric “It’s coming around again” was inspired by this idea of not just creating a collection of songs, but a little planet that keeps spinning on.
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This record was a journey for me. And I appreciate the response thus far. Thanks to everyone for listening.
Cheers!