I am following Astronautalis around the state of Texas. The St. Paul resident via Seattle by way of Dallas post-Jacksonville indie rapper, née Andy Bothwell, has played multiple shows within miles of my whereabouts over the past few days, and I’ve been getting to know him during the two hour-long catharsis sessions that are his concerts.
If you’re a fan, you already know about his nomad-meets-drifter ways; but if you’re not (yet), well, it’s imperative for you to understand where he comes from in order to envision where he’s going.
Tonight he is performing at Club Dada in Deep Ellum, just after having wrapped a stint at SXSW. A nine-time veteran of the Austin music festival; this year’s showcase marked the first time he was able to perform with a live band, as opposed to the talents of his laptop.
His hair disheveled, Astronautalis works the Dada stage, moving his legs so quickly he appears to be running in place – arms outstretched, like an extra in a zombie movie – as he belts out “The Wondersmith and His Sons [Pomegranate, 2008].” As the song ends, Astronautalis stares at the ground, as if to hold the end of a scene. His eyes still fixated on the floor, he breaks into a wide smile, and Andy looks up, graciously thanking his audience for their applause.
“Let’s do some freestyling, shall we?” Bothwell refers to his signature act, calling upon the audience to suggest random nouns that he will incorporate into a rhyme scheme.
Sweating from a combination of an energizing performance and the Texas heat, he channels Usher, gradually removing his clothing: the suspenders go, then the white button down, all the way to his white undershirt. When he speaks, his vocal fry is tattered and alluring. “They’re pretty awesome, right?” He says of his band, “I’m never going back to the laptop.”
He previews “Midday Moon,” a layered song that can be found on his latest album [This Is Our Science, out today] that reads like a short story and writes like a mystery novel amplified by synth surges. Recorded in Dallas, it is Bothwell’s first album in three years.
(As I write this, each time I look up at my Twitter feed,@astronautalis has recently hit ‘send’ on a new tweet, informing his devout followers of Science’s current iTunes ranking. Which is pretty impressive, hovering around the Top 10 on Hip Hop/Rap Albums.)
He performs “Xmas in July,” “Short Term Memory Loss” and “Trouble Hunters.” His fans begin to show signs of unrest, fearing the show will end soon. “You guys want to play the game?” Bothwell asks, sensing the worry, and feigns the end of the show. “We’re going to do one more song.” He mimes a slapstick wink and proceeds to play about four more songs before wrapping the show and greeting his fans.
I am sitting on the stage at Club Dada, furiously scribbling thoughts into my notebook, when a calm presence approaches on my left side, and takes a seat. Having briefly interviewed him in the past, there is one thing I know for certain about Bothwell: he is freaking delightful.
I gather my audio equipment, we move into the green room area, and take a seat in a booth next to an exposed brick wall. After seeing him perform in different atmospheres – Austin and Dallas – Bothwell tells me about the difference – the advantage – Dallas has on other cities. “They’re never ever the typical show, ever. They’re messy and the most fun. That’s sort of the expectation. They’re the shows where I get to relax. Whenever we’re in Dallas and Denton, it’s like hanging out with my friends. And that’s a really really great feeling.” My question is: if Bothwell is so enamored with Dallas, why doesn’t he just stay here?
A graduate of Southern Methodist University, many of his songs detail the time he lived in the area [“Gaston Ave” from You & Yer Good Ideas, 2005]. “It’s funny how often [Dallas] comes up [on tour]; how often you come across people that are associated with Dallas. The circle spreads wide, you know. We’ll be in the middle of Nebraska, and they’ll say, “Rubber Gloves [Rehearsal Studios, Denton]!” and I can’t rap about Rubber Gloves in Nebraska. I love that you’re here, but I can’t just have an inside joke. So yeah, it comes up pretty often.”
Having recently posted my review of Astronautalis’s SXSW showcase, I have to tell Bothwell one thing I said about him in order to gauge his reaction. Because he’s probably going to hate it. And that’s totally cool. Because I referred to him as ‘the Lady Gaga of Indie Rap.’
I pause for a moment after I tell him this, anticipating some kind of averse reaction, but that’s not what happens.
“I think that’s great!” He says, his voice sounding in a smile. “Man – that’s an insane compliment!” Phew. “I was actually talking to someone about this today. About how it’s kind of appalling to me how people will talk [expletive] about Lady Gaga, like there’s a hundred of her. Like there’s a thousand of her.” Empathy sounds in his exhausted vocal chords as he continues. “There’s not, there’s one of her. One person who is doing what she does and she’s restructuring the shape of pop culture. No matter how you feel about her music, you have to respect her impact.
I don’t own any of her albums, but I know the words to so many of her songs and I have a huge respect for her because that’s what pop is exciting for. When weird people manage to make inane things popular. It’s like what David Bowie did in the ‘70s.”
When I spoke with Bothwell before he (quite literally) jumped onstage at SXSW, he had a calm demeanor about him. As I watched him in front of an audience, he was transformed into an alternate persona. There’s Astronautalis, and then there’s Andy, and there’s a huge divide between the two. It’s the same way with Stefani Germanotta [Lady Gaga’s real name], hence the parallel. “Totally makes sense,” he says. “I’ll take that ‘Lady Gaga of Indie Rap’ any day of the week, give it to me!”
As we continue our conversation, his hands, tattooed with individual stories, keep catching my eyes. “The ‘DANG’ tattoo,” he says, picking the ink that means the most to him. “[It] is definitely my favorite. I had wanted to get the word ‘DANG’ tattooed on my knuckles for years.”
The artwork to which he refers is prominently displayed on the album cover of This Is Our Science. “I didn’t want to do it until I knew that I didn’t want to work a job that wouldn’t hire me as a result of that. I finally decided last year that I don’t ever want to work a job that won’t hire me because of this, so I ponied up. This is like the job killer, so this means the most to me, most assuredly, because it is the end of all things and the beginning of everything else.” Fortunately for Bothwell, this is definitely what he’s meant to be doing.
“I got a little out of hand tonight. I’ve been getting very excited on this tour,” he says of tonight’s nine minute-long freestyle. Does he ever get nervous he’s going to mess up? “No, I get nervous that I’m going to be boring!” How ‘boring’ could be possible when an audience has a person standing before them, somehow finding a rhyme for ‘rutabaga’ off the top of his head, is baffling. “At this point, I’ve been doing it for so long that I can speak in rhyme. It’s easy. I’m not going to mess up. I’m not going to not be able to rhyme words.
The best analogy is learning a second language. You start to learn it, and then you can fumble through it; then you can be practical, and order dinner, then eventually you become fluent in it. I’m now at the point with the language of rhyme that I can discuss politics and poetry with it, you know? Whereas when you first learn a language, you can’t discuss ephemeral ideas. You eventually develop that fluency.”
For whatever reason, I tell him he shouldn’t have to worry about this, but in reality, that is a very present-minded sentiment on my part. Bothwell is focused on the future. “[It’s] good that I worry about [being boring], because eventually I will be, and I need to make sure that I figure out a new way to [entertain] before then. I feel like anybody that is creative is better served by having worry in them, because they always want to be better.”
Bothwell is both detailed and eloquent during our conversation. For an artist, he is forthcoming with his responses, seemingly comfortable, trusting his story will be told in the proper way, for many ears to hear. Nothing is held back; however, an air of mystery lingers.
I ask him to tell me one thing about Astronautalis (the moniker creates a kind of social dissonance between who is he as Andy and who his fans see onstage) that he wants people to know. Something that hides in the back of his brain that fans don’t ever get to see or hear. “Most of us are scared. To death.” He says of the performing community as a whole. ”We’re scared to death of being irrelevant. We’re scared to death of falling short of ourselves.
You worry about that for the rest of your creative life. And so it is very nice when someone comes up and says nice things. It’s not an ego boost; it’s a maintaining of balance.
I would like to just express to everybody that has always said nice things to me, that I don’t think that I could ever possibly thank them enough. Because they always come at the lowest point and boost you back up, and that’s a really great thing.”
Really, Bothwell is a normal guy. Only a little bit crazy. But that’s a good thing. “Deep Ellum, Dada, Dallas, it’s good to be back,” he said at the close of his time onstage. “Thanks for being Dallas – thanks for being my home.” Tomorrow, he will get back on the road and continue to bring his unconventional talents to the rest of the cities on his US tour.
Fortunately, prodigal Astronautalis will not be gone for long; he will be back to his roots Friday, October 21, at Rubber Gloves Rehearsal Studios. I guess it’s hard to be continually giddy about one city, if you are always there. Perhaps it’s more exciting to have something wonderful to keep coming back to.
This Is Our Science is now available on iTunes
Photography by Emili Carmichael
View the entire photo set here
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Laura Stillo is the Arts & Entertainment Writer and Creative Social Media Producer for YouPlusDallas. Follow her on Twitter at @laurastillo.
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Tags: Andy Bothwell, Astronautalis, Club Dada, Emili Carmichael Photography, Laura Stillo, SMU, SXSW, This Is Our Science
