Making a grand but spooky entrance

DAVID STITH is becoming a dab hand at juggling. When the quietly spoken twentysomething from upstate New York is not teaching sculpture, he's studying for his masters in graphic design. When he's not contemplating one of his freelance graphic design gigs, he is thinking about his music. And somewhere in the middle of all this, usually when he is having his breakfast cereal and staring out the window as his new home town of Bloomington, Indiana, comes to life, he is talking on the phone about Heavy Ghost.

This is the album he released a few weeks ago as DM Stith, and which reviewers welcomed rapturously. A transmission from another planet, Stith’s voice (a spooky falsetto which swoops and swoons like a mad old thing) and songs (all aflutter with religious imagery, ghostly murmurs and celestial intrigue) combine for one of those once-in-a-blue-moon grand entrances.

Stith himself comes across as a modest soul who seems quite unruffled by all this attention. Of course, he demurs, he hasn’t had the time to sit there and take it all in.

“The response has been really, really, really great, way better than I expected,” he says. “I don’t have a whole lot of time to think much about it with teaching and school, but my friends and family are constantly finding reviews and mentions online, and telling me about them.”

His path to this point began in Buffalo, where he was born and raised. Stith’s earliest musical dalliances, however, did not fill him with confidence or belief about his abilities.

“People didn’t understand my taste in music,” he says, laughing. “From an early age, I thought I had bad taste in music, so I think I eventually decided to go into visual art because it was a medium where I didn’t have to be there when people were experiencing it. I could do it at a distance.”

After college in Rochester, Stith moved to Brooklyn to work as a graphic designer. He became friends with Shara Worden, lead singer and songwriter of My Brightest Diamond, and helped with the recording of her solo album. This experience encouraged him to write and record his own spooky folk songs.

“Music has always meant a lot to me, but in order for me to get a grasp on it and get a process together, I had to not be afraid of what people thought about what I was doing,” he says. “That was impossible when I was young because I was so shy.”

Armed with a copy of the digital audio workstation, Pro Tools, Stith went to work under his own steam.

“I didn’t have a particular sound in mind when I started”, he recalls. “But I did know the process I wanted to use. I knew I wanted to be as spontaneous as I could be – and it worked out. I know what I like and I tend to bring a lot of different ideas to the recording session. I know you can’t incorporate all those ideas, but I suppose I tried to be inspired by Nina Simone’s vocal techniques and Randy Newman’s songwriting.”

STITH GREW UPin a devoutly Christian household and this background unintentionally resurfaced when he started writing.

“When I was younger, religion was very important to me,” he says. “I was brought up in a very religious family and I had my first significant experiences as a singer in church. As a family, we’d all sing together in church.

“Christianity, though, is not something which has been on my mind for the last couple of years. But when I came to record this album and started singing and figuring out what my voice could do, there was something about that muscle in my voice which associated singing with religion and my upbringing and memories of singing in church.

“I write in a very impulsive way. I don’t sit down and say ‘I’m going to write a love song’ or ‘I’m going to write a song about a Chevy’. I just start singing and let the content form. That guttural content is always going to be linked to my physical body in a way, and whatever I’m thinking deeply about is going to come out.

“It happened with this record that I started thinking about the story of Isaac and Abraham and other biblical allusions. I don’t expect that will keep showing up in my work, but it feels to me to be completely tied to this recording experience.”

Just as important as writing and recording was Stith’s discovery of a music and artistic community in Brooklyn to inspire and encourage him.

“When I moved to New York, I got to know Shara and Sufjan and a bunch of other people who have devoted their life to their art, and they’ve done it in a way that they’ve somehow remained balanced,” he says. “They’re busy and deeply involved in what they do, but their empathy is still engaged.

“That was something I feared. I always thought artists were aloof and self-centred, and that they lose touch with reality. That’s a stereotype I know, but it was a big relief and revelation all the same to meet these people and fall in love with them and to know that they’re really connected with the world in a way which is beautiful. I suppose that did freak me out.”

Heavy Ghosthas been released on Sufjan Stevens's Asthmatic Kitty label and Stith is now coming to terms with what is involved in promoting that album. Aside from having his breakfast interrupted on a regular basis to answer questions, it also involves a lot of live shows (including some recent dates in Ireland).

Some of these experiences are good and some are, well, not so good.

“I’ve always adapted really well to different mediums,” he explains. “When Asthmatic Kitty said ‘make an album’, I went off and made an album. I think it’s a good one and I’m very proud of it. It’s the same with other projects which come my way, like designing an album sleeve or writing a story. I go off and do them and I’m proud of what emerges because I’m pretty much emotionally involved in everything I do.

“When it comes to performance, though, it’s a little difficult when you end up in a horrible venue. Its like ‘do a show’ and you turn up to play in some terrible bar. It’s like I can’t protect my creative environment, and that’s difficult.”

A CASE INpoint is Stith's showcase at the South By Southwest festival in Texas, where he ended up playing in a rowdy bar that did not do the artist or audience any favours.

“I felt so out of sorts at South By Southwest,” he sighs as he recalls that gig. “There were hundreds of bands, loud music everywhere, bad listening environments on every corner. That show at the Beauty Bar was the worst show I ever played.

“For me, the best shows are where I don’t feel I have to be shy. I can make mistakes and it doesn’t matter because people are just there to see me. At those shows, I’ve always felt pretty confident and happy.

“Over the last few months, I’ve learned that I have limits. I don’t want to do festivals any more and I don’t want to play a lot of shows. I want to play shows that I and the musicians I play with have time to prepare for.

“It’s tough because I’m teaching and I’m studying as well, and all those things take a lot of time. But I’m prepared to put in the effort.”