A striking line from one of the Robert Schumann letters: ‘Music is nothing more than resonant light.’ I know that for you music has spiritual significance.
I think ‘resonant light’ is exactly right; scientifically, it’s a waveform just as light is, just a different part of the spectrum. I don’t know whether he knew that or whether it was just a poetic intuitive image but certainly it’s true scientifically. But yes, my spiritual life, if I have a spiritual life, is one of music. I seem to be, through music, in touch with something bigger than myself or bigger than the material world. I wouldn’t want to be more specific or detailed about it: it’s a spiritual path, music, classical music probably closer than anything else.
Why is that?
I think it’s really about the higher emotions, about the heart and the intellect at a very high level. It’s not really about the lower chakras, it’s not really about humping your girlfriend — and there’s nothing wrong with that, there’s a place in music for that. But classical music does tend to be higher in this sense. What it wants to achieve or what it wants to say about the human condition is, I think, rarefied — and I’m attracted to that.
Do you think it’s a music that we are naturally drawn to as we grow older?
I don’t think you have to be old to appreciate classical music, but yeah, in my path, it’s becoming more interesting to me. There’s certainly more to learn. If you want to learn arranging, then listen to Ravel. If you want to learn harmony or counterpoint, listen to the masters. I love Chuck Berry, but I’m not going to learn much harmonically from a twelve-bar rock song.
Before the Dowland record, were there certain classical works that were an entrée for you into classical music?
Well, I’ve borrowed bits of classical music before; I famously borrowed a piece of Prokofiev from the Lieutenant Kijé Suite, used as the love theme for my song “Russians” (I always quote my sources, I wasn’t ripping it off wholesale without saying that). A piece of Hanns Eisler for a song I wrote called “The Secret Marriage” — it was very chromatic. I sort of pick and choose things that I can deal with and utilize in my fashion. But I’m not a classical musician; I just appreciate it, and there are certain parts of it that I can . . . use.
How did If On a Winter’s Night come about?
It was suggested that I do a Christmas record, and I didn’t really like the sound of that. I said, “What do you want, ‘Chestnuts by an Open Fire’? ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’? I don’t think I want to do that.’ But if ‘Winter’ was the concept then I could bring in far more disparate elements. Say there’s a link between the Christian story and stories that are pre-Christian, the pagan idea of Regeneration as opposed to Salvation, which is what the winter festival is about: You deal with the past in order to move into the new year. All of the songs, even the Christian story, have that at their center. . . . It’s dark; it’s not a jolly Christmas record at all. I think it’s moody, it’s the sort of thing you want to listen to with a fire going on a dark night. [Laughs.]
Is the album title a Calvino reference?
Yeah, it is, If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler. It’s a very interesting book. For me it’s about authenticity. You’re constantly wondering, ‘What is the authentic book inside here?’ You’re constantly being turned around: ‘Well, this is not the authentic book, it’s a different kind of book.’ So it does apply to the album in that sense. Is any of this authentic? Is anything authentic? [Laughs.] What is authenticity?
Let’s talk about some of the more classically flavored morsels on this collection. What was your experience with Purcell’s ‘Cold Song’ from King Arthur?
I adapted it slightly, I took out the ‘ah-ah-ah-ah . . . ’ I sang it that way originally and thought that it was really taking away from the melody, for me, anyway. So I took the basic melody and thoroughly enjoyed singing it. I love Purcell. I find him very modern in a sense, his chromaticism, some of the harmonies are quite extraordinary. And I love the lyric.
That walking bass line, too. . . .
Yeah, it’s terrific. He had some good bass lines, Purcell. Music for a While — it’s one of my favorites.
You included a song from [Schubert’s] Winterreise.
It would have been strange to have ignored that, because it’s really a model for this whole project, which is a meditation on winter — you have to look at it somehow. So I chose one [“The Hurdy-Gurdy Man”] that I was able to do, translated the lyrics — not because they’re terribly difficult to translate — took some liberties with the dogs, and fit it in to the folk thing, with a squeezebox and a voice. It’s not high opera, it’s a man on the street — I can play that role.
And the Bach Sarabande from the D Minor Suite?
