Kathy Matteaâs latest album, Pretty Bird, is in many ways a continuation of the West Virginia nativeâs journey back to the simple Appalachian sounds of her homeland. Hints of the regionâs acoustic roots have popped up throughout her Grammy-winning country career, best known to most folks for her signature song, 1988âs âEighteen Wheels and a Dozen Roses.â
With 2008âs Coal, Mattea leaned into the music of the West Virginia mountains like never before, singing about the complicated area export that is still a political hot potato in 2018. The acoustic evolution continued with 2012âs Calling Me Home, but Mattea faced an evolution of a different kind leading up to Pretty Bird.
A few years ago, Mattea suddenly discovered her voice was changing, and she couldnât hit the notes she once found with ease. In this Q&A, Mattea explains how she worked through her vocal challenges with the eclectic group of songs she recorded for the new project.
In the past decade, youâve stripped away a lot of the instrumentation from your music to explore more acoustic sounds. Over the past few years, youâve also had to relearn how to use your singing voice. Did that experience of first stripping away layers from your music help prepare you to later rebuild your voice?
It felt like that, only much more extreme. I didnât have a choice except to strip away. When I tried to do it the way I always knew how to do it, it wouldnât work. So, I didnât know when I began this process if what I was experiencing was the beginning of the end of my singing voice, or if it was just a shift, just a change. For instance, the transition in my chest voice to head voice, not to get too technical, had gone down a half-step after I went through menopause. So, my body has been singing the same songs in the same keys for many years and would just go for the way it knew to hit a certain note, and it wouldnât happen. I went, âWhat is going on?â
Was there a physical problem with your voice or was it just part of the process of getting older?
Really, it was the latter. There was nothing wrong with my voice except that it felt wrong because it was unfamiliar. So, it wasnât like an injury or anything like that. I got to hear Kenny Rogers during this time. He was on his final tour and he was like, âLook, I have no voice left, but I love these songs, and you guys love these songs. So, Iâm coming out to sing them for you one more time.â Heâs very open about it and I thought, âYeah, I canât do that. Iâm not wired that way.â If I canât sing in a way that I feel like Iâm really expressing myself, I will have to stop. I knew this about myself. So, I thought, âOK, Iâve got to answer the question.â
Who was there with you as you went through the process of relearning your voice?
Once a week, Bill Cooley, who has played guitar for me for 28 years, would come to my house, and weâd just jam in the afternoon. Weâll just brainstorm, because sometimes, in that open-ended time, thatâs when the creative process happens and surprises happen. I said, âBill, Iâve got to get to know my voice. Iâve got to experiment around and bump up against the edges.â So, I started throwing out songs that were really different than anything Iâd ever done. They were God-awful in the beginning, but it started to open up.
Youâve recorded with Tim OâBrien many times, and heâs also from West Virginia. What were you looking for from him as a producer on Pretty Bird?
I realized during this process that I needed to make another record. The songs Iâd put together were all so crazy different from each other! I couldnât figure out how I was going to do âPretty Birdâ and âOctober Songâ and âMercy Nowâ and âChocolate on My Tongueâ all on the same record and make it hang together. Iâm just chewing on this and chewing on this. Then one night, I woke up at 3 oâclock in the morning and said out loud in bed, âTim OâBrien has to produce this record! Heâll know exactly what to do!â Iâve heard Tim do jazz-flavored stuff, blues-flavored stuff, bluegrass stuff, mountain stuff â all that. He does it all from a deep understanding.
I definitely see you being drawn to documenting the way of life in West Virginia as well as the music. Whatâs prompting you there?
When I was growing up, I was completely eaten up by music. But there wasnât a lot of formal training around me. So, I would learn whatever I could from anyone who would teach me. My friendâs dad had a bluegrass band and heâd jam with me. I did community theater and I did folk music in my church. We had a little folk mass thing. Choral music in school, but there was nobody around to teach me the roots music of my place. So, that woke up in me in a big way later in my life. That last album, Calling Me Home, was about that sense of place that exists in Appalachia that has been lost in so much of the rest of the culture.
Most of my family lives back in the same basic area that we all grew up in and that our parents grew up in. Cousins, second cousins, third cousins now living just a few miles from where our moms were born. So, there is a sense that the contour of the land, the mountains, the river â all of that is like a member of your family. Bill, my guitar player, heâs from Southern California, and he was like, âKathy, why donât people move out and move away for jobs and stuff?â Iâm like, âBill, itâs not that simple.â You donât leave your family. You donât leave the nest, basically. And thereâs a whole exodus of people to Detroit to work in factories and stuff when all the mines shut down. Thereâs a whole culture of displaced people that pine for what that is and come back home eventually.
I think of it as being an expatriate, you know? Even though I moved to Tennessee when I was 19, I think of myself as a West Virginian who lives in Tennessee.
Getting into the songs you chose, letâs start out with Mary Gauthierâs âMercy Now.â Why does it appeal to you right now?
As we had this election, and it was very contentious, and there was all this tension and polarization and all the cultural stuff was going on, I just found myself listening to that song. I pulled it out and I would listen to it every day. So, one day I said, âBill, Iâve been listening to this song, and it really gives me a lot of solace. Itâs really different than anything Iâve ever done but I want to try.â I wanted to sing that song because in a time when people are polarizing, itâs really great to say, âI have pain. I have angst. I am scared. I am upset, and I need help from some place bigger than me.â
I love it because itâs not a âYou, you, youâ song. Itâs an âIâm looking at this, and I donât know what to do, and I need some help from something bigger than me.â Mercy doesnât come from me. Itâs a kind of grace that comes in from somewhere else. And I thought, âMan, how lucky am I? I get to sing that song every night.â The interesting thing is my audience doesnât know that song. So, I get to bring that song to a whole new group of people. Thatâs been a really satisfying experience.
I hear a similar theme in âI Canât Stand Up Alone.â It has a real gospel flavor with The Settles Singers backing you up. It seems to me that it would speak to the community that youâve been leaning on during your issues with your voice.
To me, âI Canât Stand Up Aloneâ is like the straight-at-it gospel version of âMercy Now.â âCanât Stand Up Aloneâ is like, âHoney, you need the Lord!â [Laughs] I love the contrast of two different approaches to basically the same thing. Iâm not very overt about it, but a lot of the process of this was really praying. I felt like I was praying a prayer and feeling my way in the dark over and over again.
You start the album with âChocolate on My Tongue,â which is an ode to the small joys in life, and then you go right into âOde to Billie Joe.â Itâs such a left turn. Tell me about that juxtaposition.
Hey, Iâm not pretending that all that stuff makes sense! [Laughs] I love âChocolate on My Tongue.â Itâs so playful and, for me, to have gone through such a struggle with my voice and to come out with something that light and playful â and to allow myself the freedom to do that, was such a gift.
Then, âOde to Billie Joe,â to me, is like a familiar, old friend. Those of us of a certain age know that and have memories of that song growing up. I found that when I went to sing it, that thereâs this low end â this low register in my voice that was always there, but never this rich. When I found that, it was the moment I turned the corner from thinking of my voice as something diminished to seeing that it was opening into something new that was beautiful. I was astonished by how that song brought that about in my voice.
The last song on the record is âPretty Birdâ by Hazel Dickens. Youâre singing it a capella. That had to be a vulnerable experience given all that youâve gone through.
I have loved âPretty Birdâ for a long time and I wanted to do it on my last album. I lived with it. I wrestled with it. I danced with it. Itâd pin me down, and then Iâd pin it down. I could not find my way into the song. I could not sing it. I could not make it come out. I think the reason is that if you tighten up at all, it will just die in your mouth. It wonât work. I couldnât pull back enough.
One night, [my husband] Jon is on the road and Iâm home alone. Iâm taking a shower before I go to bed that night and I just start singing that song. Iâm like, âOh my God! I donât know! I think Iâm singing it! I think this is happening!â But Iâm soaped up now and Iâm soaking wet. So, I keep singing, and I rinse off and dry off. The whole house is buttoned up for the night and my cell phone is plugged in downstairs. So, I grabbed the landline and I called my voicemail and I sang it into the voicemail so I have a record of what I did â so Iâd know which key I was in and where it lay and explore from there. The next thing, I was like, âOK, Iâve got it.â
I havenât done it live very much. So, it is still super vulnerable. Iâve been making myself pull it out and do it in the show because itâs the title song for my record. It feels like taking all my clothes off. But itâs like, âWell, youâve been through a process, and what youâve learned, Kathy, is that itâs not about perfection. Itâs about being real.â This is as blatant a demonstration of that as I can give people. You just have to trust that theyâll get it.
Photo by Reto Sterchi