By Gregg Shapiro
For the longest time, queer country and folk music fans didn’t have much good music by queer artists from which to choose. Sure, country music provided them with plenty of divas, including Dolly
Parton and Reba McEntire, to worship. Willie Nelson was the closest thing to a leftie as could be
found in the genre. Whereas folk music was a bit more welcoming to both queer followers and
performers. Much has changed with more country artists coming out, from Lavender Country, Chely Wright, Ty Herndon, and Billy Gilman to Brandy Clark, TJ Osbourne, Brandi Carlile, Jaime Wyatt, Orville Peck, Amethyst Kiah, Jake Blount, Melissa Carper, and Brooke Eden, to name a few. If Arkansas-based Willi Carlisle isn’t on your radar yet, he should be. Not only do Carlisle’s distinctively poetic lyrics separate him from most of the pack, but as an accomplished multiinstrumentalist, his talent is sure to
make a lasting impression. Carlisle, whose remarkable new album “Critterland” (Signature Sounds),
was released earlier this year, generously made the time for an interview.
Gregg Shapiro: Willi, I’d like you tosay a few words about your musical influences in the folk,
country, and LGBTQ+ music worlds.
Willi Carlisle: Welp, I’m an interdisciplinary artist, so my influences are pretty varied! Classic
American authors like Walt Whitman and Melville, folksingers Utah Phillips and Ramblin’ Jack Elliot, as
well as many writers in our contemporary Americana scene. Recently, Anna Tivel, Adeem the Artist, Tyler Childers. I’d also count outliers like the puppeteers Peter Schulman and Micheal Sommers, folk punks like Apes of the State and Defiance! Ohio, plus drag queens and clowns everywhere. A
newspaper once called Walt Whitman “a queer occultist or a blethering yokel,” and I thought I’d
try to be both.
GS: You received an MFA in Poetry from the University of Arkansas. There have been some wonderful queer visiting writers at the school including Robin Becker and Natalie Diaz. With whom did you study while in the MFA program?
WC: People make much of my master’s degree in poetry [laughs]! I enjoyed some aspects of it, but
frankly spent more time with a fiddle under my chin than with a pen in my hand. I moved to Arkansas to be a folksinger, and the MFA was perhaps a means to an end, even if I didn’t see it at the time. I called a square dance or played old-timey music a few nights a week. I studied with Geffrey Davis, Kentuckian Davis McCombs, the neo-formalist Geoffrey Brock, the late Ellen Gilchrist, and, briefly, Henri Cole. I was not a great student, but I adored my colleagues. Closeted and struggling in Arkansas, I was mostly chasing music and love.
GS: Have you published a full length poetry collection or chapbook?
WC: Nah. Maybe someday.
GS: Does your background in poetry have anything to do with the inclusion of spoken word
tracks such as the title cut from “Peculiar, Missouri” and “The Money Grows On Trees” from
“Critterland?”
WC: Sure! But “Peculiar” is my attempt to do a song in the tradition of dozens (if not hundreds) of talking blues story songs, too. “Money Grows on Trees” might be spoken word, but it’s a bad-man-ballad like the ones I heard sung about local legends all over Arkansas. Which is to say, vernacular poetry and songs have always been in our world, our tradition. The most common question I get is the difference between poetry and music, and there’s none. No difference! Lord, let me eschew obfuscation and yank the highfalutin chain of our histories out of every lowly lover.
GS: To my ears, songs such as “I Won’t Be Afraid,” “Life On the Fence,” and “Your Heart’s A Big Tent,” from “Peculiar, Missouri” and “The Arrangements” and the title tune from “Critterland” wear their queerness on their denim sleeves. Do you have a sense of how these songs been received by folks in the LGBTQ+ community?
WC: They seem to like ‘em. Because I’m a “daywalker,” and spent most of my life passing as straight. I guess I got pretty good at writing queercoded things. Our audience is diverse and welcoming, and that’s
my favorite thing about my work. As many bi/pan/yes/and people do, I often don’t feel “queer enough.” I’ve never been part of certain queer subcultures or visibility movements. For me, being queer always lived at truck-stops, on Craigslist, while couch-surfing, and frequently involved being afraid, closeted, and tough. It never presented itself in a “respectable” way, so I feel very seen when other LGBTQ+ people like it. At the heart of queerness is a relationship to love, friendship, and sex that goes beyond procreativity, marriage, property, or gender. If I get to sing that into the world, I’m happy.
GS: How do you think these songs
have been received by non-
LGBTQ+ folks in the folk and
country music world?
WC: Honestly? People rarely notice they’re queer songs. Or maybe they do but stay hushed about it? In one instance, the brilliant writer Steacy Easton (whose debut memoir “Daddy” I’m stoked to read) said my song “Tulsa’s Last Magician” was queer. They’re right, but someone took umbrage, said that they thought it was a song about a working-class guy and not a “gay thing,” said he was bummed that
he’d missed the point. Thing is, the song is both queer and working class. Sometimes straight folks
seem to think if something isn’t straight that they’re not allowed to connect to it. Hooey like that
keeps our worlds too far apart.
GS: Speaking of which, it was a pleasant surprise to hear musician and ally Darrell Scott
playing on most of the songs on “Critterland.” How did that collaboration come to be?
WC: We wanted to work with a dynamic writer and multiinstrumentalist, a DIY-doer, and man of letters.
Darrell fit the bill perfectly. We talked about poetry and literature most of the first night, forgetting to work on songs. [Laughs] Honestly? My management put us in touch. I’m new to this industry and travelled the country playing in honky-tonks without any support or industry bona fides for the better part of a decade before I could’ve found my way into Darrell’s studio.
GS: Many of your songs have a cinematic quality which made me wonder if any of your music has been used in any movies or TV show.
WC: Nah [laughs]! Wouldn’t that be cool though?
GS: Is there a style of music that you listen to for your own enjoyment that might surprise
your fans?
WC: I’m pretty eclectic! I’ve enjoyed the rise of Chappell Roan this year, and also like grindcore, extreme metal, doom metal, and polka. I’m not an expert in any of this stuff and refuse to be too knowledgeable.
GS: Even though she’s missing an S, could there be a Willi Carlisle and Brandi Carlile collaboration in your future?
WC: [Laughs] Just sitting here waiting on the call! Let’s do this,
Brandi.
GS: Finally, you are performing on September 7 as part of the initial Evanston Folk Festival, along with Patty Griffin, Madi Diaz, and Nora O’Connor, among others. What does it mean to you to be part of this festival and line-up?
WC: It means there’ll be a big party. As a younger man, I used to go to the Chicago Zen Center in Evanston, and afterwards sit and hit on people in the bookstores, and play banjo insufferably on the streets, hoping Northwestern students would find me handsome. I’m basically doing
the same thing, but, getting paid. It’s an epic lineup, and I’m gonna give it
my all.
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