John writes:

One of the more interesting & exciting singer-songwriters on the country end of what's come to be called Adult Acoustic Alternative music, Iris DeMent has become a darling of some of our savvier critics. Robert Christgau, for instance, writes of her, "Without any exaggeration, one of the most original and deeply rooted singers and songwriters to emerge this decade. . . . The intensity, concentration and natural force of her voice is enough to fill a room." No less an authority than John Prine tells us to "listen to this music, this Iris DeMent. It's good for you." Her voice is indeed remarkable. The influence of roots legends like the Carter family is obvious, but DeMent has infused into her musical inheritance an urgent sense of what it means to be alive and awake in the contemporary world. The combination is affecting, sometimes chilling.

Charming & earnest, Iris answered questions for me before her sound check in a cafe outside the Carefree Theatre in West Palm Beach. I bought her a beer (she drinks Sam Adams), and in between the clank of pans in the kitchen and her urging me to eat my clam chowder, this is what she had to say.

J. How have you enjoyed your southern tour so far? I know you've been to New Orleans & Tallahassee.

I. Yeah, and Baton Rouge & parts of Texas. It's going real well; we've been having a good time.

J. And you toured with Merle Haggard. What was it, last year?

I. Uh, I guess it WAS a year ago now. We went out & I played the piano a couple of weeks for his band.

J. How would you describe the experience of touring with him?

I. Scary. [laughs] Fun & scary. Well, Merle told me that I could do that. It wasn't so much that he needed a piano player, or that I'm such a great piano player. It's more that he knew that I admire him a lot, & I think he knew that I could benefit from being around a group of people like that, which is mainly why I went. And I definitely did. It was really neat to watch some- body who I'd idolized, and in a lot of ways even patterned myself after. Not exactly, but in certain aspects for sure. To be around him & that band, I learned a lot. It was really inspiring.

J. Has the more political slant of the new album come out of that?

I. I don't think it actually came out of that, because some of those songs I'd actually written--well, one of them at least--long before I met Merle. I think that my willingness to record songs like that had a lot to do with sit- ting down & looking at his body of work & some of the things that he had the courage to sing publicly. I think in that sense his music had a lot to do with my willingness to sing them.

J. One criticism sometimes leveled against you has been what some reviewers see as a tendency for some of your songs to cross over that line between sentiment & sentimentality, perhaps particularly on your second album, My Life. This seems to be mostly absent from The Way I Should. Is this a conscious decision, or just the way the songs came to you?

I. Well, the only conscious decision that I made when I started on this record was that I wanted to write things I was excited about, not just lyrically, but melodically. I wanted to challenge myself to do things that I hadn't done, & I hope I'll always do that. It's part of keeping yourself alive when it comes to creative things. So I knew that before I ever wrote anything for this record, & it kinda happened that after I had my group of songs I knew that, production-wise, it came natural that I would take a different direction there as well. A lot of songs also--just the concept & feel of them, I don't know--it just didn't sound like an acoustic recored to me.

J. Some of those songs sound pretty mainstream country.

I. The production on some of them is pretty mainstream country, but mainstream country doesn't think so [laughs]. But the ironic part is some of the songs that instrumentally & production-wise are mainstream country are the most lyrically un-mainstream country. And we knew that. So like "Letter To Mom," melodically & instrumentally it's straight-ahead radio country, but I knew it didn't have half a chance because of the subject matter. So, it's always something with me [laughs]. I don't even think about it because I expect that.

J. I've been really struck by the fact that your music seems to be haunted by various ghosts. Your dad's, surely, but also the dead of Vietnam, the spirits of childhood memories that rush through the hills of the past, a town on which the sun has set--& your often plaintive voice really seems tp provide an atmosphere in which these ghosts can feel at home.

I. That's interesting, & that's actually true, now that you mention it. I don't know that I can explain it. It could just be a variety of things, partly this personality I was born with. But I think it might be safe to say that part of that comes a lot from my dad when I was growing up. I grew up in southern California, & my dad had come from this island in Arkansas--actually in the middle of a river that ran between Arkansas & Missouri. The whole time I was growing up, I had this sense of this place where we came from, & my dad really longing for this place & missing it a whole awful lot. I mean, he left there when he was like 45, & he was born & raised there. It's a very isolated place; there was nobody there but his family. While I grew up, I tried to identify & be close to this person who had this real sense or aura about him of missing something from the past, & so I consequently ended up feeling very connected to this place that I didn't grow up in because of the stories he'd tell, the emotion that went with it. I always had a sense that that place I never saw was my home--that's where I came from. So maybe that's why, in a lot of my songs, I have that sense of being connected to these things that are dead & gone, but they're not dead & gone on the inside of people. Maybe that's it. I don't really know [laughs]. Maybe without all that I would still act this way.

J. You were originally signed by Rounder Records, but then Warner Brothers quickly signed you & re-released Infamous Angel. So, it's kinda unlike a lot of the artists who do what you do, making music the companies seem to have a hard time categorizing for marketing purposes, your having been on a major label for most of your career. Do you feel, in any way, that being with a big label has hindered your creative control?

I. It hasn't The thing that a lot of people don't realize is that, small or large, they can interfere with your creative control, & a lot of other things as well. So, as much as that is the view of a lot of people, that actually isn't accurate at all. I know people on small labels who have had big struggles with little labels. I haven't had that problem with Warner Brothers at all. I've had every bit as much control as I had when I was at Rounder, & in a way I've had more in that I have a bigger budget, so I feel a little freer to try things I couldn't try there. But I'm well aware of the fact that they could wake up tomorrow & say, "Iris, you can't do what you want to do anymore." At which time I would leave. I just can't see myself taking my music & letting somebody else put their stamp on it. I'd just rather die--I really would. So far they've stayed out of the way. They've heard my records when they were completely finished, like eveyone else.

J. You've been through several management shifts lately, from California-based Peter Asher Management to a Nashville-based company, & now your husband, Elmer McCall, is your manager. Why the shifts, & how has it been working so closely with your husband in this way?

I. Well, I guess the best way to explain it is I'm very hands-on with my music, & I don't see my music as seperate from me. A lot of people who do this approach it as a career, like a business career, & I want you to advance this career. But I don't see it like that. It's ME. There is no seperation between me & this so-called career. There is no line, & I've found that, working with managers--honestly, I haven't found anybody that I feel--it puts a lot of demands on the people I work with, & they're probably, in a lot of ways, impossible demands. So it's kinda wound up that I work with Elmer. I think one of the reasons is that we live together, & he knows me better than anybody else. That's only been about a month, & who knows? But so far it's actually cut down on a lot of the stress. There's not a lot of going back & forth & arguing; he knows. We're sitting right there in the house, & he can just turn around & ask me. Also there's the element of trust, so I'm hoping it works.

J. What was it like touring & working with Nanci Griffith?

I. She's great. I went out with her for six weeks in, I guess, 1993; I opened her American tour for Other Voices, Other Rooms. She was just really nice to me. She helped me a lot; I'm sure there are a lot of people who know of me as a result of those shows.

J. If I asked you to name three artists who your fans might be surprised to hear you enjoy, who would they be?

I. Surprised?

J. Yeah, no Black Sabbath or anything in your closet?

I. NO [laughs]. You know, I like the Allman Brothers, & I don't know, I like Tom Petty; maybe they'd be surprised at that. The Wallflowers? I don't know if those things would be surprising; I mean they're not country records.

J. Let me throw out some names & have you comment on them.

I. Okay.

J. Townes Van Zandt.

I. A huge talent, a big loss. I'm a great admirer of his. Some great songs on his last record, by the way. Pat [Breen], my drummer, played on that record.

J. Neil Young.

I. Sure, I haven't followed him since high school, but I keep running into other musicians who are raving about things he's doing nowadays, so I need to go out & get his records.

J. How about someone like Jewel?

I. [Laughs]. Well, you know, I heard a Jewel song the other day on the radio that I really liked. "You Were Meant For Me" or something like that. I really liked it. I thought there were some really good lyrics in there. I liked the song, & I'm usually very resistant to most of that kinda radio- friendly stuff.

J. I've seen you in concert a couple of times now, & I've noticed you sometimes seem a bit nervous & tentative on stage. I think a lot of your fans find this really endearing, but how do you feel about performing?

I. I'm always nervous, & I keep thinking that someday I'll just be able to casually go on, but it hasn't happened yet. There are nights that anxiety level goes down a little, but I don't know. It's kinda embarrassing, because I feel that sometimes I've got to talk about it, & I feel that people are gonna get tired of hearing it, but it doesn't seem to go away. And at times it's gotten so bad that I've thought about quitting because, the fact is, it does take a certain amount of energy [laughs] out of you, walking up there & worrying & stuff. But at the same time, I enjoy performing, so it's kind of a good & evil thing.

J. I would think that you feed off your fans. They seem to love you.

I. Oh, I do. In fact, I have a really hard time when the crowd isn't the type of crowd that will respond; I just almost sink because I rely on that very much. It's like having a conversation with you; if I'm not getting it back, I just can't hardly do it, which is [laughs] unfortunate, but it's the way it is.

J. What do you do to relax?

I. I play music [laughs]. I read a little bit, & I like cleaning the house; cleaning the house is very relaxing to me. People laugh at that, but when you're on the road a lot, coming home & mopping the floors is as good as it gets [laughs]. You can see the dirt coming up, & I just get into the rhythm, & I like doing that.

J. Your music often defends what I guess we could call "humanist family values." Heve you & Elmer thought about a family? You come from a family of 14 kids.

I. We think a lot about a family. My husband has two grown children, so I've never actually had the parent kind of experience. Because I'm so involved in what I do, I hate the idea of having a child & not being able to really be a good parent. Elmer, on the other hand, is like, "stick 'em in the car, man, & we'll just go" [laughs].