Like innocent childhood wonder, inspiration is typically fleeting, sometimes fading before we’ve reaped its benefits. Unless you’re The Presidents of the United States of America’s Chris Ballew, whose abundance of both has given the rock star a parallel career as locally beloved “kindiependent” artist Caspar Babypants.
This month, Ballew will have self-released six full-length Babypants albums since 2009—all while doing his own production, PR, booking, and sales. And the creative fountain of youth he’s tapped shows no signs of drying. He has a seventh album planned for September 2013, and as he recently told me, “literally hundreds of songs waiting in the wings.”
Clearly, Ballew’s kid’s-eye view of the world has struck a chord. Children dig his music because it’s simple, has danceable rhythm, and its subject matter—birds, bugs, babies, everyday inanimate objects—mirrors their own budding fascinations. Parents love it for the joy it brings their kids and the happy family sing-alongs it almost literally demands. (This dad’s favorite song? “Bad Blue Jay.” There’s magic in it, and in many others.) His tunes are infectious, but not cloying or pandering—the downfall of a lot of kid’s music.
Bonus for Gen X parents: Ballew usually has one or more of his local contemporaries guest on his records. Krist Novoselic (Nirvana), Stone Gossard (Pearl Jam), Rachel Flotard (Visqueen), and others have contributed to his work. Mudhoney guitarist Steve Turner’s signature rawness can be heard on the latest album, I Found You!, out December 18.
All this explains why Ballew’s alter ego might play a packed Seattle library and a crowded Vashon elementary school gym on any given day. Why he’s got gigs—including an in-store at West Seattle’s Easy Street Records Tuesday—booked through next May. And why he’s developing a TV show. Demand is high. Wondering how the father of two can possibly keep up, I called Ballew to ask. Not surprisingly, he was “working on some music” when he picked up.
How are you maintaining such a prolific pace?
I’m inspired. I’m having my mid-life Picasso phase. It’s something I’ve always dreamed about, having this clarity of vision. I know what I’m doing, what I want it to sound like, who I’m singing for, and I know the music has a purpose. It’s about helping families reduce stress and stay together. Smoothing out the bumps for young parents. I hate the idea of any of [my songs] not seeing the light of day. I’m just trying to get them all out.
Do you write with your kids around, or in peace and quiet?
My kids aren’t around—they’re 15 and 12, so they’re beyond this music. But I have a notebook of a lot of songs that I’m interested in finishing. I might take it to the park, or sit in the backyard, or go to a coffee shop. Lately what I’ve been doing is really staring at a song. I might spend two hours at a coffee shop staring at one song and get deep into what it’s about, what the core is, and decide if the lyrics I have are serving that core or not.
Has your creative process changed since the first album?
It’s pretty similar, really. It’s a combination of old songs I’m rewriting, new songs that come out of my head, and new songs Kate, my wife, will [trigger]—she’s my Ringo Starr. He’d walk into a room and say, “It’s a hard day’s night,” and it was a song. Or “Tomorrow never comes,” and it was a song. She’ll walk through and say something amazing and I’ll turn it into a song. And then there’s also me tapping into old songs of mine that were thematically totally not kid’s music—I’m stripping the lyrics out and reinventing them. Those approaches were around when I started out, and they’re still around.
Your wife does the album artwork too, right?
The real seed of all of this is her artwork. With the Presidents, I kept thinking, This is great, I’m successful, but this is not my voice. Something is missing or wrong. Turns out there was irony and innuendo that I was not comfortable with. I got rid of that, realized I wanted to make innocent music, but didn’t know who I wanted to do it for or why. And then I saw Kate’s art and said, “That’s it. I want to make music that sounds like that looks.” I realized it was kid’s music. Kate is integral to that. Having her do the album covers is a no-brainer. Her art and my music are completely interlocked. It’s a great thing to be able to have that creative relationship with my wife. It’s a dream come true.
Are you fascinated by birds and bugs and bears? Or is that all kids’ stuff?
Oh, that’s me. The Presidents have that—little animals and bugs, surreal situations. Spiders riding dune buggies. It has that layer of innuendo and irony in it, and I just started to get rid of that. It still has this glowing core, I just got rid of the coolness. [Laughs] I’m childlike, so I connect with kids, but I never sit down and say, “What would a kid like to hear?” I start with making myself smile and my brain kind of lighting up. A vision or an image or wordplay, and then I just enjoy it in the same way a child would, pushing around words. And as I’m pleasing myself, I’m also pleasing parents. I’ve started toying around with rebranding myself as the world’s first “parent’s musician.” [Laughs] I’ve never actually sold a CD to a child.
[In Part Two of Clint’s interview posting tomorrow, Chris/Caspar discusses covering the Beatles, playing for children, and the Seattle rock all-stars who’ve appeared on his Caspar Babypants recordings. Stay tuned.]