Cass McCombs: Giver of Life, Destroyer of Art

In the phylum of songwriters, Cass McCombs is a traditional folk artist. However, he appraises and perceives the world with some kind of impartiality that feels completely modern if not a little prophetic at times.

It's often mentioned in articles like these that the NoCal native is known for being a vagabond, a recluse and an intellectual. Some may perceive him as a mysterious eccentric who denounces fame and loves word play with a subtle wit requiring multiple exposures to a song.

As McCombs sees it, though, anyone's guess is as good as his.

College Times: Last year was pretty prolific for you. When were Wit's End and Humor Risk written? Are they related at all?

Cass McCombs:Well, they were made kind of in different times. I actually think [Wit's End is] more closely related to [2009's] Catacombs than Humor Risk. […] Humor Risk kind of just happened really spontaneously. It kind of all came together last year just really quickly.

Like a sudden rush of inspiration?

I had a bunch of songs knocking around. On tour, after we'd play, we'd go into the studio or something, a friend's studio, a free studio. […] For like a year it was kind of coming together, saying it was a record. It might have been singles or it might have been b-sides or whatever. We weren't really spending money making it, so we could have just gone on like that forever. It kind of made sense to be a record at some point. So, we asked the record company for some money to finish it and mix it and it just happened in the summertime of last year.

What do you mean it just made sense for Humor Risk to be a record?

At some point they just felt strong enough. You can only tell how strong a song is once you've actually performed them.[…] Recently, we've been playing a bunch of new songs. A couple of them, friends pointed out, "that's the jam," and they don't even know the titles yet. I listen to that. But, more importantly, as musicians, we instinctively know as you're performing it, "Oh this is good." You're not fighting it. Songs are just coming alive in front of you. It has the will to live.

This next question is a little more open-ended: What's a quality or value you need to have in your life in order to feel fulfilled?

Well, I only know how it feels to be unfulfilled. I'm the last person you should ask, you know? You could say some people all have the same vices and problems but I think I have more problems, you know? I don't know. […] I try to keep a mystical view and maintain contact with my spiritual self, but I'm no guru. […] If there's anything to keep my interest, it would just be something musical. But music is a perspective. There's music everywhere. Everything exists in a certain vibration if you want to get really mystical about it. Music is the way.

Let's talk a bit about Albert Herter. He did the art for Humor Risk and directed the video for "The Same Thing." How did that collaboration begin?

I wouldn't say we're two peas in a pod. We're different crab apples on the ground rotting, but we met through friends and pretty instantaneously hit it off – just as friends, having a good time, traveling together. It's not that common you meet people that share the same sense of a rejoicing attitude.

Was the work he did on the liner notes of Humor Risk done specifically for the album?

That was just, like, around. He's one of my best friends and he's very aware of everything I'm doing as I am of what he's doing. We just share everything. […] We've been working together for years. He's done all my art for the last four records or something. […] He's the eyes of the operation.

There was a board game created to go along with Dropping the Writ. Why was that more appropriate for that album than the subsequent ones?

Oh. That was just some fun experiment just to make something conceptually crazy, you know? To come up with a whole board game and the rules and then we tested it out with people. We just gave them the rules and the board and waited around to see if they would play it right, if the instructions made any sense. They're not that clear. I don't know if you read them …

I tried.

[Laughs] It's kind abstract. It was just a joke. […] I've seen people play it independently of my advice or anything. Maybe Parker Brothers with pick it up one of these days.

I feel [legacy] is a common motif in a lot of your work, the sense of needing to create something that'll last longer than life.

I think it's something to recognize. I don't know if I think of that too often. I'm pretty much concerned with the day-to-day. Just the ‘how,' you know? How do I design this thing? How do I make what's in my mind? It's hard not to understand that we all leave footprints among people. But on the other hand, I think a great artist should be able to destroy his work – especially if it's crummy work. The world doesn't need any more work than isn't absolutely necessary.

Do you think destroying art holds true to your process? To destroy to create?

[Sighs] I mean that's kind of a loaded word, destruction. I think it's important to destroy sometimes because there's so much out there. We only have enough attention for so much. You can't read every book ever written, it's impossible. We're not androids yet. I think it's important to only give your attention and only create things that are absolutely necessary. If something seems unnecessary, then it should be destroyed I think