“How the fuck are we going to turn this into a song?” That’s the question Lou Barlow and John Davis have asked themselves since co-founding the Folk Implosion in the early 1990s. Beginning with improvised jams featuring Barlow on bass and Davis on drums, the duo develop their beat-driven pop collages from the ground up. It’s the process they used on their debut cassette, Walk Through This World with the Folk Implosion, and one they’ve returned to 30 years later on their spellbinding, self-referencing reunion, Walk Thru Me.
Separated from their homes in Massachusetts and North Carolina, Barlow and Davis collaborated remotely, flashing back to their early friendship as penpals. A sweaty bass and drums session went down in Barlow’s attic, before they booked studio time with producer Scott Salter (St. Vincent, Spoon, The Mountain Goats).
Contrasts and comparisons are the keys to unlocking Walk Thru Me, and the Folk Implosion as a whole. Beyond the audible differences between Barlow’s soft voice and Davis’s urgent, reedy proclamations, their approaches to songwriting are strikingly distinct. While Barlow approached his lyrics from a protective paternal perspective (“My Little Lamb”), Davis paid tribute to his late father, shining a light on their complicated...
“How the fuck are we going to turn this into a song?” That’s the question Lou Barlow and John Davis have asked themselves since co-founding the Folk Implosion in the early 1990s. Beginning with improvised jams featuring Barlow on bass and Davis on drums, the duo develop their beat-driven pop collages from the ground up. It’s the process they used on their debut cassette, Walk Through This World with the Folk Implosion, and one they’ve returned to 30 years later on their spellbinding, self-referencing reunion, Walk Thru Me.
Separated from their homes in Massachusetts and North Carolina, Barlow and Davis collaborated remotely, flashing back to their early friendship as penpals. A sweaty bass and drums session went down in Barlow’s attic, before they booked studio time with producer Scott Salter (St. Vincent, Spoon, The Mountain Goats).
Contrasts and comparisons are the keys to unlocking Walk Thru Me, and the Folk Implosion as a whole. Beyond the audible differences between Barlow’s soft voice and Davis’s urgent, reedy proclamations, their approaches to songwriting are strikingly distinct. While Barlow approached his lyrics from a protective paternal perspective (“My Little Lamb”), Davis paid tribute to his late father, shining a light on their complicated relationship (“The Day You Died”).
Finally, Davis’s Persian music studies in weekly Zoom lessons inspired him
to integrate traditional Middle Eastern instruments such as the setar,
oud, saz, and tombak.
“Because we’re so separate, part of this album is me desperately trying to telepathically communicate to John and Scott, who are 700 miles away from me,” Barlow concludes. “A big part of what I consider to be the Folk Implosion is taking disparate things and turning them into pop.”
“Moonlit Kind”
“Moonlit Kind” is the Folk Implosion’s bobbing, shimmering ode to night owls.
Offering a glimpse into the mind of Barlow, who depicts himself as a bear
“coming out of the cave,” the song describes his emotional waxes and wanes.
Whether touching the sky or going low, he never unwinds… but always believes.
With Middle Eastern instruments such as the setar, oud, saz, and tombak, Davis
and producer Scott Solter (St. Vincent, Spoon, The Mountain Goats) send the
song soaring, transforming Barlow’s words into nocturnal musical bliss.
“My Little Lamb/Bobblehead”
“My Little Lamb” is the Folk Implosion’s tough yet tender ode to parenthood. “That’s my first stab at articulating what it’s like being a dad,” Barlow explains. “I wanted it to include all of the light shit and all of the dark shit.” This flows into the infectiously catchy “Bobblehead.” Originally based on an intimate relationship where someone preferred to be propped up instead of listening to opposing perspectives, Davis rewrote the lyrics 15 years later to make them more broadly political. He describes the song as “Noam Chomsky’s Manufacturing Consent meets ‘Beautiful World’ by DEVO.”
