Anti-Folk Artist Adam Brodsky Returns With ‘American Epitaph’

Q&A

After 20 years on the shelf, local satirical singer-songwriter Adam Brodsky has dusted off himself and his guitar to make a new record about the crappiness of the modern world. Often the target is Trump (“that bloated gloating dipshit”), but Nazis, anti-vaxxers, laissez-faire bystanders, etc. also take hits on his brand-new American Epitaph. “I used to wonder how the Germans let it happen. Let’s just say, I don’t wonder anymore,” he sings on “Don’t Break Bread.”

Brodsky — still in the Guinness Book of World Records for playing 50 solo shows in 50 days in 50 states — hails from a half-forgotten subgenre of acoustic punk called anti-folk. Its adherents includes the Moldy Peaches, Jeffrey Lewis, Lach, and more. Beck, Ani DiFranco, and Regina Spektor have their toes in the scene as well.

“At one time, the sun never set on the anti-folk empire,” says Brodsky. “And now we exist in a little corner of our world. You can hear our roots. In the same way that you can find Neanderthal DNA in us today, you can find anti-folk in a lot of songs you hear.”

Growing up in Warminster, he thought he invented the “folk-punk thing”; then he found some likeminded players, mostly in New York City. “I found my tribe,” he recalls. “I’m sort of locked in, man. I can occasionally play a couple bluegrass songs, but I can’t be a bluegrass musician. I can be an anti-folk musician. That is the only door open to me. I do what I do. We’re still out there, we’re small.”

Brodsky had just gotten home from walking his dog Queequeg when I spoke to him last week.

You have a dog named Queequeg?
You know, because he sleeps with me.

So it’s not an X-Files reference?
You know, I get a lot of street cred for the X-Files reference, but [Moby Dick] is my favorite novel. But I seldom evangelize on it, because it is a slog.

It is, but it’s also pretty funny.
It’s hilarious. Something I often tell people, because they complain about how many times they re-started it, is pick one chapter at random and just read it through the poetry of the prose, man. … I also try and remind them: Remember this was written before there was TV and radio. People didn’t have shit to do all day [besides] talk about whale skeletons for four hours.

Listening to this record, it sounds like you’ve got a lot of current events on your mind.
Yeah, I mean I have a phone, just like everybody. The fascism, what are you gonna do?

The first few songs especially are just really like hammering the, uh, modern situation. Where are you coming from now — anger, acceptance?
It’s important to me not to get to acceptance, you know, despite that’s the stage that you’re supposed to end up at. You can hear some of the songs, even though I’m not sure that we’re gonna win, it doesn’t mean we quit.

This is your first record in 20 years.
Is it?

What’s the reason for the hiatus?
You know, I got a little burnt out. Before, I was playing 250 dates [per year], around the turn of the century, and it was exhausting. And making, not a good living, but you know, getting by. But it just, it just seemed to be futile, spinning my wheels. I was getting old, and so I cut back. I started to [only] play some play gigs for fun, you know, or gigs that were important. Driving all the way across the country, that’s a young man’s game. It’s a nice piece of my past. I got the Guinness World Record for doing it to an anorexic extreme, man.

That record — 50 shows in 50 states in 50 days — is insane. Do you think you could do that now?
And obviously on the 51st I played DC…. I probably could. I mean, I could push myself through. It’d be a lot harder and a lot more expensive because I would just stay in a lot more hotels versus sleeping in the van like I used to. But when you think about it, I had to work one hour a day, and then I had 23 hours to sleep and drive to the next show. It was exhausting, but it was manageable and doable.

Everybody says touring is the hardest part.
I believe it was Vance Gilbert that said, “I play the shows for free, you all pay me to drive.”

What is it about this moment that has brought you back to making music?
The thing I do best in this world is write folk songs. You know, you read about how to defeat fascism, and there’s a bunch of groups of people — you need organizers, and you need money people, and you need marchers, and all of these various people. And at the bottom you need artists and musicians, especially those who are familiar with satire. I was like, “Well, here I am sitting on the couch, I have just been called, I’ve just been drafted.” I had a few of these songs, but Jesse Lundy and Butch Ross are the two people who are most integral in this album existing, possibly more than myself, because these two guys dragged me over the finish line.

Was there a particular headline that got you off the couch?
You hardly have to write punch lines. You really just say what he said and make it rhyme. It’s calling to the carpet the people who know better and are not doing anything — to me that’s the angriest part. I mean, the red hats are the red hats, and Emperor Dipshit is Emperor Dipshit, but the elected Republicans who know better — those are the people who should be twisting in the wind.

What’s the emotional inspiration for these funny/tragic songs?
People say comedy equals tragedy plus time. It’s sort of my life’s mission to disabuse you of that. “Comedy equals tragedy plus 18 inches” is what I like to say. As long as it didn’t happen in my personal space, it’s hilarious. I think, honestly, just because things are horrible does not mean they aren’t kind of funny at the same time.

Protest singing is annoying, if you can make it a little bit funny sometimes, you even slip it past the people, they’re like, that’s so funny, and then they think later. That is absolutely part of the goal. And these motherfuckers don’t like being made fun of, and they are so ripe for satire. What am I going to do?

Have you grown as a songwriter?
When I was a young songwriter in my 20s, I would write songs that were just funny, you know, turning the genre on its head. Calling a woman the B word in a song … that’s where I’m cutting my teeth and everything. But I don’t know that I would write just a silly song 1781233208 other than around a campfire to just to amuse people. If I write something it’s got to be worth your time. It’s got to be worth your three minutes, which is a long time these days.

“Birthday Cake” is very sad — I don’t know if you want to talk about where that came from.
It started off as a poem to my sister. She died in 2014 and usually on her birthday I say something on her Facebook page, and one year I wrote this poem. And then I realized that it was only really a poem because the guitar was way across the room. So I was like, I bet I could sing this if I strummed a G chord, and I did. And Butch, when he was rolling through town, he said, “Drink some coffee, because we’re finishing your record today.” And he said this song has to be on the record. I was like, “Really?” He’s like, “Yeah, it’s got all the things.” “But it’s just a little poem I wrote for my sister. And number two, sometimes I cry when I sing it.” He’s like, “Well, we’ll deal with that part later, but we’re putting it on the record.” And then we put it on the record, and I gave it to my promoter, and he came back with it as one of the singles …. I love that people are impacted by it, but it’s a bit of a surprise to me, because it was a personal thing between me and my dead sister.

Jon Lovitz catches some strays in that song.
It’s just so representative of the disappointment, so many people you just assumed were the good guys. How can you not be on this side? And then you find out that they’re not, you’re like, what happened? How did your brain break?

It’s weird that so many comedians from the Reagan ’80s became conservative: Dennis Miller, Victoria Jackson, Tim Allen …
You know what happens with Boomers, they hold on. And they still think the world is like the ’80s.

What are people gonna say about Gen X?
We had such promise, but just like every other fucking generation we elected too many fucking Republicans.

True.
They say “Don’t worry, Z and the Alphas are gonna save us. They’re okay.” The same fucking thing’s gonna happen. They’re gonna make a little money and get scared by the news, and they’re gonna vote for fascism.

Adam Brodsky celebrates the release of American Epitaph June 14th at Fallser Club, 3761 Midvale Avenue.