Navigating around his hometown Philly streets with uncanny sonar, Kurt Vile dodges parking tickets as he makes renegade stops for quick-trip shopping adventures. It’s a snapshot of a day in the life of the exuberant family man/rocker as he ricochets around town doing errands in the music video for “Loading Zones,” the rambunctious opener of Vile’s eclectic and freewheeling latest album, Bottle It In.
Now 39 years old with two young daughters and seven solo albums under his belt, Vile says the basis of the video was definitely autobiographical.
“It’s something I do,” he says. “I definitely came up with the concept — driving around in a goofy mood and getting things done. Mainly, there’s a loading zone across from (Philadelphia record shop) a.k.a. music that no longer exists, but that was an easy (spot) to park and run in, get your packages and get the hell out of there.”
Headlong motion — a hit-and-run approach — has become a guiding ethos for Vile, especially over his last three records, including his 2017 duo release with Courtney Barnett, Lotta Sea Lice. Vile conceives his music often while on tour and records it in various studios on the road; he did Bottle It In with producers Shawn Everett and Rob Schnapf in Los Angeles and Peter Katis in Bridgeport, Connecticut.
From his early roots in Philadelphia when he would pass out CD-Rs of his music at clubs (collected for his 2008 debut, Constant Hitmaker) to playing with his buddy Adam Granduciel’s band War on Drugs to his breakthrough album on Matador Records, 2011’s Smoke Ring for My Halo, Vile’s singular blend of psychedelic-tinged Folk Rock and poetic, quirky lyricism offers a heady brew of sweet dissonance, wit and cosmic musing.
Vile’s jeans-and-flannel roadie look and laid-back persona belie his restless ambition.
“Subliminally, I knew I was going to go for it, no matter what,” Vile says of his intent going into recording Bottle It In. “I would say the last record, b’lieve i’m goin down, was kind of similar because I didn’t have a set producer for that one either. We just started from scratch with the band, you know? I really think this record is an extension of that, except we had more time in between. I definitely wanted to make some kind of statement, but I kind of always do. I always picture my records epic in their own way.”
With three 10-minute tracks on Bottle It In, Vile is back to swinging his marathon grooves after stripping down his music on his last few records. He loves to collaborate; for instance, Mary Lattimore plays harp on the standout title track, a melancholy, slow throb twilight-lit by keyboards and dusky vocals that loop for more than 10 minutes. Another distinctive long-player, the playful “Bassackwards,” unspools like a stoned, stream-of-conscious amble down the beach as memories flicker and guitars squall like seagulls in the sun.
Vile says he didn’t choose his latest album’s title as any sort of thematic motto, but more to bring attention to one of the newer songs he loved the most.
“I didn’t want ‘Bottle It In’ to get overlooked,” Vile says of the album’s longest track. “That’s definitely the most epic (song), though it’s sort of an understated epic. It captures the whole era of making that record for me. So that’s a big reason (for the album title) — I didn’t want the song to go unnoticed (and not to) try to make an overall argument about keeping your feelings in.”
“Otherwise, it would be like, ‘Oh, there’s a 10-minute, minimal orchestral song that went by, that’s a weird one,’ ” he adds. “It’s an important song for me.”
To escape the anxieties of plane travel while touring, Vile would listen to Country music and bliss out in twang-fueled dreams, eight miles high. His love for the genre started at an early age, and it spills over on Bottle It In with his shambling, irresistible cover of “Rollin’ with the Flow.” Vile takes the Countrypolitan style — the swelling strings and overly bright backup voices — out of Charlie Rich’s 1977 version and improves on it with a stark yearning vocal, almost making it a statement on his own career with its defiant, rolling-with-the-punches vibe. Elsewhere, on songs like “Come Again,” Vile uses the banjo to punctuate bluesy lines with a droning slur.
“The banjo would definitely be described as my roots,” Vile says. “I love American Roots music, for sure. I grew up on Bluegrass and old Country with my dad, and then later Delta Blues — he turned me onto some of that and I took it even further on my own.
“But the last few years, I got more into American Country music. I grew up on the basics, like Johnny Cash and Hank Williams, through my dad, but somewhere along the way, I read that George Jones biography and it was all over then. I read like every Country book… once you start reading about the Country people, all the Rock books that you read make it seem like they’re a bunch of posers.”
Besides Lattimore’s harp additions, other signs of the inspiration Vile derives from collaboration can be heard in contributions from artists like Sonic Youth’s Kim Gordon, Warpaint’s Stella Mozgawa, singer/songwriter Cass McCombs and ace pedal-steel session player Farmer Dave Scher. A different kind of inspiration was behind the lyrics of “Cold Was the Wind,” a wry, woozy blues in which Vile riffs on one of America’s favorite pastimes. Vile offers baseball poetry on the song, singing, “Christmas in Siberia with a little bitty case of the delirium tremens/For some reason, picture Roger Clemens/But Mike Schmidt’s more of the city I came with/Crossed my heart and hope to die.”
Assuming he’s a baseball junkie — and with the reference to Schmidt, a Philadelphia Phillies great— I jokingly mention a certain Cincinnati baseball hero who was also once a Phillie. But Vile sets me straight, clarifying that he isn’t actually a huge fan of the sport. Turns out, the name-checks are more a sign of his sense of humor.
“No, that’s kind of a joke,” he says the song references. “I mean, I would collect baseball cards in the late ’80s, and my next door neighbor who was my best friend, he was the big baseball fan. I just liked to pretend that I was. I interject jokes when people are talking about sports — I’ll mention literally random retired baseball players. Roger Clemens and Mike Schmidt are (just) from Boston and Philly, and I’ve lived in both cities.”
“But,” he confesses, “I definitely have some Pete Rose cards.”
Kurt Vile and The Violators perform Wednesday, Feb. 20 at Taft Theatre with guests The Sadies. Tickets/more show info: tafttheatre.org.
