Kasey Anderson has had a pretty epic rock’n’roll story — with all the highs and the lowest lows that come with it. His refusal to given in to all the reasons why he shouldn’t continue or what make his work all the more intriguing, and I’m happy to say that we’ve become friends over the past few years. And, at a certain point, you have to ask when it’s time to quit while you’re ahead. Anderson’s To the Places We Lived, initially released last year, is an unflinching and tender ode to the person he once was, and becoming the person we all wish to be. With a vinyl release coming out this month, Anderson and I spoke about what it means to semi-retire, and how he went about making his last major project.
This is your last album, at least for now…what made it feel like the right time to retire?
I had a kind of bizarre, unexpected career renaissance because that song “The Dangerous Ones,” from the Hawks and Doves album (From a White Hotel, 2018) went viral during the 2020 election cycle. There were some things I didn’t/don’t love about that but it did afford me a lot of opportunities I’m very grateful for; it gave me a kind of second career. Knowing there was once again an audience that was paying attention and might be receptive to new work from me, and knowing that there was still to some degree a separate audience that had a familiarity with my older records caused me to consider what I might have left to say to either or both of those groups. What I settled on was a kind of “answer to,” or continuation of Nowhere Nights, the album of mine people seem to be most familiar with.
When I got into the writing of the songs that would make up To the Places We Lived, it started to feel very much to me like the end of a conversation that I’d been having with the people who were generous enough to listen, over the last twenty years or so. It felt like a kind of goodbye, and so I wrote into that. So there’s that aspect of it, creatively, which coincided with my being fortunate to have a job that pays the bills, and a family I want to spend time with, and knowing I didn’t really want to tour, or do a bunch of press, or operate within the confines of whatever one might call The Music Industry. I just have no interest in doing that whatsoever.
I’m very lucky and privileged to be able to decide how and when I want to do things in this area of my life (music), and so there’s no reason for me to do anything I don’t want to. I don’t have any ambition to be where I was in 2011-2012, career-wise, so I can be selective about the things I choose to do. I’ll probably still write songs. I’ll probably still record music. I’ve done both since the release of To the Places We Lived. I just don’t feel any pressure or desire to release another album in the way I have in the past, in the way people are expected to within the context of that particular industry.
To The Places We Lived feels like a celebration of your career, but also a reckoning. How has it felt to look back at everything up to this point?
For me, it was important to involve as many friends and past collaborators in the process of making this album as was possible. So that aspect of it was extremely rewarding and fulfilling, seeing friends again and being able to rekindle those creative bonds. Personally, and in terms of what I’ve written, I’ve been in a state of perpetual reckoning — with myself, with the relationships, with my communities, with the world — for a long time now. That’s kind of always how I’ve written and what I’ve written about. I’ve just been more clear-eyed and clear-headed in doing so for the last decade. If I look back at Heart of a Dog or Let the Bloody Moon Rise, there’s a lot of autobiographical stuff on those records, I just didn’t recognize it as such at the time. So, for me, the ongoing process of reflection, or reckoning, or whatever you want to call it, has been a largely positive one, especially in recovery.
You also use some electronic elements in the album in some unexpected places. Knowing that this would be your last album, what mindset did you have going into the studio?
My mindset in the studio this time around was to involve as many of my friends as I could. Most of the record was tracked live at Jackpot! in Portland but then the process halted when my dad passed, and then we were all isolated during COVID so a lot of the secondary work on the album was done remotely, but still very much in the spirit of involving as many friends as I could to whatever extent was possible. In terms of arrangement and instrumentation, the recording process has always been very collaborative for me. Best idea wins, that’s really the guiding principle. Whatever works best in service of the song and the recording. Sometimes that’s an acoustic guitar and piano, sometimes it’s a three-guitar rock n roll band, sometimes it’s elements that fall outside of what one might expect from an “Americana” record, though I have never really known or understood what Americana is supposed to be or mean. I guess that makes it easier for me to pay little to no attention to the conventions of the genre, because I don’t operate within that genre, really. I don’t care to.
How’s it been to tour on the album?
The shows have been great. My rule for gigs now is either I have to share a bill with a friend or I have to play somewhere I know I’ll get to spend time with friends. The few gigs I played in 2024 met that criteria and the few I have lined up for 2025 do too, so far. I’m not playing huge rooms but the gigs were full, people seemed really engaged and enthusiastic. At this point in my life/career I can’t really ask for much more.
What’s next for you — musically and otherwise?
Musically the vinyl and CD release of Places is right around the corner (February 14), so I’m looking forward to that. Doing a couple shows with Lizzie No, who has become one of my closest friends, and I haven’t seen Lizzie and their band in a while, so that’ll be a wonderful little reunion of sorts. I did some recording with Eric Ambel last summer, have some more tentatively planned with Kurt Bloch for later this year, so we’ll see what comes of all that.
Outside of music I’m just trying to keep my head up and eyes forward, and be present for the people around me. The conditions of the world are extremely conducive to cynicism, rage and despair and so I’m fighting that internally daily, as I assume most folks are, while trying to be in solidarity with people whose lives are very much in danger, in any and every way that I can. It’s a time and a world of intersecting apocalypses, of unprecedented interpersonal cruelty. Just surviving that, and doing what I can to help others survive, is the primary project of most of my waking life these days.