On Friday, Mipso will release its fourth album, Edges Run, and it pushes the boundaries for the band while maintaining everything they do really well. It’s honest and includes lines that ask you to listen closely. The instrumentation is rich, while still convincing you that it’s simple. We got to talk with Jacob Sharp, who sings and plays mandolin and guitar in the band, about this record and the landscape it was created in, the value for a band in continuing to make albums, and the necessity of making art that goes after the truth.

RLR: This album feels like it’s about coming to terms and taking stock–how did you think about the songs as they developed and how they were echoing off each other?

I’m happy that was what rang true for you; that’s definitely where we were coming from. We made two albums in quick succession: we recorded Coming Down The Mountain about three or four months before this one. We knew this one was coming quickly at us, and when we went in for that first session, we saved certain tunes for this record specifically. We wrote a couple others right afterward, but we started with thirty-plus tunes and made two records from them.

We didn’t see them as connected thematically or sonically–we wanted them to have separate lives. This one is a kind of settled, introspective record, taking stock of where we are individually and collectively. I think it’s the product of us having been a band for what feels like a long time now; we’re like 950 shows in together, over about five years. So we’ve kind of run a long road, so like any relationship, we were in that place of questioning why we were in this relationship together and what it meant and what was important about it.

Simultaneously, we were reflecting a lot about the November election; I think the final recording session was inauguration day. Those things were definitely looming and we were confused and angry, and had maybe larger implications to our doubts than we’d previously had. So to us, these tunes are that reckoning; not all of them, but most of them, and I think even the ones that have a sunnier disposition, if you got in deep with one of us about them, I think they’d show a dark undercurrent. There’s a part of it that was a luxury album to make, that we had the space and time to make two really different types of records, and we could indulge this one. And I think if we hadn’t made the previous record, which was a big step out for us, so confidently, we wouldn’t have been able to make this one.

RLR: In the description of this album, it says that you each brought sketches of songs to the studio and co-wrote for the first time, whereas before you might all weigh in on songs that you’d each written. How did that process compare to your earlier ways of working together?

We had done some co-writes previously, mainly just Joseph and myself, but not in a very substantial way, and I think we challenged each other as a group and a collective to be more involved in the individual process.

Todd Sickafoose, who produced the record, is one of our favorite musicians of all time, and he was kind of our dream producer. (We made a Venn diagram of all our favorite records, and the strongest overlap, from a production standpoint, were all Todd’s.) We had a less extensive personal relationship with him than some of our earlier producers, so we thought, maybe foolishly, but we thought that we should leave some of this unfinished. We were going to great lengths to make it possible–we flew across the country and the budget was a different thing for this record, and it was emotionally and physically a stretch in a bigger way too…so we thought, if we’re going to go to all these lengths, he needs to have his fingerprints all over it, so we did intentionally leave some holes in a way we hadn’t before.

We recorded it in January, 2017, and then we didn’t do anything with it for like four months. And then Coming Down the Mountain came out in April and we heard some mixes, but we basically left it off the table until we had some headspace after that first nationwide release tour for Coming Down the Mountain. Going back to them it felt like…I don’t know, it was like a kid who was an orphan that you see again when he’s an adolescent, and it was like, “Holy shit, what happened to you?”…not that I have done that, but, you know, I watch movies. It was a really hard album to make, but I’m glad we saw it through.

When we come to a recording session, we’ll all bring ideas, and for some songs, it’s just one line and for others it’s the fully fleshed out thing that you’ll hear on the record basically. And others are stitched together; on this album, there’s a couple songs that were originally three separate songs that became one.

It’s funny, because you see songs in such different stages. On this session, there are a couple of songs that I’d only heard once before we recorded it, and we recorded it in an afternoon and then I didn’t listen again for six months. There’s another song or two that I hadn’t heard before we played them in the main control room and then went in and cut it. And there were other band members who were having that experience on the other side. It was a really different way of establishing a relationship with these songs, and I think because of that, it was easier to flip the switch back to a different bunch of tunes than it otherwise would have been. And I think also because a lot of these songs are really personal, and some of them are really interpersonally challenging, it was kind of like we had our fight and then we decided to get back together on the next tour–and not to paint a picture that this was a crazy album to make, but there’s an element of that, that I think we needed those healthy balancing energies.

And that’s our world: we go from intense tours that are really fun and exhausting to isolated solo writing time; and in our case, every twelve months, you get into a studio for three weeks. And I think you have to figure out a way to balance between those [experiences] and in some way compartmentalize, even if they are emotionally transcendent and poignant in that exact moment.

RLR: You sing the lead on “People Change,” and a few things really strike me about that song. There is a ton of ambient instrumentation behind the vocal, which is really interesting; and I love the chorus, in part because it doesn’t rhyme. So can you talk about that song’s development on the record?

This one does stand out in a lot of ways, and it’s been the single for the album. And it’s been performing well, streaming-wise, and I kind of didn’t think it would be on the record, and none of us thought it would be the lead. Joseph, Libby, and I wrote it together, but it was pretty full formed formed when I brought it to them; it was just stuck, which is one of my songwriting burdens. As I think of it, I can find really cool little nuggets of melodic or lyrical phrases that get stuck in my head for a long time; but I have trouble surrounding them with similarly moving stuff. This one, I’d done a pretty good job of, but it just wasn’t there, so I brought it to Libby and Joe; we changed a couple lyrics and charged part of the chord progression ahead of the session. And when we got there, out to Eugene, it was the first song Todd wanted to record.

RLR: I’m so glad you mentioned the drums, because they’re so good on this album–so subtle and textured. Joseph and I talked before Coming Down the Mountain came out and he said that was your first time recording with a drum kit. Can you talk about how you’ve evolved as a band using percussion in your songs?

Well, Todd is an amazing arranger and composer, alongside being a great performing musician. We had been touring with Yan Westerlund, who’s an amazing drummer; for me, Yan’s the first drummer I’ve ever played with, and most people aren’t that lucky. We wanted to challenge ourselves to learn more about the role of percussion and the role a drummer in our band by playing with somebody else.

Shane is someone we’ve known for long time, and we knew him more on banjo, and he’s just one of the most musical people we’ve met. He’d long been in the back of our minds, thinking “That guy’s a great musician, it’d be cool to learn from him.” When we mentioned him to Todd, he said, “I was hoping you knew Shane, because he’s at the top of my list.” Shane is a great drummer who doesn’t play the obvious parts. He and Todd and Wood, our bass player, had a great running conversation about the role of the rhythm section with these songs. I think we wanted not the typical foundation that keeps energy in motion locked in or moving in new directions, and we wanted, similar to how we approach our other instruments, this to be a piece that challenges you and ties something together.

With that in mind, “People Change” is a funny one, because it’s almost as if there’s three separate drummers in the course of that song, after really different objectives, but together, it makes for a really compelling and challenging rhythm piece, in a good way. I hope that all these songs feel so familiar to you, but with each listen, you’re begged to wonder a bit more about why something happened the way it did.

RLR: I have really felt listening to this record that it rewards repeated listening.

We still want to make albums, and they’re are plenty of people who have worked with us who are advocating for a new way of music-making. And we so frequently spar with them, because what they’re really talking about is content creation and how they want more of it. And they want it to be optimized, and, for us, that’s not why we’re here and it’s not how we’re fulfilled as musicians. We feel like we have this great privilege and obligation to gather stories and tell them. For us, albums are still the form that makes the most sense.

RLR: Do you mean that people argue for just releasing singles?

Oh yeah, that’s a popular thing that people advocate for–for a young band, a building band, to release a single a month, instead of an album a year. I think it’s shortsighted, both in understanding the industry and how revenue streams become sustainable, and also in missing a crucial part of your musical education. And if you’re in a band with multiple writers, a crucial part of learning that compromise that makes great bands great: that they have to give to each other and understand how different takes and personalities complement one another and tell a stronger story. For us, that’s definitely the story of our band, and this record maybe especially. So I’m happy that it takes multiple listens with this record to get there, and that was intentional with the sequencing too–“Take Your Records Home” isn’t the thing that gets you radio placement as the lead song of a record, but we don’t care; we think it draws you in.

RLR: Right. And that’s a pretty different decision from “Hurts So Good,” the lead single from Coming Down the Mountain. Not better or worse, just different.

I think we made a lot of different decisions on these two albums, and I wouldn’t say they were in reaction to each other. They’re different songs, but you also have to understand the cultural moment we were in and that landscape. I want to make art that is influenced by its surroundings and challenges the people around it to move.

RLR: Some people argue that artists have an obligation to be overtly political. Where do you land on that?

I don’t like to say that artists have an obligation in any direction, other than to be true to themselves and where they’re at. But for our peers, and we’re so lucky that this is true of our musical community, people do have a strong social conscience. Inevitably, that’s a part of their lived experience and so it’s a part of their art too. And it’s a common thread for me and my bandmates too.

The second show we ever played was a week after my mom passed; it was fundraiser for the cancer treatment center she’d been at. Six months after that, Amendment 1 happened in North Carolina, and we did a string of shows across the state raising money for that cause; shortly after that was HB2. We’re an unlikely band, because none of us studied music, and none of us thought music was going to be a big part of our lives beyond being music fans and playing daily; none of us thought this was a career move. It became that because we were really well-supported by our communities and we realized that among the other stuff that nineteen and twenty year-olds care about, all those [causes] were about connecting with communities, learning their stories and connecting them. So, for us, it would feel unnatural to not speak up for stuff we believe in and to have that not influence our art. We get the very normal and very extreme versions of people that wish we talked less, or talked about things they understood to be their experience. It’s such a funny thing because people invest in our music because they like us as people and they want to hear our stories, and it’s wild to me that they think they can choose the parts of the story that we get to tell.

RLR: This has been great to catch up, Jacob, and I’m excited to see you up at the Green Mountain Bluegrass & Roots Festival this summer.

That is going to be a real hang. We met the Turpins when they were running a series of concerts in New Jersey. And our friends Mandolin Orange played that series before we did, and they called us and said, “Hey, the promoter’s going to ask you if you want to stay with them; you have to do it.” We did, and they’ve just become part of this beautiful road community we have and some of our deepest friends. They’re great musicians themselves and music lovers, and their whole thing is that the best hangs happen when bands are comfortable and have space together, so let’s make a festival that prioritizes that. Everybody on that lineup knows each other, so it’s going to be both a party on stage and off stage in the best way.  

OK, so there’s a lot for you to do. Get this album and listen to it repeatedly; be rewarded. Find a Mipso show near you; this is a damn fine live band–they are loose and fun and confident and you’ll have a good time. If you’re in New England, you should journey to Vermont in August and find them at the Green Mountain Bluegrass & Roots Festival. Be well.

photo credit: DL Anderson