Last autumn, Old Man of the Woods released their latest album Votives on Totally Real Records. We’d become familiar with Miranda Elliott’s songwriting through debut release Dissolve, an album of dream pop “often still and quiet, mournful in the way woods can be, but quietly powerful too.” Votives took this formula and built upon its vision. “The album develops the style introduced on Dissolve,” we wrote in a preview, “pushing beyond the natural world and into that of dreams, thereby inviting us further into Elliott’s distinctive imagination.” A collision of reality and unreality, or rather a disintegration of the boundary between the two.
To celebrate the release of the vinyl edition of the album, which you can get now from Bandcamp, we took the opportunity to ask Elliott some questions about the record. Read on below to find out more about the metaphors, mushrooms and mazes of conflicting emotions which make Votives what it is. During the conversation, Elliott declares her deep appreciation for the work of Adrienne Lenker, and we’re delighted to be able to share a special cover of Big Thief ‘Not’ alongside the interview.
Hi Miranda, thanks so much for speaking with us. Congratulations on Votives! How was the experience of putting out a full-length record?
Surreal! I’m still getting used to anyone listening to my music – it’s such a rush. I recently saw myself pop up in a handful of top artists during that frenzy of Spotify Wrapped sharing, and I know it’s a little silly, but I legitimately got teary. It’s so special to be able to connect with people in this way! I don’t take anyone’s ears or attention for granted, there’s so much to engage with. I just feel incredibly lucky for the way this has all played out – for you writing about my debut EP in 2020, for Bryan Bruchman (Totally Real Records) finding me, for everything that’s come of that. A couple years ago, I couldn’t have anticipated that I’d ever be making vinyl or cassette, or even feel comfortable sharing these songs with friends. It’s been a profoundly empowering experience.
The press release describes how the key motif of votive candles emerged from two events: one from this world and one a dream. Could you detail the experiences in a little more detail? Were they eureka moments in shaping the album, or was the process more gradual and organic?
The album came together very slowly at first, then suddenly, almost without me knowing, it had arrived. I spent months grouping different combinations of songs, and none of them quite worked. I assume that’s the difficulty of anyone’s debut – should it be current and focused and sonically cohesive, or tell a deeper story of who you are and what you’ve explored as an artist thus far? I’m eternally indecisive, so choosing from dozens of unreleased songs was hell, and I kept writing new ones instead, just to complicate matters.
Luckily, writing one specific song was what actually solved the puzzle. In February, I wrote ‘Votives’ after talking to a group of old friends that had all ordered love candles from the same East Village occult shop. I’d been taking a pleasant break from dating (somewhat forced by the state of society), and I’d honestly been enjoying it, but I still toyed with the idea of getting a candle myself. I imagined lighting the wick and watching my last relationship reignite. I’d held regrets about ending it, but envisioning it play out again, I realized I’d end it again. There was so much relief in that realization. I held that flame in my mind and blew it out. That night, I dreamt that peoples’ minds were little churches filled with votives burning for everyone they’d ever loved. Lots of red velvet and rose windows and vaulted ceilings and flickering lights against dark shadowy walls. That imagery stuck with me.
Over the next few days, I created a new grouping of songs, all different eras and sounds. I was in this sort of daze, almost felt like I was being guided, just doing without thinking for once. What came to be wasn’t sonically cohesive, but was emotionally so, forming this labyrinth of love and loss. There was no straight line narrative, more of a flicker between devotion and resentment, affection and isolation, faith and doubt. I loved that, that it oscillated. It felt true, and that’s all I’d wanted.
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This dreamlike quality is captured by the fogginess which hangs over the songs, one which presents an interesting feel. On the one hand it’s insulated and intimate, drawing the listener right into what are often highly personal experiences, but there’s a sense of distance too. An ethereal tone which challenges the boundary between real and unreal. How do you feel, looking back at the songs now? Where does the needle land on the un/real continuum? Does there need to be a distinction?
I love that you ask whether a distinction is needed between the real and unreal, because no, I don’t think one necessarily even exists. We’re all experiencing our own individual version of reality all the time, some cocktail of internal and external. I used to think there was an objective world we all moved through, but we’re so deep in our heads and influenced by the stories we’re told and tell ourselves, the whole concept of objectivity seems like a fantasy.
So, to return to your question, I think dreams are as real as anything else to the dreamer. I write from a place that’s hyper genuine and almost embarrassingly earnest, and that place knows where my body has been and where my mind has been and everything in between. I’m honestly still self-conscious about releasing work that’s so raw. The intention isn’t to overshare, it’s catharsis, a snapshot of a feeling, you know? I see life in patterns, like this tapestry that’s constantly being woven, so it’s not as if any one song is about one breakup with one person, it’s not a diary entry of the events of a day. They’re really all about everything, threads of different moments that held the same energy. I enjoy specifics in storytelling because I like being led to a place, but I hope to only lead a listener there, then let them look around and project their own lives all over it. Maybe that’s the distance you’re sensing, that I want to leave enough space for you to make the place yours.
Writing about your debut release Dissolve, we wrote of how the wilderness and organic processes were an intrinsic part of your work, referring right back to the Old Man of the Woods moniker. The link was front and centre on Dissolve, but perhaps slightly more layered on the new record. Did you give yourself more freedom on Votives to step beyond or away from the concepts of previous work, or do you see it very much as a continuation of this original OMOTW aesthetic?
Votives is admittedly less overt in its link to the natural world than Dissolve, but I still feel very connected to the mushroom as a metaphor for the role that songwriting plays in my life, and I’m still incredibly influenced by natural soundscapes – in fact, a number of tracks on Votives weave in field recordings from the mountains, river, beach, backyards, balconies. I’m always recording bird calls and cricket choruses and rapids and rain and anything else that excites me. Really I think the biggest change is that I’m hiding behind the moniker less with Votives. It was born primarily from a desire for more anonymity – I needed a character outside of myself to release things that felt so dear to me. Now, it gets to be more of an aesthetic that I can play with and explore. I’m enjoying that shift.
Could we talk a little about your influences? I’ve already used words like ethereal and intimate and dreamlike to describe your music, but there are definite pop elements too, and overall I think it’s pretty unique. How did you land on this style? Is it something that comes naturally? Or do you consciously piece together disparate pieces to form a cohesive whole?
I don’t write with a certain sound in mind. That’s felt forced when I’ve tried – my songs seem determined to unfold at their own pace, so I’ve learned to let them. I approach producing more like collage. Most of the time songs start with a phrase that’s been floating around my mind, then I explore writing more lyrics with chords or a bass line or a beat, then I gradually build up the rest of the sounds around that. Sometimes I let it sit for a while and chop it all up later and that remix becomes the original.
As far as influences go – so, so many! I’m such a fan, I love hard on what I love. I’ll listen to a song or an album every day for months, it’s outrageous (having that moment with Indigo De Souza’s ‘Hold U’ right now). I’m sure you can hear the imprints of those obsessions in whatever I’m making. I wrote Votives over many years of many phases with many artists…at one point, lots of Waxahatchee, CBMC, Remember Sports, Radiator Hospital. Fell hard for their rawness. More recently, obscene amounts of Porches and Boy Harsher. Love that combo of dark, atmospheric, crunchy, and catchy. Absolutely worship Adrianne Lenker’s songwriting and James Blake’s production. His livestreams are so special too, how his songs still manage to hold the same essence when played on just piano. I play around with mine in the same way, seeing how much I can take away and still keep the feeling. Pop is definitely pervasive in my regular listening, as is anything with a dreamy harmony. Grew up on The Beatles and Zombies and Beach Boys and Gregorian chants. Everything I like probably falls into the category of ethereal, they just belong there for different reasons.
Votives is out now via Totally Real Records and you can buy it from the Old Man of the Woods Bandcamp page, including the new vinyl edition.
Photos by Joan Elliot