Pokey LaFarge

The one-of-a-kind American troubadour is back with Rent Money, out via his own Boxer Boy Records. It's an impassioned set from the Illinois native with swinging songs about kitchen-table worries and questions of what success even means. But somewhere on the way to discussing the album, the conversation took a detour into the spirituality informing it all.

LaFarge says he gave his life to Jesus on Highway 1 shortly before the pandemic, and these days, he describes his work less as Christian music than as a bridge between the believing and the unbelieving world. What follows is an honest talk about calling, road life, gospel records, and why he refuses to make anything an algorithm could replicate.

Analogue: I'm looking at the spread of tour dates, with Europe coming up, all over North America. You've been at this a while. Is the road home for you at this stage? Is it fuel for the fire, or does it get harder over time?

Pokey LaFarge: I'd say all of the above.

Analogue: Interesting.

Pokey: There was a drive in me at a young age to go out and do this thing. And to a certain extent, after doing this for, I would say making a living now for about 20 years playing music and traveling a lot even before then from my late teenage years. It's not necessarily constantly, but I've definitely wound down the dates. But there were years there, maybe over a decade plus, where I was out on the road 200, sometimes 250 days a year. And so to a certain extent, that drive never really has left me. But as you grow older, you maybe wish you could change to a certain extent. And maybe you just can't, because you've been doing something like this for so long. It kind of becomes who you are.

But you have to be careful when you start drawing lines in the sand and saying who you are and who you aren't, because you literally create your mindset from that. So I never want to say that I'm going to be on the road forever and that this is who I am and this is what I have to do forever. I always want to keep the option open that I would and could do something different and step into a different thing, or step away from the road entirely and still be okay with it, if that's what God was calling me to do.

But I will say that after all these years on the road, when you're off the road, you miss the road. When you're on the road, you miss home and you miss your family and your friends and your church and your coffee shop, your bed, your toilet. I mean, it's a weird thing. It's not like any other job. You can't really compare it to any other job. People don't understand it. "Why don't you just go do something else?" They've been saying that from the beginning. Then I got on [David] Letterman and they shut the traps. All of a sudden I was approved. Yeah, people don't really get it.

Analogue: I don't want to read too much into something, but you just made a couple of references — what God would have you do, missing church. It makes me wonder whether this feels like a calling in a way. Is there a spiritual side to this for you? Or is that reading too much into it?

Pokey: If it wasn't a calling, I wouldn't still be out here doing it. If it wasn't a calling, I wouldn't have made it this far. That's for sure. I've tried to walk away from music, the touring side of music, but I knew that it was an assignment. And when we walk away from our assignment, then we're walking away from the light; we're walking into darkness. That's how angels became demons in the first place.

For me, there's this crazy peace when I'm out there on the road, in the midst of all the traveling and the lack of sleep and the different places every day, different hotels, different venues. There's just a peace there. There's no way that could come from my own mind. Because when I try to align on my own mind too much, and start looking at things the way I think they should be, that's when you start taking control of things and trying to do things in your own strength—that's when things kind of fall apart and you get distressed and you get discontent. But there is this weird sort of just letting go and letting the road take you. And God keeps moving, and people seem to be getting touched.

I'm a Christian who plays, I would say, American music. I wouldn't say I'm a Christian musician. A lot of my songs these days are sort of spiritually, more specifically biblically referenced, but more poetic in the sense that, yeah, they're songs. It's not necessarily what an artist says, but the way they make somebody feel. And feelings change. Feelings can play tricks on you. Your heart is a fickle thing. But therein is the job. The job is to entertain and to spread peace, love, and joy at the show.

Actually, I find that it's not my band. It's God's band. It's revolutionary, because the music scene is definitely not; that's not really their bag. Their bag is sex, drugs and rock and roll.

Analogue: Has that fueled you all along? Is this something you would have referenced 20 years ago?

Pokey: No, I wouldn't reference sex, drugs and rock and roll. Not at all. No, I gave my life to Christ on January 12th, 2019. So I was 35. I had a crazy, crazy encounter with the Lord on Highway 1 on the Pacific Coast in California.

Analogue: You were on the road?

Pokey: I was technically driving, but I wasn't touring. I was living in California at the time.

Analogue: Is there a pretty clear before and after for you?

Pokey: Oh yeah, 100%.

Analogue: Even in terms of career, in that moment, did you view things differently, or were you like, ‘Oh gosh, now how do I apply this to what I've been doing for so long?’

Pokey: Both, exactly. Because when my eyes are opened up to the truth, I realized that there was no going back to who I was. The transformation process begins. As the refining process begins, whatever's not of God had to go. As a man of God, the refining process, the transformation process is the pursuit of righteousness and holiness. We become more like him and less of the world, less of who we used to be. So that's how he works. He works from the inside out. He works on your heart. He works on the eternal things. He doesn't see mankind the way mankind sees itself. We're always looking at outward appearances.

Analogue: How does that play into songcraft for you? Do you remember the first songs you wrote after that Damascus road experience? I guess it would be West Coast Damascus.

Pokey: Yeah, for sure. It was definitely a Saul-to-Paul moment, definitely. For me, I'm a songwriter. I'll write songs in solitary confinement. It doesn't matter where I'm at. So I could get comfortable anywhere enough to write a song. But it took time to adjust, to kind of find my voice, how I wanted to sing. Sometimes at first you'd want to be a little heavy-handed. There were some songs, for sure, I knew I wasn't going to sing anymore.

One of my mentors told me not to forget the poetry of the Bible. Not to forget the poetry of the word, especially the Psalms—I mean, they're songs. And some beautiful, beautiful writing in there. God's word is beautiful, it's poetic, it's metaphorical, it's truth. So it's not necessarily what you say, but how you say it. I think that's one thing he told me, not to forget the poetry of the Bible.

So I think Christians at large used to be better artists. There used to be a lot more Christians, right? The church and the university used to be in one, and they used to really put a lot of work together to fund the arts. And obviously now the separation of church and state, for good reason, mostly. And less Christians. A lot of the Christians I'd see in the music scene these days are kind of just… I don't know, some certainly edifying songs there. I have to put on a different cap when I go to church and I'm listening to worship music, because it's not really my bag. I prefer to listen to old gospel. But it's not necessarily the music itself. It's who you're worshiping. But from an artistic creative perspective, I think a lot of Christian music these days is kind of cookie cutter. It's the same as any other genre, they're trying to fit into a mold.

Actually, I would say me following Jesus in the music scene these days — the counter-cultural aspect of it, that's nothing new to me. I've always been on the outside. I've always been walking my own road. So to be ostracized for Jesus? "Come on. He said it would happen. Let's do it." Again, since we're talking about the Lord and you're giving me all the space to discuss him, he's making a way to do it. I could have easily been canceled years ago.

Analogue: You referenced that you'd rather listen to old gospel. Do you have a couple favorite artists there, where you love reaching for those records?

Pokey: Yeah, there are so many. One artist that comes to mind is Claude Jeter. And who else? Dixie Hummingbirds. I listen to a lot of really rare, deep-cut black gospel, 50s and 60s stuff. The Flying Clouds, the Sunrising Kings. There's a really great record. Fat Possum has a gospel spin-off. I think it's called Bible & Tire.

Analogue: Really?

Pokey: Yeah, it's so sick. So good. And they've been releasing some really good stuff. There's a record I think they released. Bishop Manning. Fat Possum did. Bishop Manning and the Manning family. Mighty Clouds of Joy. I could go on forever, baby.

But that guitar playing on those records… everybody loves the Staples, like early Staple Singers. I mean, that dude don't quit. But yeah, those janky electric guitars on those early black gospel records, like the ‘60s stuff, where it's just an electric guitar and three or four guys singing. That stuff's been really influential to me in the last three or four, five years, since I got an electric guitar. And now I'm basically an electric guitar player.

Analogue: You mentioned that when you go to church, worship music isn't exactly your bag musically. Would you ever write toward that end: songs intended for communal church gatherings?

Pokey: Yeah, I've certainly thought about it, and I prayed about it for years, but the Lord just hasn't opened that door exclusively. There have been songs here and there. I've written a lot of gospel songs, if you will, but they're just not as powerful as some of the other stuff that I'm writing and I've recorded.

I guess I just say, if you can do any number of things, thinking you're doing it for the Lord, but if Jesus isn't in it, then it's probably not going to work out too well. It's not going to have the full power if he's not there. And some of the songs I've written, these gospel songs, are really powerful and beautiful songs, but I've wondered sometimes when I've finished them, it's like — "man, I was just having a conversation with the Holy Spirit right now, and that song was just for him. That was just for us." And I kind of like that. I've written some songs that haven't been recorded, and these just sort of stay in a secret place.

But "You Make My Garden Grow" on the RUMBA COUNTRY record, I think that could easily fit in a church setting. There's a couple others throughout recent years too. But I'll summarize it with this: I currently feel more like I'm being called to be a bridge. If a Christian artist goes out and writes Christian music, he's singing it to a Christian audience.

Analogue: Yeah.

Pokey: And unbelievers aren't going to care at all. They're not going to listen to that stuff. They're not going to seek it out. So I've been called to be in a specific position: To be a bridge between the believing and the unbelieving world.

Analogue: How does that come into play with Rent Money?

Pokey: Yeah, man. That's a good question. If I had to look at it biblically, one way it first comes to mind is bearing one another's burdens. It really seems like people are being burdened by the weight of their finances and the decline of Western civilization and the rising inflation economy. It's just really weighing on people. So it felt like that's what a lot of my brothers and sisters were talking about. Oh, wait, you mean the album.

Analogue: Well, yeah, but by the way, I love that song. When I first heard that couplet—“the good Lord give it, and the landlord take it away”—I thought, ‘Man, if I wrote something like that, I'd just be smiling ear to ear.’ That's such a great line.

Pokey: I smiled when I wrote it too.

Analogue: I'll bet. Overall, as an album, the lanes we're talking about…

Pokey: That's definitely one of the major lanes. I'd say that's one of the interstates rolling through the album. There are some other highways and smaller roads, but I think the burden of finances, the tax burdens, the rising expenses, the bills. It's just ridiculous. And it's good not to be angry for too long, not to let the sun go down on your anger, right? But I guess that's where the blues come from to a certain extent. There's some righteous indignation in there as well, but it's also just a lot of confusion in the world today with not a lot of answers. And obviously I think I know the answer, but people want answers in real time. They want release from the daily troubles, the worldly troubles, and it doesn't come in the time that they want it. And so there's some suffering that we all have to go through, whether we want to or not. It's inevitable.

And so, again, just bearing those burdens. But there's also the song "Told You No," that's more a song about rejection and the absurdity and the hilarity that comes with human approval, and how I don't seek that approval, but it still doesn't feel good to be told no. That second verse is about Jesus, where it says, "Breaking rules, they say you should never do, but when you change the game, they will worship you." And in order to be a leader, in order to be a true artist, you do have to go your own path, and you have to be willing to be rejected. You have to be willing to be rejected in order to be yourself, if you're being called to do something different. I just have never had any desire to do what the large majority of people are doing. I just naturally wanted to go the other way.

There used to be a large majority of my life where I wanted to be praised, or just merely approved, for who I was and how different I was. I don't really seek that approval anymore. It's a dead-end road, or it's an endless road, really. And I don't always know who I'm talking to, what's my audience. I don't know if I've ever really known that. It's kind of arbitrary; it's sort of illusory. I sort of make it up. My audience is so much different than it's ever been.

And I guess deep down I was never really pursuing success. Definitely not now, because that's another big current to the Rent Money record: what is success? America certainly has its definitions of what that is, and it's almost always monetarily related. I don't preach a prosperity gospel. I'm not Joel Osteen.

Analogue: There's not a giant globe circling behind you in your set.

Pokey: That would be kind of sick, actually. But that's what he did. I don't want to disparage Joel Osteen. I'm sure he's brought more people to Christ than I ever will. But people get real lost. And I think part of the burden we have in this country with our finances—the way the whole thing is instituted, the way inflation is rising—is because of our mindset, but also because we're chasing after this carrot. And what is it? It reminds me of, I believe it's Proverbs 23:4: "Do not toil to acquire wealth; be discerning enough to desist." So there's an interesting balance. We have to know when to rest. And I think just before or after that, it's like, "Where are the skillful laborers?" I can't remember if it was in the same proverb. I feel like I'm taking your time, but — so there's just something about working skillfully and working hard with your hands and letting God bring the increase, whatever that is.

So there it is. That's the bridge. It's like, I don't think we're going out there — certainly worship music is worship music. It's music for worshiping God. And I guess I'm not writing worship music. I'm writing stories. I'm writing things about everyday life in the context of Christian eyes.

VISIT: Pokey LaFarge