Q ’n’ A: Ben Lee

Ayahuasca: Welcome to the Work is Ben Lee’s ninth solo album, and perhaps his most controversial to date, focusing on his experiences with the South American psychoactive brew. We discuss this odd moment in Ben Lee’s career, in which he has released his least commercially-minded record to date, while being drafted in as a mentor for the top rating television series The Voice, as well as looking back over his varied and storied career.

Obviously naming your album after a psychoactive drug is a risky move. Are you worried about any kind of backlash?

I’m aware that I’m discussing something provocative and it’s in a taboo area of society, but I also feel like art is always that, in a sense. I mean, when an artist writes a beautiful sad song, they’re really expressing a feeling that people don’t feel they are allowed to express in their daily lives, and there is some liberation in that. I think it’s part of the stock and trade of being an artist: being okay with playing something out that possibly people may be uncomfortable with. But, at the same time, I’m also aware it did require sensitive handling, and me being willing to talk about it, and stand behind it, because while I don’t mind people having a response, I don’t want to be misunderstood, so I like having the chance to talk about it.

Are you waiting for criticism, or for people to misunderstand your intentions?

I’d say I’m cautiously prepared. I’ve been involved in spiritual and transformative work for a long enough time to be aware that you can’t be Pollyannaish, ‘Yeah, power of positive thinking’, when you’re talking about healing and the unconscious and repressed emotions – it’s really hard to talk about ayahuasca without talking about suffering, and the conditions on the environment, and what we’ve done to the world, and these are extremely provocative areas. I have dealt with, even just my family and friends, just lightly questioning me: “What’s all this about? Have you lost your mind?” People have this big, bad word ‘drugs’, which is spread across anything illegal, whereas all the drugs that people use legally they seem to have no problem with. It’s like a fear word, and so I’m aware and I’m ready to talk about it.

It’s your second concept album, for want of a better term. Why now have you started to branch into that area of creation?

It’s weird because I’ve thought that all my albums are concept albums.

Sonically they seem to be.

There is also always a defining theme. I look at Breathing Tornados, say, and that was a record about – breathing a tornado is about the experience of inner-volatility that needed to explode. Whether that was about getting out of a conservative family life or wanting to make a mark on the music industry – it was about volatility, Awake Is The New Sleep was really a record about going to India and tapping into this mixture of my own personal pain, and grieving and a break–up, mixed with this sense of cosmic inner-connectedness, which I was starting to get a sense of. So I do feel each record has had that, but I do understand these last two have been very much more on the nose in terms of that. It might just be that I’m making less records, maybe because I’m working on more other projects, and I’m a parent, so I really want to have something to say when I do. I don’t feel pressure: “Oh, it’s time to make a record, I’d better make one.” I’m doing it when I have something to share.

It’s odd, you mentioned you were grieving the passing of your father and going through a break-up while writing Awake is The New Sleep, yet that album birthed the start of your more positive work. Was this a reaction against your personal life, or was it that you turned a corner?

It’s really quite mysterious. I remember having a dream when my dad died, where I looked at my hand and there was a hole in it. And I freaked out, and I looked down at all and I realised that the hole went on for eternity, and there was this mixture of pain and a wound, but also this infinite perspective that I hadn’t had before and I think a lot of people who go through trauma or heartbreaks or big events in their lives have that experience: on one hand something sad has happened to you, but on the other it’s opened you up in a way you couldn’t have imagined. So part of that positivity was just this sense of openness – I’d experienced the world as more open then I’d experienced it before.

You were also under a lot of media scrutiny at the time. Breathing Tornados was released to a lot of hype, you made a lot of grandiose statements at the time, and got shot down quite a bit. Was it hard to go through these personal things while being in the public eye, or did your personal life just completely overshadow this?

Probably a mixture. I did feel that in the Breathing Tornadoes phase I was very interested in persona, and the cause and effect of, ‘well, what happens if I behave this way?’ Like, let me move A and see what happens with B. There was this great sense of experimenting with provocation, and what is the power of having a pulpit, and what can you make happen? But I was definitely aware that the public perceptive of me was… you know, not entirely positive but also not entirely accurate. This record, if people take a reaction against it and say, “Well, he’s advocating the use of a natural psychedelic for therapeutic purposes”, I’ll say “Well, okay, you don’t like me for that, okay”, but to not like me for something that wasn’t totally authentic for me… I thought, “Urgh, okay maybe I should let people in a bit more.” I thought, “I want to have less of a guard up and I want to let people in to who my friends know me as.” I think I’m more likable than I let on.

I think people missed the showman aspect, too. Like, you literally stood on The Panel desk with an acoustic guitar.

Well, it was a time when that was a little bit less done in the Australian indie scene, whereas now people put on a bit of a show, and wear the sunglasses indoor at nights. Rock-stars are a little more allowed now, so I was kinda rebelling against that. It was kinda out of context.

You mentioned before that you have a child now and you’re married. Are you worried that being more settled can be detrimental to creativity?

No, I think there’s a certain vibration of creativity to do with what happens when you’re twenty years old and there’s this rock ‘n’ roll, sex thing going on, so yes, it’s detrimental to that. But I think that’s one slice of the pie of creativity, that for some reason our society and the media focuses on a disproportionate amount. I remember when I was 25 and I went to see The Vines, and they were up there being all dangerous and 19 and I thought: “I’ll never have that again.” There’s a thing, an electricity of that certain time. But there’s other types of electricity and other types of creativity that we access. It’s infinite. I think in terms of Beethoven (laughs). There are many degrees of openness and expressiveness and creativity that you can harness.

Well, with that being the case, what drove you to then make a Noise Addict [Lee’s Pavement-y teenage band] record a few years ago?

I think it was about home recording. It was before I’d set up my studio that I’ve since done all my records in, I just had an [portable recording interface] Mbox. I’d made all these records where the production was such a laboured thing, like ‘pick a producer, pick a studio’, I just had this little desk, MBox, and a computer and I thought ‘I want to make a record, what should I do?’ And I wanted it to be really throwaway, and I’d just put a record out so it didn’t feel like time to put a ‘Ben Lee’ album out, and I thought, “Hang on, I’ve already kinda got a brand name that stands for home recording, crappy sounding go-for it thing – so why not use that?”

How did Lou Barlow become involved?

I just emailed him and was like, “Hey man, wanna play bass on an album?” and he said “Yup” and did it by himself and just sent it to me. He just made tasteful, simple choices, and he got what I was trying to do.

The record doesn’t sound over-thought.

I’ve already wanted to have room for that, so it’s nice to know that maybe that’s a thing I can return to periodically, and just have that as an outlet.

Do you think that will be the case?

I don’t know. I was doing a lot more projects, the last few years I’ve done a lot, and I started feeling a bit like, “You know what? I need to start being a bit more selective about where I put my energy and my time.” It’s to do with parenting, too, but what I have found is I love the first half of projects: I love starting them and conceptualising them, but finishing them is a pain in the arse. So I started saying, “You know what? Maybe I shouldn’t start as many”, and when I think I should start one, maybe take a deep breath and see if there’s not one I can instead finish.

So you have a lot of work in the vaults then.

I do. I’ve got an entire album called Mixtape that I did with Squeaky Clean, this producer, and it’s all other people singing, like Kylie Minogue, and Ian Ball from Gomez and Zooey Deschanel, and it’s just one of these things where it’s hard to find a context for it. I don’t know if it’s ever going to come out. I hope it does, but there’s things like that, that are lingering.

Could you maybe just put it out online?

I guess so. I don’t know, I just keep thinking, it’s all well and good to put something out online but people have to hear about it, and you have to do some degree of promotion and marketing and until I have some idea of how to do that… I did the Noise Addict thing and put it out online and a few thousand people downloaded it, but this has been so many years that I feel it needs some kind of promo.

When was the last time you heard your really early stuff?

Periodically I’ll listen to a song or something, but it’s been a while.

And how does that feel? Do you constantly poke holes in it, or is it like listening to a younger artist, or reading an old diary?

I find myself in cycles. In the beginning when I make something, I’m really psyched about it, then I move into a period where I’m hyper-critical of it, then when enough time passes I can listen to it almost as another artist and appreciate it. It’s almost like I’m at that point. I’m like, “Wow man, whatever it sounds like, good on you!” (laughs) Oh, I did that, I was 15, I was making albums, it’s pretty great. And also, I don’t know if you’ve found this, but getting older, you just become less judgemental.

You find your younger-self cute, in a way.

Totally! “Yeah, that’s cool. You were just having a go.”

So, what’s your favourite album in your canon?

I think my mind has been swayed by the ones that got the most applause, so it’s a bit hard to tell. For me, the fondest experiences looking back, were the albums that really connected with people, like playing the songs live and people singing along – I feel more fondly towards those ones. So I feel sorry for the other ones (laughs), like they’ve been neglected, but I suppose Awake Is The New Sleep will always have a certain thing for me, where it’s the record where I said, “You know what? My career and my spiritual path are going to be travelling together from now on.” I was thinking about this just today. Yesterday somebody asked me, “How do you define what it is you are really interested in, like what are you passionate about?” and it’s the awakening of consciousness. Like, I’m interested in that in all forms and all areas, and that’s the record where I first realised that, so it holds a very special place in my heart.

It’s also the first one you released through your own label.

Exactly, so I stepped away from the gate-keepers, so to speak. I mean, I did it with Inertia and had a lot of help, but I didn’t feel like a kid that needed to listen to what the grown-ups had to say. That was the first record where I felt that way.

Changing topic, have you thought about taking any more acting roles?

It happened once, and it was a really great experience, but it’s not something I think about too often, to be honest. But I do feel that I have no prejudice against different mediums. If there’s a project that does awaken consciousness and has that thing about it, I’d give myself to it, in any medium. I’m really open to what comes across my path.

There was also the Catch My Disease documentary (a retrospective of Lee’s life). What was that like, seeing your life summarised like that? There are parts of it that seem like a eulogy.

I would say it’s like, just totally traumatic. It’s really weird. I still haven’t really processed that film, I don’t know exactly. It’s just something that had to happen, and they all felt passionately, and we just kept going… I don’t know.

The thing that comes across, especially in the first half, is how enamoured of you these Hollywood stars, like Winona Ryder, Jason Schwartzman and Michelle Williams, are.

Great. What comes across is Hollywood stars think very highly of me (laughs). No, I think what happened was, he [Amiel Courtin-Wislon] interviewed a lot of my non-famous friends, too, but I think the editor and the distribution company said, “Let’s cut out that guy nobody’s heard of, and get Michelle Williams in there for longer.”

It makes it look like you just stormed America when you were sixteen.

I mean, I kinda did a little bit. A lot of it was, say Michelle for example, when we became friends, she was not what she is today in terms of people knowing about her: she was on a crappy show as a working actor, so there are ways of framing all this so it looks a little more glamorous.

What pushed you into making records at such an early age?

I think it was kind of, honestly, the desire to build my own life. I felt that the community and the world and the values that I saw around me were not going to be nourishing to me, and that I would need something else, and I kinda knew I needed to make that happen for myself. And I had this music thing, I liked it and I thought, “Hey, I see these bands travelling around, and they get to go to other countries, and this could be my ticket, so I’m going to try this.”

Did you have to develop a thick skin early on. Because Noise Addict got slammed. In [the band’s debut record] Meet The Real You there are a bunch of negative press clippings in the booklet.

I remember those press clippings! We did a record early on through [British indie label] Wiiija, and they were really punk and they thought everything was funny, so they sent me–I was fifteen– a booklet with all the photocopies of all the clippings of our bad reviews. And I was fifteen! I looked at them, and I was like [shocked face] – I couldn’t believe it. So I called Gary [Walker, label boss] and I was like, “What is this?” and he said, “We thought you’d like it, isn’t this hilarious?” No! You know, obviously when people get older they do develop that thick skin, but I did not have that yet. And also, I wanted to make something of this. I sort of feel now that I don’t have a thick skin, but I try to hear what people are actually saying. Because when people are critical and judgmental, they’re usually expressing some other kind of fear that’s not really about you. So I try to listen to what they’re saying, and extract that. Because there is a truth in there, and sometimes it’s about me, and sometimes it’s about them. I use that as an opportunity to learn about people.

One of the main criticisms you’ve faced is that you’d thrown off the indie tag and embraced pop culture, referencing Jay-Z, duetting with Mandy Moore. Did you expect that reaction?

Well, that wasn’t an accident, so they were criticising the thing I was trying to do. [2007 album] Ripe to me was an exploration of pop culture. I basically said, here’s an artist, me, who’s been told all my life by various people, “You could be bigger if you just did this, or just did that. You’re being a little weird”, and I was like, “You know what? I’m gonna make a record where I do all that stuff. I’m gonna get the producer, the session musicians, all the songs are gonna have catchy choruses and no dark subject matter and just go for it.” I had the album cover with me looking suave on the couch, and I just did it, and I was completely honest that that was what I was doing. The beautiful thing about that experience was I know so many people that, as they get older, still have unanswered questions in their lives: “What if I had just done that, could my life have gone differently?” I did that, and my life didn’t go any differently. I’m now over it. I’ve always been interested in this.

Well, [1994 Evan Dando worshipping single] I Wish I Was Him is crammed with pop culture references.

Exactly! I’ve always believed that pop culture is the language of our generation, and I wanna understand it and I wanna be part of it, and that’s why I’m doing The Voice. This moment, more than any other, symbolises the various things that are going on in my exploration of this world, in that I’ve made the most out-there, esoteric, potentially niche album that is possible for an artist like me, and I’m a mentor on the biggest mainstream show and I’ve got access to that audience, and I want to be part of all those worlds. I don’t think that I need to pick and choose. They’re all tools and they’re all available to us.

The Voice is another scenario where there will be an inevitable backlash. Are you prepared?

That for me was such a no-brainer, knowing about this album. A lot of people are hearing about The Voice before they’re hearing about the record, so I get that they’re like, “Oh, Ben Lee’s doing another mainstream thing”. I get that, but I think once they see it in the context of the record I’ve made, they’ll realise my avenues for the promotion of this album are quite limited. I’m really grateful for the opportunity to be in that context.

Of course, there’s something hilarious about the fact you’ll get this huge platform and release a drug album.

Dude, basically Channel 9 are supporting the spread of information about ayahuasca. This is an amazing moment! I got on the Todayshow yesterday, Richard Wilkins interviewing me about The Voice – and the album. This is a beautiful thing. There’s a bit of cynicism in that but there’s another level where at the end of the day, on The Voice, I’m not a singing coach, I’m not Delta Goodrem, I’m not someone who’s going to be able to tell them, ‘Well, you were a little this or that’, but I can tell them about being authentic, and about finding the truth of the song; every song has a truth, about not hiding who they are, even though it’s intimidating and not pandering and being themselves. So I think that even within that [show], there is some good work to be done, and I’m open to doing it.

Ben Lee will donate 100% of the profits from this new record: half to the Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies (MAPS), a nonprofit research and educational organisation, the other half will go towards the Amazon conservation team. The album is out April 23.