Holly Crenshaw

Away from the bustling street life of Atlanta's bohemian Little Five Points neighborhood, Kristen Hall settles into a corner booth of a half-deserted restauarant. Despite having driven straight from the airport in bumper-to-bumper traffic, Hall is in a remarkably good mood during a conversation that offers frequent glimpses of her infamous razor wit, as well as telling clues about her musical sensibilities.

Ever since her catchy, pop-inflected songs started attracting notice a few years ago, the singer-songwriter has found a natural audience in the contemporary folk realm. But when she cites her favorite writers, Kristen Hall is just as likely to mention alternative artists such as Kurt Cobain, Aimee Mann, Jules Shear, Elvis Costello and Paul Westerberg as she is the more predictable singer-songwriter types. Categories and genres don't matter that much, as long as she finds the music compelling.

"Melody - that's what turns me on about anything," she says. "I think that's what people are looking for and the reason that country music's gotten so big again. 'Cause all of a sudden, pop music was devoid of melody."

Hall, a native of Detroit, moved to Atlanta in the early '80s, but stagefright kept her out of the spotlight for several years. Still, by the time she recorded Real Life Stuff, her 1990 independent release, her repetoire was so rich with disarmingly appealing tunes that the relatively unknown performer was offered a publishing deal with BMG.

While first touring with the Indigo Girls as their guitar tech, Hall got a rare, insider's view of their fame - and experience that left her wondering if she wanted to face the pressures that come with bigtime success. But later, as their opening act and as a busy solo artist, Hall continued to win over larger audiences while honing her songwriting skills. In 1992, Amy Ray's Daemon Records released Fact & Fiction - a collection of thirteen memorable tunes that feature Hall on acoustic guitar and harmonica - which was later re-released on Windham Hill's High Street records.

Hall's melodic gifts - brought to life by her warm, raspy vocals - are even more fully realized on her new High Street release, Be Careful What You Wish For... Produced by Jerry Marotta, the mature, sparse-sounding album builds off the solid ensemble playing of Hall, Marotta, bassist Sara Lee and guitarist Bill Dillon, complimented by guest appearances from Emily Saliers, Matthew Sweet, Jules Shear and others.

As on her first two records, Hall's straightforward, intimate lyrics again reveal a willingness to explore the dark edges of doubt and fear, but she's just as adept at capturing life's most unguarded moments. "My thing is, 'Come here, spend some time, let me tell you what I think and let's see if it stirs any thoughts in your mind,'" she says. "With my music, if you sit down and listen, you'll get it. And with Windham Hill, the biggest advantage is that all of a sudden, that's a completely acceptable idea."

Well, I didn't finish a song until I was probably 19, but I always had little ideas. I pretty much started writing my own songs out of necessity because I couldn't play anyone else's as well as I wanted to. I didn't know those really cool James Taylor chords and I couldn't play them just like he did. And if I couldn't play them just like he did, then I didn't feel it was fair to play that song - 'cause I knew a bad cover when I heard it (laughs).

Like when they play the wrong chords?

Yeah. Or they leave a couple out because they don't know them. And I knew I was doing that, so I just didn't do it. I started writing my own instead. I was like, "I just won't use many" (laughs). I still don't use many. I'm a real one-trick pony. You can tell what my new chord of the year is on every record. Right now it's this step between E minor and G - it's my chord of the year (laughs).

When you look back at your early efforts, is it obvious who your influences were at that time?

Oh yeah. Jackson Browne, Neil Young, Paul Simon, Alice Cooper and the Beatles - obviously, the Beatles. John Lennon is - was and still is - my biggest hero.

But more than being influenced by any one person, I was influenced by melodies in general. I was addicted to melodies. I think that's the thing that makes me able to be a fan of somebody as mellow as James Taylor and somebody as aggressive as Kurt Cobain.

So you've made it a point to emphasize the melodic aspect of your songwriting?

I think that's the kind of thing where, that's what I like a lot and that's what I listen to, so naturally when I go to create something, that's what comes out.

I have to depend on melodies because I'm not a great guitar player. I know maybe 10 chords, so that's where I have to get creative. I have to take the same 10 chords and make them sound completely different than the last time I used them. That's my game (laughs).

Your first, self-produced album, "Real Life Stuff," came out around 1990. According to a popular anecdote, Bonnie Raitt supposedly cited you as an example of someone doing good work on a small budget. I'm curious to know - is that story true?

I'm curious about it too. I don't know - I wasn't there. It's so third-hand to me that I always deflect this question, because I don't know and I can't say. And it's a crushing thought to me that Bonnie Raitt would read it and go, "Who the hell is this and who made this up?"

But as it was told to me, she was talking about how production is irrelevant for up-and-coming artists, when songs are good. Good songs are good songs, whether they have no production or bad production. And that up-and-coming artists shouldn't be spending tons of money, because for five or ten thousand dollars you cannot make anything that sounds like a Bonnie Raitt record currently does. And I was the example. All I know is that all of a sudden a lot of people were knocking on my door, and that's what they said about it. In fact, one of those people was Bonnie Raitt's A&R man.

And it was fairly soon after that when you singed your first publishing/development deal with BMG Music?

Oh yeah. Immediately thereafter. The next day. Russell (Carter) called me and said, "All these people are calling here about you."

How were you helped by having that songwriting deal?

Well, living expenses were no longer an issue, so therefore I could have a band and not worry that I wasn't making money. And having a band changes your style, so the deal changed that for me in a sort of second-hand way.

And I think that I was so insecure about what I was doing at the time - it offered a big arm of encouragement around my shoulder. I felt like, "Hey, maybe this isn't so bad." And I definitely felt freer about what I had to say. Confident really wouldn't be a good word - but less inhibited (laughs).

Have you ever written a song with the intention of getting a specific artist to record it?

I tried to do that once. I remember one summer, BMG called me and said, "Barry Manilow is making this big Christmas record and if you get a song on it, you're a guaranteed millionaire." (laughs) And I was like, "Hmmm, Christmas song..." And I remember I was lying on a raft at the pool going, "I can't do that. I just can't." That's not how I do things. I went through this whole cycle of being so disgusted with myself for even entertaining the notion.

Sounds like you have more integrity than me.

It wasn't even integrity - it was just a lack of imagination or something. I could not even for a minute - on that day - imagine myself being Barry Manilow at Christmas (laughs).

Under what circumstances do you normally write?

I usually write at soundcheck. Being on tour is a really emotional thing for me because I'm away from home. I'm by myself. It's a hard thing. And soundcheck is all of a sudden when I get my time. I get to do what I want to do. I have my guitar, I have a sound system, they have work to do anyway - so I just stand there and sing. I kind of tune out everything around me for half an hour. Sometimes I'll just start playing some chords and humming something. Or sometimes, something somebody said is stuck in my brain and throughout the day I've been going, "How would this go in a song?" When I get to soundcheck, I work on it. I start them at soundcheck I don't usually finish things til' I get home.

Do you ever have to force yourself to buckle down and finish thing?

A lot of times I have verses and choruses - and the bridge is never finished. The week before I went into the studio to make my new record, I wrote three bridges. This was after I'd told everybody, "Oh yeah, they're all done. We're ready to go." (laughs)

I'd wake up in the morning and turn on my laptop and I'd go, "I'm not getting out of bed til' this is done. So if I want to do anything today, I have to write this bridge to this song."

I'm like that about everything, though. My attention span is short and I'm one of those people like, "Give me ten gallons of paint and I'm gonna splash it all around the room and do cool stuff." But when it comes to painting the edges, I'm like, "Hire somebody."

But normally, you wouldn't finish writing your songs in bed, would you? What would be a more typical scenario?

I usually go in my little studio, which has an 8-track digital recorder and a piano. At first, I usually just put on a 90-minute cassette in a boom box. My studio in my house is always in the room with the best view. And I sort of open the window and look out, and I try not to pay attention to the fact that I'm even holding a guitar - I just try to see where that goes. And that's usually how I finish things.

I just try to get a mood going. If it's a real dark song, I do it at night. I have some little Christmas lights up you know, I just kind of hang out. Sometimes I drink a bottle of wine, take my electric guitar, make the amplifier really, really loud - and deal qith sounds and see what happens.

There's something very natural and direct in the way you write lyrics.

You know, when I write, it has to feel to me like I'm having a conversation. What I try to do - when the lyrics don't feel right to me 'cause they feel forced - I just sit thre until what I'm trying to say fits in a conversational way. Like, "I know it'll come, but this isn't it. And I don't like this 'cause it doesn't feel like what I really mean. It feels like I'm trying to finish this song."

Listening to your newer songs, can you hear any obvious changes in your writing style?

Yeah. When I first started playing in bars and nobody was paying attention, I think I wrote in a much more aggressive fashion - based on theatrics, I suppose. "I'm going to scream this out and you're going to hear me out, damn it. And I'm going to say something you always wished you had the balls to say, 'I don't need you anyway.'" Now, you know, I'm a lot more mellow. I don't do that screaming thing too much anymore - touring has taken a toll on my voice, so that's definitely changed the way I sing. I find myself writing things sometimes and I go, "Oh, this is wonderful, but I certainly couldn't sing this every night on tour" (laughs).

After scrutinizing the songs on the new album so intensely during the recording process, do you still feel good about them?

They still make me fidget in my chair, which I suppose is good. There are a couple of really heavy songs on this record for me. They may or may not be heavy for everyone.

The song "Nothing" I wrote about my mother - and the fact that I've been in therapy for a while and she clearly thinks that's ridiculous and unnecessary. And it just became so obvious to me how little we knew each other and how terrible that made me feel.

It's the kind of song where every night, people come up to me and say, "Whew, your mother and my mother should have dinner." (laughs) That's probably one of the best responses you can get because it makes you feel like you're not the only one, which is exactly what they probably thought while they were hearing me sing it. So it's a reciprocal feeling.

Are there any other songs on the record that you're particularly proud of?

I love the song "Following My Compass" that Emily (Saliers) sings and plays on. I strategically placed it after the song about my mother - "Okay, this is how this made me feel, but this is what I'm going to do about it." It's the first song I've ever written really for myself, my first I-believe-in-myself kind of song. So yeah, I like that song a lot. It makes me smile whenever I hear it. I recorded that song live and when I listened back to it, it made me cry. So I thought, "Wow." (laughs) "I made myself cry. Am I an egomaniac or what?"

With this first full-fledged High Street release, you'll be stepping out into a more high-profile arena now.

Yeah, it's a neat thing being on Windham Hill, even though I'm sort of like a sore thumb on that record label. It's like, if they lined up their whole roster and said, "What's wrong with this picture," I would be the first very obvious choice as the Christmas-tree-on-the-beach. You know what I mean? (laughs)

Now why do you say that? What makes you the oddball?

I guess they all seem like normal, happy people to me. (laughs) I don't know - that's probably just me and my paranoia. You know, I sometimes feel very misfit in the whole realm of folk. Everyone else seems so polite and nice, like they don't make waves. I always feel cynical and bossy when I'm around folk musicians (laughs).