Here Comes the Night

[October 17th, 2007]

Pray you’re never Leigh Marble’s muse. If it doesn’t work out, he will write the most hurtful, yet somehow tender, song about the whole mess, and it will burn. In fact, the songs on his recent sophomore release, Red Tornado, burn so brightly it really doesn’t matter who they’re about—they simply feel personal.

Perhaps that’s because Marble, who moved to Portland from Massachusetts a decade ago, pours himself—“unhinged,” as he puts it—into every track. But the bitingly poignant folk-rock on Red Tornado almost got scrapped. Though Marble—along with bandmates Ben Macy (keys, accordion) and Jason Russell (drums)—had hoped to finish the record by the end of 2006, a couple roadblocks (“one minor, one major”) made for a very different end result.

First, Marble’s comedic hip-hop side-project the Buttery Lords reissued their somewhat ridiculous debut, Buttered for Her Pleasure, a task that proved more labor-intensive than expected. Then, in February of ’07, Marble’s longtime girlfriend was diagnosed with breast cancer. “At first the songs just [didn’t] feel relevant [anymore],” says Marble. “I thought I should write a new album, ’cause I got totally knocked over.”

But, after what he calls “a little breathing time,” the songs took on a new life. “There’s a certain darkness and a violence that [came] of what I was feeling,” he says. “If I’m going to be doing these songs,” Marble adds, “they’re going to have a rougher edge.” On “The Big Words,” for instance, Marble sings in an earnest, slightly gravelly tone, “I think so much of you/ About a mouthful a day/ But it’s better to put off till tomorrow/ The unspeakable/ Of today.” One needn’t know Marble’s story to feel the softly crippling weight of his words—a gravity that’s laced throughout the album.

But unleashing raw emotion didn’t come naturally to Marble. “I’m from New England,” he says, smiling, over a neat glass of Maker’s Mark. “I still have a lot of repression that I’m digging myself out of.” So, he broke out of his shell as any self-respecting Portlander would—with karaoke.

Marble says karaoke at the old Rabbit Hole (now Noir) was “a chance to go as nuts as I wanted to, and I got a lot more mileage out of learning how a crowd can respond.” Now, Marble says he intentionally puts himself out there: “I know I’ll feel like crap if I play to only three people and I can’t at least get their attention,” he explains. “I really want to connect with someone if I’m gonna be up there doing it.”

Despite such seemingly honorable intentions, Marble—who says he’s in his “early, early thirties”—is suspicious of his own aspirations. “I was always the shyest kid around,” he says. “I wonder if being a performer—and a solo performer, specifically—sprung out of some kind of self-loathing. Because I was like, ‘I hate being quiet,’ I subconsciously pulled myself toward this so egocentric calling.”

Marble originally moved to Portland because it seemed like “there was space to make an imprint” (keep in mind this was 10 years ago). He became fast friends with—and started working for—Tape Op magazine’s Larry Crane (who also founded Portland’s storied Jackpot! Studios). Writing for Tape Op, a DIY recording bible of sorts, was a natural fit, as Marble recorded his debut, Peep , almost entirely by himself. “That’s definitely reflective of growing up in a such a small town,” he says. “[I thought] there’s not other people around. I have to do everything myself.”

And he’s not afraid to admit that the current, oversaturated music scene is frustrating; in fact, bitingly honest stomp-alongs “Lucky Bastards” and “On Your Way” address exactly that. But he also loosened the reins a bit and recruited help for Red Tornado. “If you’re friends with good players, it’s really a good idea to utilize their talents,” he says. “I’m not gonna paint it as some magical thing, but sometimes it is.” He also mentions that he still has the last word. “In the end, I’m still in a production role, saying, ‘More, less, this, that—darker, darker!’” Marble laughs about that last part, but he’s only half-joking.

Reflecting on Red Tornado’s happenstance inspiration (his girlfriend is now in remission), Marble says, “These songs about broken relationships just didn’t have—even though I [originally] wrote them with all this turmoil—the same weight as this mortal issue that was in my face all the time.” They certainly do now.