Alicia Viani is a storyteller who can transport you to places — places you want to savor and places that push your limits. On her self-titled debut, she sings of blissfully dancing with family under “North Carolina Skies” or soaking up the sun and conversation by the river on “Wounded Healer.” Yet album opener “Good Man” tells a blue-collar tale while confronting everyday racism as she asks: “Are you a good man? Darkness closes in and tomorrow the sun will rise, and who will you be? What kind of man?”
Viani writes about subjects that matter: to herself, her community and our society as a whole.
“I have no interest in hanging out in the shallow end of the pool,” she tells. “Let’s go deep and see what’s there. That’s what I like to talk about, connect about and write about, ultimately because there’s also so much joy in the deep end, too. I think you’ve got to be able to see both. There isn’t the sweetness of joy without the contrast of deep pain, too.”
After a busy summer of brewery gigs and touring regionally, Viani has curated an evening of singer/songwriter fare at Silver Moon Brewing on Thursday, Oct. 24 with her friend and Pacific Northwest folk stalwart Nathaniel Talbot. Speaking with the Source Weekly in advance of her show, answers have been edited for brevity and clarity.
Source Weekly: Tell me a little bit about yourself: Where are you from and how did you learn to play music?
Alicia Viani: I was born overseas. My parents were international school teachers so we lived in Indonesia and Japan. I was in a Japanese yochien, which is like a preschool, and I didn’t speak Japanese yet. I learned quickly to survive at school, but we did a lot of singing. The music that the teachers would play was very grounding, and I think that’s also how I learned my Japanese, through singing and song. My parents always had music going on. My dad was in the Peace Corps in the Philippines in the ’70s and most pictures are with him and a guitar. To this day, all of his buds and my mom’s buds get together and play the exact same goddamn songs that they’ve been playing forever, like folk songs from the ’60s and ’70s. Music’s always been a part of my home. My dad’s got thousands of organized and categorized records and used to put records on, be like, “Alicia, who is this?” And test me and quiz me and wanted me to know who the frickin’ guitar player was in The Who. [Laughs] I was always listening to the sounds and was very influenced by what he played and the songwriters and the lyrics. My brain is just packed with minutes and days and years of music that he exposed me to.
SW: Is it safe to presume that your dad is excited about your music as well?
AV: Yep, number one fan.
SW: You studied classical music?
AV: We moved to Ashland when I was eight or nine, and I started playing the oboe. I went completely down the classical musical route. I went to Indianapolis and was a classical music major in college. In college was the first time I really started playing the guitar and singing with my friends, who also, apparently, their parents knew the same folk songs because that’s what we would sing together. [Laughs]
SW: Where do you draw your inspiration from?
AV: I’m interested in leaning in, even if it’s hard stuff. What’s in the way is the way. If there’s an issue in the world, like violence, that’s what I want to look at. If there’s something in my way of being happy or open-hearted or feeling ease in my relationship, that’s what I want to look at. I’ve always been curious, not because I like misery. I’m absolutely a fairly light-hearted person, but my mind really likes to work to understand the obstacles to people feeling joy and connection. I like to look at cultural obstacles and societal obstacles and injustices, and I like to look at what’s f*cked up, because I want to understand it to move through it.
SW: What makes this music scene feel like home?
AV: There is a quality of musicianship and artistry that is really advanced here, and I find myself going out to listen to music and constantly being interested and not bored. Even if the music is fairly homogeneous — white people, folk, rock, bluegrass, Americana, which is unfortunate that we don’t have more diversity in our music — I’m still artistically captivated almost all the time with lyrics or people’s professionalism or really just the quality. I find that people want to support each other. People want to share a gig. People are excited when our fellow musicians have successes.
[Bend feels like a] musical home for me because of history: Mark Karwan [vocals and acoustic bass], who I play with and have played with for about 10 years. I have an incredible friendship and musical chemistry with him. He’s one of my dearest people, and I love spending time with him. The fact that we get to see each other regularly and create music together and go on tour together, I feel so lucky. His artistry blows me away. And Pete [Kartsounes, vocals and lead guitar] joined when my record came out [in 2020]. Pete has also become a friend who I love and whose musical chemistry is so complex. The three of us have created a lot of soul together. They really anchor me to my art.
SW: It sounds like, with Mark and Pete, that you’ve really found a special community and foundation here that has allowed you to grow.
AV: Yes, and people are authentic. I think that’s the point of songwriting: to try and tell the truth as much as possible in the shortest way, which is hard. It’s basically like writing a poem. It’s easier for me to be verbose and lengthy, and it’s way harder to tell an emotional truth about anything — the world, my heart — succinctly. So, the whole point is to be as authentic as possible. I just find that the artists around here are also really authentic.
SW: You’re playing Silver Moon on Oct. 12. What’s the occasion?
AV: Nathaniel Talbot is a longtime friend. He and his band are touring and [we’re splitting] a bill when he’s in town. I think his guitar playing and lyricism is very interesting and captivating. We lived in Eugene at the same time together, and we met because we’d be the only people under the age of 60 at a lot of the same shows and we kept spotting each other, like Bill Frisell shows and Kelly Joe Phelps. I hear a lot of the same music that we love in his playing, so it’s always a treat to hear him.
All ages
This article appears in Source Weekly October 10, 2024.
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