INTERVIEW: Seán Barna Turns to Bluegrass on Internal Trembling
Seán Barna discusses his relationship to music and night life, as well as his coming out journey and what it means to be a queer artist right now.
Seán Barna is no stranger to queer nightlife, but it’s the peaceful time he spent living in and visiting the most remote and beautiful areas of rural western Colorado that animates the heart of his upcoming folk EP, Internal Trembling. Recorded at the legendary Blackbird Studio in Nashville, four of the five songs feature the Nashville-based, traditional bluegrass supergroup, Hawktail. A fifth song, “firefly,” is a collaboration between Seàn and Brooklyn-based producer, Kyle Joseph. The result is emotional, driving folk-pop, with a slow, relentless build.
In our interview, which includes the debut of Barna's latest music video for "Firefly," Barna discusses his relationship to music and night life, as well as his coming out journey and what it means to be a queer artist right now.
Explain the title of your new release Internal Trembling.
Notre-Dame was burning down in 2019 and I was on my way to work. Standing behind the bar at a dark Greenwich Village wine haunt, I could not stop crying at the images. I was reading anti-religion posts from my liberal friends (I am also quite liberal), but I had a different reaction: something beautiful was burning down. Paris was burning. The next day, President Macron said his nation was experiencing “tremblement intérieur” — internal trembling.
It was not lost on me that Paris is Burning is the most important documentary of queer culture, documenting the culture, struggle, danger, and occasional madness of being queer in the late 20th century–an era of queer history to be survived more so than lived, thanks to the HIV/AIDS epidemic.
This album is a big stylistic shift from your album earlier this year, An Evening at Macri Park. What spoke to you about going acoustic? (A reverse Dylan if you will.)
It was a deliberate decision to further expose my lyrics and the themes I'm talking about. Plus I just happen to be good friends with one of the best acoustic string bands in the world! When I was first talking to Slim Moon and he was considering signing me to Kill Rock Stars, he asked me what I wanted to do next (An Evening at Macri Park was already finished and I had just come off touring with Counting Crows as their opener). I told him I wanted to do a "fucked up bluegrass album". He said, "Awesome!" It's not particularly "fucked up," in the end. But, to me, really diving into very queer themes and singing openly about them against the backdrop of music that could have come from the mountains of West Virginia is a really cool juxtaposition, and something I did very intentionally.
To be perfectly honest, I probably see it as less of a stylistic shift than most people will. As a drummer, I recognize the unbelievable and unmatched rhythmic power of an incredible acoustic string band. And my friends in Hawktail are the best of the best. The challenges of the genre shift from my perspective are entirely contained in my vocal delivery—I had to sing lighter and commit to being a part of the ensemble... delivering the melody as an equal, not as a "lead singer" (the exception is "Firefly," which is a different vibe entirely). I would do take after take for fun (not for keeps), and every time I would find myself learning more about my voice, and more about how the shape of my mouth and my breath affect the delivery of my (many) lyrics.
What words did you need to hear as you explored your identity?
You know the term, "death by a thousand cuts?" I think coming into your own as a queer person is the exact opposite: "life by a thousand little kindnesses." That being said, the most important single sentence I heard in my journey was spoken by my friend Misty Meaner at an after-hours apartment hang. "Stop being a coward." Forcing someone to come out before they are ready is absolutely unacceptable under any circumstance. At this point, however, I had already released the very queer EP, CISSY, and was enjoying the trappings of a fun queer lifestyle in NYC. Misty correctly saw that I was ready in my soul to be completely honest and public about my sexuality, but that I was choosing not to. I was called out by an honest friend.
I am forever grateful for that. I wrote about it more extensively a few years back.
How do you feel your queer identity ties into your performance style or music?
Being a "queer songwriter" is inherently as interesting as being a "straight songwriter." But society has made queer people fight for every right and freedom, and forced us to live in a place of vigilance and defiance as a rule. In that context, a "musician" becomes a "queer musician." And in that space, we all live with different levels of vulnerability. I am a cis white guy from a middle class family in New England who had access to education and who was accepted by his family when he eventually did come out, so I am well aware that my struggles to just exist are relatively minor.
I think it is very important to remember that the only reason a lyric about a gay couple holding hands is different from a lyric about a straight couple holding hands is that the gay couple is often risking their lives to hold hands. And the first time it was legal for a gay couple to hold hands in the United States was in Illinois in 1962. The first time it was equally as safe as a straight couple holding hands hasn't happened yet. I am the same person on and off stage, except on stage I am more completely realized and igniting so many parts of my being all at once. The only "choice" I actively make is to wear some makeup and a gay as hell top while sporting a huge mustache.
What is your vision for a more just music industry?
I really don't know what to say about this. Huge corporations are tough to take on. I'm thankful to be a part of the Kill Rock Stars family... the indie spirit is alive and well with us!
Internal Trembling is out today. You can stream or purchase it here.
