Six years before the release of his new double album, Little Rock folk rocker and graphic designer Isaac Alexander snapped a photo of a big wooden sign, at least a dozen feet wide, that was sitting alone in an open field next to a church off of University Avenue. It read “FUTURE SANCTUARY” in large, capital letters, which Alexander thought was “hopeful, but kind of heartbreaking,” because a building was never erected in its place. The evocative image and message stuck with him for so long that it became the two-act record’s title and the artwork for part one. The cover for part two was taken years later by his daughter, and is a photo of the same sign, but this time Isaac and his guitar are slumped against the wordless backside of it.
The sign was eventually taken down, but I wonder if it was ever intended to be literal. Was the message supposed to genuinely announce the construction of an upcoming facility or was it more an inspiring, metaphorical call to work toward that which is magnificent, but impossible to achieve? I prefer to think of it as both at the same time. In fact, the conflicting, liminal space between practical and artful, or straightforward and unsettled, is a good way of describing Alexander’s music, especially on his latest releases.
Songs like “Covering Tracks,” track two on side two of “Future Sanctuary,” use arrangement as their subversion tool, beginning in a reliable fashion until they introduce an unexpected sonic element. Just when a steady trot lulls you into thinking this tune is merely a curmudgeonly perspective on growing old and feeling obsolete, a rogue guitar part appears, quivery and spacious, making us question the certainty of Alexander’s words. Perhaps he’s more contemplative than angry. Perhaps there’s beauty in aging.
The following track, “Testimony,” instead presents paradox through its lyrics. In the first two stanzas, Alexander mourns what was lost of he and his wife’s private coupledom when they decided to have children. When he sings “the bride and the groom don’t live here no more” and “the honeymoon is over,” it feels like a clear caution against parenthood. And yet, the next stanza celebrates it — “Rewind/Stop time/Two flowers climb the tower/One more time down the slide.” It’s a sneaky and lovely image that I only fully understood once I spoke with Alexander, who clarified that those staccato phrases are meant to paint a scene of his kids playing at the pool — “You kind of get irritated, but when you look back, you wish it would never end.”
Isaac Alexander, who is 46 years old, has been making noise with a “big collage” of other musicians since he was a teenager in Searcy. His first project was The Screaming Mimes, a high school band who he lovingly labels as “trying to be the Red Hot Chili Peppers.” After college, around the turn of the millennium, he and Brad Williams (known for his work with The Salty Dogs) started Big Silver, a “loose, big dumb rock” band that still performs on occasion. Before transitioning to mostly solo work in the late aughts, Alexander formed The Easys, a pop outfit a la Elvis Costello and Squeeze, and served for a stint as drummer for The Boondogs.
Before releasing “Future Sanctuary” on New Year’s Day of this year, Alexander put out three solo records — “See Thru Me” (2008), “Antivenin Suite” (2012) and “Like a Sinking Stone” (2017) — all recorded and produced by Joe V. McMahan, who’s based in East Nashville. With such a rich history of collaboration, why invest so heavily in the production of solitary art? For Alexander, the songs he puts out under his own name are defined by an excavation of the self. If he finds himself writing something that looks inward rather than outward, that reflects rather than tells fictional stories, then it usually ends up in the solo world. That said, there are pitfalls to this approach. “I’ve used songwriting in the past as a way to feel sorry for myself,” he said. “You can get in a spot where you’re just being sad. When you get in a rhythm of how you make music, it’s hard to see it any other way. It’s something I’m trying to look into.”
Although Alexander conceives of his solo work as distinct from his time in bands, he still relies heavily on the help of other musicians. “I kind of fall apart when it comes to arrangement,” he said. “They have to do a lot of heavy lifting to make the songs sound cool in the studio.” He thinks of himself as primarily a songwriter who needs guidance and direction. Jason Weinheimer — one of Alexander’s long-time collaborators and the producer, engineer and mixer for “Future Sanctuary” — sees things a bit differently. “The songs are so good,” Weinheimer said. “Everything else after that is just window dressing. The trick is not to fuck them up. Adding as little as possible to make them a finished product is my goal when making an Isaac record. A mediocre song requires a great arrangement or great production to sell the song, but a great song requires very little.”
The majority of the 24 songs on “Future Sanctuary” were recorded in two separate three-day sessions at Fellowship Hall Sound in Hillcrest, before Weinheimer moved the studio to a larger location downtown. The first session was tracked as a three-piece in 2018, with Jon Radford on drums, Weinheimer on bass and Alexander on guitar, piano and vocals. Weinheimer stuck around on bass for the second session a couple years later, but Radford was traded out for Paddy Ryan and Chris Michaels joined on lead guitar. After the foundation was laid down, Weinheimer tinkered with auxiliary instrumentation until the songs were fleshed out, including that transcendent guitar part on “Covering Tracks.” Because Weinheimer and Alexander share a studio space, Alexander could literally hear him experimenting through the walls.
Isaac Alexander
Alexander didn’t set out to make a double album, but felt a paralyzed indecision about which songs to cut and which to keep. He consulted a friend who put together a suggested tracklist and sequencing, but nothing felt right. On a whim, Alexander released everything. “I couldn’t face going into the new year and not putting these records out.”
When I asked him what this collection of songs is about, or if they’re united by anything beyond the period of time in which they were written, he answered with the utmost sincerity: “For a long time, I was not real happy with myself. I didn’t get the whole thing that everybody’s good. I’m a good dude. I’ve realized that over the years. It sounds kind of sad, but it’s just true. My personality leans toward beating myself up, and I’m kind of done with that.”
“Future Sanctuary” has its fair share of despondency, but the albums are marked by a newfound willingness to think optimistically. In “Reeling Them In,” Alexander recalls a dreamy and uncomplicated moment from his childhood. “It’s a vague memory of going to church camp and that fun, innocent feeling of taking a swim in the creek and letting that be what it is,” he said. Even “Monster” — a simultaneously soft and grungy song that initially sounds like a critique of the toxic parts of organized religion and politics — contains a surprising lyrical turn: “I’m so amazed by the monster I made.” It might seem like self-deprecation, but amazement and hatred are two different things. By being in awe of his shortcomings and humanity rather than at odds with them, there’s less blame, more tenderness.
The release show for “Future Sanctuary” is on Thursday, Feb. 2 at White Water Tavern. Joshua Asante will open.
