In this That Thing You Do! inspired article series from State House Sessions,
artists talk about their life, career & where they were when they first heard themselves on the radio

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From the outside, there is no visible blueprint or equation. Like any of life’s great physical and intangible landmarks, one day it seems to exist as if it had always meant to. Although the manner in which an idea transforms into something else – something that might be remarkable – is one of the more fascinating, mysterious and uniquely personal aspects of songwriting. For Scott Avett of The Avett Brothers, connecting to his own process is an everyday exercise.

It’s a philosophy that has produced 10 studio albums, inspired a critically acclaimed HBO documentary and made venues everywhere a second home, all while capturing the undivided attention of an audience who will travel across the world to see them bring it all to life. Because when they sing, something special happens. Whatever it is that compels them to write is undeniable – a creative restlessness as natural and understood as the Earths gravitational pull. But as thrillingly unvarnished and furious as those performances can be, subtleties evolve into tokens of magnitude and beauty, exploding like a blink and you’ll miss it batch of fireworks that, once you’ve finally met its gaze, is impossible to look away from.

In a moment of near perfect symmetry, their radio debut left Avett struck by a bolt of significance that was quiet in volume and rich in meaning. “I remember growing up, seeing movies like The Buddy Holly Story or something,” he laughs. “And the scene that you see where somebody sees or hears their song on the radio – such a boom of a feeling, of a ‘Now the world has heard it and it’s everywhere.’ It’s such a different time and a different experience for me, for us, I think because we were chopping away at something in such small increments.”  

He figures the year to be around 2004 or 2005, though it’s a story that really begins in 2001, when Scott, his younger brother Seth and New Jersey native Bob Crawford founded the band in the Avett’s home state of North Carolina. Life as a unit has been a whirlwind of playing gigs and cutting albums ever since, though they were largely unknown when they started. “We were gonna go over all these college markets in the country,” he remembers of the small towns and even smaller stations they encountered during their early days. “So it was really, strangely so, what I recall, was a very intimate moment. I recall a pretty cold night. It was in western North Carolina and there was a station, it was like a triple A station.” His voice quickens as he pieces it together, unsure if there was snow on the ground or if the chill in the air and the passage of time has tricked his memory. “It was just a cold and quiet type of moment,” he says, certain of that. “I remember just feeling very sweet and emotional about it.”  

While the track escapes him, he knows it was from their second record, 2003’s A Carolina Jubilee. “I was like, ‘Can I Google this?’” he jokes between laughter and apologies. “I feel like maybe if I scan a little deeper for a few more days it might come about.” Harder to forget is the impression it made, part of which the now forty-three-year-old Avett attributes to age. “You’re very much in a wanting to be heard state of your life or a point in your life,” he says of his mid-to-late twenties. “You want to know that there’s some sort of traction that you can make or have made.” Many years and milestones later, it remains close. “It was a moment of affirmation,” he concludes. “And a very tender and precious moment of affirmation.”

In 2008, the band signed with Rick Rubin’s imprint, American Recordings, and released their breakthrough record, I and Love and You, the following fall. But the watershed moment wasn’t merely a turning point. It’s the BC and AD of their story. Since then, they have worked with the legendary producer exclusively, and while hard work, constant touring and word of mouth has fueled their success, the move to a major label was instrumental in their growth.

But what happens when you know people are listening? When the audience changes from the furniture in the rooms you rehearse in, to the insanity of Madison Square Garden?  

For the lifelong musician, not much. “I’ve been known to say, if you’re thinking about that when you’re writing, you’re trouble,” he says. “You could be dead in the water.” As an art student, he was taught that as an absolute, although he doesn’t ultimately believe in such a strong characterization. “That’s not always true because sometimes that is the audience you’re talking to,” he says before explaining how perception is crucial in determining whether or not it becomes a negative. “And to utilize that, not to obsess over it or only go there and to think that everybody’s caring or listening all the time, that’ll kill you – creatively, it’ll kill you. But to say and to just accept that there’s an audience, there’s not a problem with that.”

Although even if his music had never left their hometown, his upbringing instilled something in him that made him certain there was a place for his art in the world. “I was raised with such love and privilege, and love and confidence that I was born into,” he says. “My imagination, it already put me there. Maybe it’s just my strong ego, once again – good or bad, one way or the other you got to go through with it. There was enough belief in me that everybody cared and that was enough affirmation or confirmation for me to make it because I knew it was worth it. So in a way, I just always figured, ‘Hey anything could be played on the radio, so OK, I got that behind me. Now live your life and continuously write as you are living and writing as you live.’ So that’s what we do to this point. It’s just part of us.”  

Today, it isn’t unusual to hear The Avett Brothers on the radio or watch their performances on late night TV, although the surreal nature of such an existence has yet to be lost on him. There are times when he recognizes his voice through the hiss of the airwaves and still doesn’t quite believe it, all but positive that no one else is listening. But when people at the grocery store tell him a station was just playing his song – or is playing him right now – the notion that their music can reach so many people at once, without them even knowing, is an astonishing realization that speaks to the power of the medium.

“That’s a whole different thing because then you’re like, ‘Whoa, really?’ You realize, ‘I’m like space traveling right now, time traveling, I’m in more places than one. Wow that’s actually happening!’” he says with a laugh. “We can’t even equate that now with the outlets and radio, it’s such a precious outlet, it is. It’s very unique. Theres nothing else like it. I have to believe that there are special frequencies, which there must be, in radio play, that you just don’t get anywhere else.”  

By Caitlin Phillips (Playback Photography)
05.20.2020

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