Jeffrey Lewis’ press kit claims that he is “the hardest working man in show business.” In the past year, Lewis has played over 130 live shows (not counting his most recent U.S. tour), contributed to The New York Times blog “Measure For Measure” and published a new issue of his ongoing comic book series, Fuff.
Lewis continues to generate original illustrations and videos to accompany his live performances. With all these points to his favor, it’s hard to argue with Lewis’ assertion of his show-biz prowess.
Lewis’ music is often considered antifolk because of his ties to New York’s Sidewalk Cafe, the nexus of the antifolk movement. Unlike other genres, antifolk does not have a distinctive sound. The label comes more from the New York scene that many artists, including Beck and Kimya Dawson, have spent time in.
Themes and similarities that many antifolk artists share are a sense of humor, a general distaste for the establishment and the ability to poke fun at their own artistic endeavors.
The best way to describe Lewis is as a cross between Daniel Johnston and The Ramones. Other obvious influences include Syd Barrett, Scott Walker, Woodie Guthrie and The Velvet Underground. His songwriting style and delivery are straightforward, if occasionally longwinded, for Lewis is, above all, a storyteller.
This approach to art is mirrored in Lewis’ comics. His autobiographical stories are imbued with a sense of mischief and surrealism. The most recent issue of Fuff revolves around an outlandish story told by Lewis’ father, who claims to have driven across America after three bears tore off the roof of his car.
Lewis has written songs about imagined encounters with obscure musicians, about girlfriends who break up with him because they can’t stand his touring schedule, and about anxiety attack triggers.
But whether Lewis sings about the trials of being an artist, or time travel (in one song, he screams out dates, progressively going back in time), he is primarily a storyteller in the vein of Neutral Milk Hotel’s Jeff Mangum or John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats. Although his music ranges from straightforward pop songs to stream-of-consciousness poetry recitations, Lewis channels his influences in a fresh and engaging way.
Lewis most recently applied his idiosyncratic, offbeat pop sensibility to an album of Crass covers. In Lewis’ able hands, these songs sound perhaps more anthemic and accessible than they did in their original form. The tracks are less abrasive, and somehow, their themes of resistance are more life affirming.
Lewis turns songs of anger into songs about being human and learning to love yourself. That is, Lewis has managed to turn Crass songs into Jeffrey Lewis songs, among the most powerful he has ever recorded. This collection, boasting the “well duh” title of 12 Crass Songs, is an excellent introduction to Lewis and his commitment to prodding genres in their most vulnerably ticklish spots.
By looking at folk from his gleefully obscure perspective, Lewis manages to turn the genre into something new entirely; and while that fresh synthesis isn’t necessarily opposed to its origins, it nonetheless renders them wonderfully cheeky fodder for a true outsider artist.
Jeffery Lewis Bandw/ Arrington de Dionyso and Ange SpencerThe ArtisteryOct. 25, 7:30 p.m.$7