Transience and poetry

Nate Clark is a quiet and humble man, profound in his dedication to both Americana roots and the forgotten art of poeticism. Founder of On the Stairs, he can be found on Easter mornings across the street from Powell’s bookstore for a breakfast of pizza. On such a gently muted Sunday morning, the lucidity of creativity is amplified.

His method of composition is like a premeditated formula with the sum of a great song.
“Music is an extension of yourself, your personality, but at the same time you need to understand what is best for the song,” Clark said, “You submit yourself to the song, take yourself out of the picture in order to create something bigger than yourself, which is the song in and of itself.”

As Michelangelo claimed only to be freeing sculptures from stone, Clark seems to be using his musical talents to free songs from the silence. Interestingly enough, he describes his song structure, at least for this particular album, as something an architect might create with drafts, pencils and right angles.

Upon witnessing his newly released album, Beyond a Shadow of a Doubt, it’s easy to hear his honesty and lack of pretension. On what looks like recycled cardboard, the CD case is stamped with a simple white line drawing of two people on the front and only the essential transcriptions. Gratitude can be paid to Sarah Goodchild Robb for the artwork.

A lover of classic songwriters like Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson and Bob Dylan, Clark reveals their influence on him by way of his Leonard Cohen-esque voice and indefatigability for lyric. His musical focus seems to be set on his lyrics rather than the instrumentation, as that is what his listeners most notice and connect with. One of the verses of “The Black Monk” use lyrical, straightforward imagery when he croons “not for pleasure or gold, nor for secrets untold, nor for beauty does his coming portend. Strange silence, cold peace, crazy laughter, warm grief. These are the things he’ll defend.”

Though his music is reminiscent of artists from the ’60s and ’70s, his contemporary style might be mistaken for electronic—the soft-brushed percussion throughout the album, the synth-like strings on “King” and the horns on songs like “Isn’t is Funny?” or “Chosen.” All of this was done with actual instruments and a touch of creativity in the recording studio, like the re-recording of a violin track eight times.

Perhaps Clark’s honest style comes from a childhood of transience. He was born in Illinois, spent some years of his childhood in the Philippines and found music in Houston, Texas. He stumbled upon his dad’s Time Life music collection of 50s pop and later rode the waves of the commercially exploited music of bands like Green Day, The Offspring and Nirvana. He moved to Portland in 2006 only to have his gear stolen multiple times, most recently two weeks ago while visiting the very man that instigated Clark’s interest in music.

On the Stairs is interchangeable concerning its band members. Clark is the constant in a swirl of friends and musicians picking up percussion, strings, horns and organs. Audie Darling, one of the opening acts tonight, appears multiple times on his album as tenderized female backup vocals.

The name On the Stairs captures an idea Clark believes in which is concerned with that sort of apprehensive stage between destinations. Like his band and his childhood, Clark is anything but stagnant, and perhaps his understanding of the insignificance in destinations contributes to his honest and intimate style.

Tonight’s album release show will be played very similarly to the heavy arrangement of the record. Along with folksy artist Audie Darling, banjo-plucking Ezza Rose will also be joining the lineup for an evening of Americana soul.