Sun-soaked road trip music comes in phases. To start, you need that fast-paced, living-out-loud sort of music. By the time you reach your destination, the blood-bouncing tunes demand audience once again. But, for the six hours in between, while the scenery rushes past your window and you’re left alone with your thoughts, you need Portland’s latest lady of indie pop—Annie Bethancourt.
Bethancourt’s approach is simple: Write powerhouse lyrics chock full of sentiment, carefully dress each one in folksy harmonies and unexpected musical arrangements then turn on the mic and gently, but decisively, sing the hell out of them.
“Everything you do is influencing your art whether it’s in a song or not,” said Bethancourt. “Experiences are going to turn into songs one day. If I’m just living my life and enjoying it, I know that the songs are going to come from that. I’d rather do that than sit in my room not having experiences wondering ‘Why are you not writing songs? Why?’
Because of this, Bethancourt makes it a point to carefully select her surroundings. Environment and the moods they provoke are constantly interacting with a musician’s work, making it vital for any artist to understand the relationship between their whereabouts and their inspiration. For Bethancourt, it was in May of 2007, after a trip to Portland, that she found a place that clicked.
“I was changing who I was and how I wanted to live my life. That’s why I felt so uncomfortable in San Diego. Even though it’s a beautiful city, it wasn’t melding with who I was becoming. Then when I came here I was like, ‘I feel like I can breathe. These are my people and they care about the environment and they care about art and they care about community.'”
But our fleeting summer season couldn’t contain her. After little-needed deliberations, she concluded that the best thing to do was to chase the sun. She opted to spend half the year in Portland, making music, and half the year in Costa Rica, teaching surf lessons. The sunny themes manifest themselves once again on her new album, appropriately titled 300 Suns, as an allusion to her enviably warm lifestyle. The album is due next month, just before she leaves once again.
“This album has taken such a long road that I feel like I need some rest. I want to let it get out there and change hands and then when I come back we’ll see what happens.”
Influenced by the likes of Elliott Smith, Regina Spektor and Rufus Wainwright, Bethancourt has developed minimalist instrumentations to frame her bold, often metaphorical lyrics and absolutely flawless voice. She wraps heady notions and observations in pretty little vocal runs, every now and then surprising you with a turn for the dark and moody. It must be those two annual weeks of rain peeking through.
One of the most telling ideas behind Bethancourt’s music is her interest in writing not only to fill her own needs, but also the needs of others. She sees music as a universal tool for communication and understanding, soliciting emotions where there may otherwise have been no means do to so.
“People who aren’t artists and don’t have the ability to express things—music, for them, is also an outlet. It’s not just an outlet for the people that make it. All kinds of art are for people who don’t have the ability to get out those emotions.”
Of course, for Bethancourt, sharing is second nature. It propels her music and her sense of self as an artist.
“For me, I love sharing these words with people. I think that’s why I refer to my music as art. If I say ‘my songs’ it makes it seem like it just stops [there] and it stops with me, and it’s something that I do for me.
But there has to be more connection involved. Everyone has a part in it. I thrive off of sharing it with people. It’s almost like it makes them new.”
It begs the question, if Annie Bethancourt sings in a forest and no one is around to hear, does she make a sound?