The Total Sound Of The Undergound

Lelahel Metal

In this interview, Bog Witch dives deep into the haunting creation of Seasick, exploring ghostly tales, oceanic grief, unique instrumentation, and the healing power of myth, landscape, and music.

1. "Seasick" is such a vivid, atmospheric piece—almost like a séance at sea. What sparked the idea for this haunting oceanic ritual?  

The song started as an idea about an angry ghost.  A woman drowned by her lover.  I intended it to be a revenge story about a haunting.  But the meaning of the story evolved for me over time. 

2. You use some incredibly unique instrumentation on this track—ukulele, autoharp, washboard, even whale sounds and a musical saw. Can you talk about your approach to sound design and what each of those elements represents in the story? 

It was a process of trial and error to achieve the sound.  The song was written on ukulele.  I wrote it during the global pandemic.  I had been playing it off and on for a couple of years before deciding to record it. This is often my process.  Many of my songs evolve out of years of playing and tweaking. 

I abandoned the tracks I initially put down for it and started over from scratch several times.  I just didn’t like what I had but I could not yet “hear” how to make it work. 

One afternoon, I grabbed my washboard and brush and started brushing on the washboard to the click.  I liked how that sounded, so I added the thimbles. The uke went down nicely after this.  Then I found a spooky synth pad.  The pad really wove it all together.  The direction of it really opened-up to me then. 

I used my autoharp just to add some drama and some punctuation at key points in the lyric.  Then I added bass, kick and snare just to build it a little.  One drawback to the song is that it lacks dynamics.  So, I tried to build things into the mix to counter that.

I happened upon the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s collection of sea sounds one afternoon as I was considering what to do next.  The site has an archive of audio recordings made of sounds in the ocean during the 1990’s.  These recordings can be downloaded for free.  I also found other whale voicings on a web site.  I pulled these sounds in and automated them some to weave in/out of the soundscape.

The musical saw was the last element.  I debated for a few weeks regarding what instrument to add to the existing soundscape.  I considered violin, cello, and electric guitar.  Eventually, I came to the idea of musical saw. 

3. The song feels like it lives at the intersection of folklore and ecological grief. How does myth-making help you process and communicate environmental themes? 

I tend to write songs featuring animals and use what I refer to as a “filter” to examine what it means to experience life.  I have written about the dogs left behind in the Chernobyl exclusion zone. I have written about Islero, the fighting bull who killed one of Spain’s most infamous bullfighters, the great Manolete.  In my mind, these songs examine themes of trauma and survival. 

4. You’ve described the sea witch as “half grief, half enchantment.” Do you see her as a part of yourself—or something bigger than human?

I view her as an entity betrayed by man.  Perhaps she was a woman murdered by her lover and died by his hands.  The sea brought her back.  It was her destiny to become the vengeful sea witch.  Her domain, the sea, is being ravaged by plastic pollution.  She’s also coming for him.

5. What drew you to include real whale vocalizations and echolocation in Seasick? Was there a particular moment in the studio where it all clicked into place?

Regarding the whale vocalizations, particularly the echolocation sounds, I wanted to “thicken” the percussion with an organic sound from the ocean, to make it sound like an army of angry crabs are crawling on the ocean bottom toward revenge.  The low moans of the humpbacks also gave voice to the grief and anger as well.  I would say that adding each of these was a bit of a trial-and-error process.  At a point in the production, I began to hear the song telling me where it needed to go. 

6. In past works like “Girl in the Box” and “American Doll,” you confront gender roles and societal expectations. Does Seasick continue that thread in a more elemental or symbolic way? 

I believe it does.  As I have evolved as a writer, performer, producer, I have begun to see Bog Witch as a small disrupter.  I have several songs that I intend to eventually release that address the cost of war and cruelty.  I’m still working on these songs and I’m using the lessons that Seasick taught me.

7. You’ve lived in many different parts of the U.S.—Montana, Oklahoma, the South. How do landscapes, both literal and emotional, find their way into your music?

I just got home from a trip to Montana.  I think it’s one of the most beautiful places in the world.  In my mind, the landscapes we reside in shape the lives of the people who live within them. It would be hard for me to write without including some aspect of this.  When in Montana most recently, I drove around listening to Hippie Death Cult.  Their music really enhanced the landscape for me.   

8. You’ve released music under your own name, as Bog Witch, and with the Blackfoot Daisy Band. What does the persona of Bog Witch allow you to explore that maybe your other projects don’t? 

It’s funny because Bog Witch began as a joke about my hair.  During the pandemic, like every other musician, we were playing on live feeds almost daily.  I viewed a video we had posted and made a comment that my hair was terrible, commenting that I looked like a Bog Witch.  About 30 people replied that I should write a song called Bog Witch. That resonated with me.

Bog Witch became a garage rock project featuring songs about the lives of women.  Now, I see this expanding into other realms, but a witch will always be at the heart of it.

There are certainly elements of Bog Witch in the music I write for Blackfoot Daisy and under Wendy DuMond, but I see the band project as more mainstream Americana music.  Also, the music I write under Wendy DuMond is much more personal to my own life experience.    

9. The production on Seasick feels both handcrafted and cinematic. What was the process like working with Sid Hagan on mastering, and how hands-on are you with the technical side?

Sid is an old friend who runs a mastering studio in Virginia.  He is also a musician and has released some great music.  He gets involved at the end when I think the track is mixed down to the point that I hear what I need.  Sometimes, he will send it back and tell me to adjust things. We go through a process until we agree the track is where it needs to be.

Regarding the technical aspects, I tracked/recorded all the instruments, mixed them, etc.  I guess I would say I’m very hands-on.

10. With such a deep catalog of evocative songs, what continues to inspire you creatively—and what scares you, artistically speaking?  

The world around me continues to inspire me.  One project I’m about to start up has to do with house flies and how they depend on humans to live.  I have a recording of the song now on my Soundcloud page, but I’m about to redo the entire thing because since the time I originally worked it up, I began to hear what can make it sound better.   

I struggle with depression and sometimes I feel paralyzed by the sad things I see happening all around me in the world.  My greatest fear is that I will not be able to climb out of a flat spot/paralyzed state if I allow myself to go there.  In many ways, my music is a form of therapy.  I hope to continue creating until I am no longer able.

11. If the ocean could write you a letter after hearing Seasick, what do you imagine it might say?  

I have no idea, but I would hope that the ocean would consider me favorably for trying to facilitate a communication between itself and the humans who seem determined to destroy it.

Bog Witch Music | musician

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