Captain Beefheart, Daniel Johnston, Michael Hurley, Syd Barrett ... some artists defy easy categorization; some art is hewn less from the stones of our daily lives than from the bloody heart of the artist, as personal as fingerprints, as strange as daisies, as intimate as a first love or a childhood trauma. This art can shock, inspire, comfort, frighten or amuse, but it can’t be ignored, because there is nothing like it in heaven or earth.
But it can change lives, this art - even save them. Because something in the uniqueness and strangeness manages to touch our common strangeness, our shared uniqueness - that great human paradox - building bridges between disparate souls, communicating to the lost, assuaging the bereaved, giving wild and romantic companionship to the lonely and wandering. This is true of the art of the many-named, big-hearted, roguish and heroic songwriter who many know as Felix Hatfield.
Felix is a character, a vagabond, a poet, a roustabout and puppeteer who has trained his eye to find beauty in the world’s detritus, both human and otherwise, and turn that beauty into songs - songs of false gods, armless fiddlers, lost cats and unicorn women. He creates worlds, fairytales that seem to have always existed, then surprises you with a relatable tale about thrift-store shopping with a sexy friend. There’s a touch of the folksy past - that old, weird America - but none of the cliched nostalgia that weighs down some “Americana” music. Jack Johnson might show up, Buster Keaton or Ernest Shackleton, there may be hobos or moonshiners, but everything is seen through a fun-house mirror, both distorted and somehow clarified by Felix’s warm, compassionate perspective. His songs sound neither ancient nor modern, but timeless, like falling in love, or grieving, or noticing the sheen on a bluebird's feathers in a moment of sudden clarity.
He’s an able guitar picker who has clearly studied Woody Guthrie and Mother Maybelle. He sings in a friendly, conversational baritone that brings his words to life. His melodies are sharp, catchy, and accessible. And as steeped in true-blue weirdness as his songs are, they’re proudly accessible, hummable, studiously-crafted by a practiced songsmith.
Rumor has it that Felix has a new record coming out that will take this accessibility to a new level, with fleshed-out full-band arrangements, horns, crisp production. This is to be celebrated. Felix Hatfield shouldn’t be shunted off to a corner with the “outsider artists.” The man is an insider, a genuine insider, inside of the human experience and looking out, then wrapping it all up in incredible songs that the world needs to hear.
Every now and then, a true artist breaks out in the popular culture. My money’s on Felix. The world is getting stranger and he’s the man to guide us through it.
- Will Stenberg