Patrick Wolf talks new single ‘Limbo’ and “forward-facing” return

Patrick Wolf has spoken to NME about his new single ‘Limbo’, and being “very forward-facing now” following a long-awaited return to music. Listen to the track and read the full interview below.

The sprawling “summer gothic road trip of a song” is the only cut on ‘Crying The Neck’ – Wolf’s first album in 13 years – about a romantic relationship. He told NME that he was instead focused on a period of “anticipating loss” and experiencing “grief in slow motion”, in the wake of his mother’s cancer diagnosis and subsequent death.

“There was so much survival and transference of survival energy to other people, that romance had no space in my writing,” Wolf explained. The multi-instumentalist described his previous album, 2011’s ‘Lupercalia’, as a “dedication to one person”.

“It was very much the romantic bubble, created by two people completely obsessed with each other,” he added. “I knew after that I was definitely going to have to explore other things.”

However, he eventually picked up on the “narrative of interpersonal relationships” that spans his entire catalogue – which began when he was just 19-years-old.

“I thought it would be a real shame not to address what happened at the end of ‘Lupercalia’, to the lovers and where they are now: in a car, arguing with each other,” Wolf told NME of ‘Limbo’. “I was thinking, ‘Do I take this off the record? Does this belong?’

“And then I realised I was making an album that was a series of responses to death, decay and loss. You have the loss and decay of national identity, the loss of England, the loss and decay of your mother, and a relationship under a lot of pressure. It seemed to work really perfectly on the album, but that was all I needed to say about it.”

Wolf drew inspiration and solace from his surroundings when making ‘Crying The Neck’, taking a deep dive into the East Kentish landscape and local folklore. “Geographically, the album goes north to the Isle Of Grain down to Dover,” he told NME. “When I moved down here, the first thing I wanted to do was learn the land, and not be like a tourist.

“I went about buying out of print folklore books, handmade pamphlets by old East Kent historians, and going from museum to small museum. The job of a folklorist is to take a story that is about to vanish and make it come alive again. I think I did my job on this record, definitely. I got as much of what was a vanishing world into the lyrics as possible.”

Check out our full interview below, where Wolf also tells us about his years away from the spotlight, compares the ‘Crying The Neck’ artwork to his first-ever NME shoot, shares his thoughts on the ’00s indie resurgence, and looks ahead to a future free of nostalgia.

NME: Hello, Patrick. How did the collaboration with Zola Jesus come about? Was ‘Limbo’ always intended to be a duet? 

Patrick Wolf: “It was always a duet. I wanted it to be like a kind of Lee Hazlewood and Nancy Sinatra duet. People don’t really write them anymore, but it’s very conversational. I was trying to be as realistic as possible about a couple talking over the top of each other, finishing each other’s sentences – disrespectfully – and reading into each other’s silences. Things aren’t said and sentences aren’t finished.

“I needed someone that would match my volume and depth. Zola and I have been internet pen friends since her first album came out. We kept meaning to meet up and go to each other’s shows, but we kept missing each other. When I got sober I used to listen to her. She was always a voice of that period of rebuilding my relationship with writing, nature and my health. I was scared to ask her but it was an immediate, ‘Let’s do it’. It happened very quickly, and it was very beautiful. It was always meant to be her voice.”

What did you get up to during your years away from music?

“I still played viola in Patti Smith‘s band. I probably did about 50 shows, minimum, with her. I had a booking agent that kept me on the road, and I’d play out of the way, like Istanbul Jazz Festival. I kept away, very quietly and very privately, but couldn’t finish any work.

“That wasn’t until the day I stopped drinking – a complete abstinence from everything – and started from scratch. That dovetailed with psychotherapy, recovery and rehabilitation. It all comes with moving out of London and starting a garden, swimming in the sea every day, running… There’s probably a great synchronicity between getting the keys to this studio at the end of my garden, putting my work into a place where I respected it, and balancing that with getting my hands dirty in the garden. At the age of 40 I learned to drive. In sobriety, you end up catching up for lost time. So I was doing a lot of things that most people would have done in their 20s at 40.”

‘Crying The Neck’ is the first album of a four-part project. Was it a challenge to create one concise record, having been through so much in the past decade?

“An album like ‘Wind In The Wires’ [2005], which was my second album, was made after clearing all my teenage work out of the way. It was very concise. ‘The Magic Position’ [2007] was like that too. They were like bio-domes. I knew at that time I was going to make an album every year and a half, so I was able to take things off and make these very concise worlds.

“That’s what I can get back to doing now. ‘Crying The Neck’ is very much a bio-dome of an album, and categorising it into four different types of album is very exciting for me. I like to make these very concise worlds.”

You began writing opener ‘Reculver’ when you were 16. How was it revisiting material from that point in your life?

“It’s been the same melody and the same set of vowels and consonants since I was 16. It used to be about Eustacia Vye from The Return Of The Native. I used to imagine that I was her, and I’d walk in the hills, in the storm, and think that I was this woman. I didn’t really relate to that when I was 39. I definitely love that version of my life, and I’m very fond of that boy.

“When I was trying to find a home here in East Kent, every time I would come down and look for a house, I passed Reculver [towers]. It was a really beautiful thread to pick up with. It’s the same opening few lines. I wanted to write an epic poem of a song. It’s a song that says, ‘This is where I’ve been’, ‘This is where I am’, and ‘This is where I’m going’. It does feel like a kind of biopic, and also takes the piss out of the victimhood I slipped into in the last 10 years.”

It feels like you’ve really immersed yourself in the whole project. 

“I was actually thinking about my first NME shoot. I was lying down at Vauxhall City Farm in a hay bale when I was 18 or 19. When we were doing the [‘Crying The Neck’] artwork, I was lying down in a hay bale with blonde hair and clothes I had made myself. Back when I did that NME issue, I had made all those clothes myself as well. I wanted to make all the clothes, be the only writer, art director. I had so much time to do that stuff.

“Then my life became a lot more about touring, publicity, hedonism and Z-list celebrity status. A lot took over from my art and my craft. Right now I’m making all the props, all the clothes. I’ve made the inside of the artwork, and I’m rolling that out to the tour. I can tell when insanity stepped into my life: when I lost touch with doing these things, because it brings me a lot of joy.”

What can fans expect from the shows?

“I’m trying to build a world – it’s all based on East Kent folklore. I’ve got my mother’s sewing machine out, and I have been extremely productive. I have an amazing accordion player who also plays dulcimer; she’s an amazing folklorist folk musician. I have an amazing string player, and she plays five-string viola and violin. My tour manager is gonna join in halfway through and bring live rhythm. I’ve now got all the instruments in place.”

Are you reimagining any of your older material to fit this context?

“There are going to be a lot of ‘Wind In The Wires’ [songs] because it’s the only other album that is nautical, and is based within nature and folklore. My shows are now two hours long because there’s so much work to cover. We’re gonna start in a folk music world, and by the end it’s gonna be like a full-on synth odyssey party. I want it to be like a futuristic barn dance, electronic nightmare world. It’s gonna be an experience, definitely. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

You had cult status in the ’00s when indie was at its height. Do you feel like you ever belonged to that scene? 

“I’ve never felt like I belonged in any of the music industry, to be honest! I wonder if I’ll feel like that for the rest of my life. But I’ve never been on Jools Holland, I’ve never had a Mercury nomination – I don’t get invited to any of these things. I think I can claim outsider status quite authentically! [Laughs].

“But I sit very comfortably in this place. During that whole NME frenzy – I’ve always felt very respected by the NME – I felt like I belonged in that magazine, and I belonged in my place in culture. I deserved [it] with my work. But I don’t belong to any particular movement. You’d be very hard pressed to trace me to any of it. All my favourite artists managed to achieve that as well, so I think my teenage self would be proud.

“I feel like an advocate and ambassador for the work. I’m like, ‘Hey, come on! Give me a seat at the table’, but it’s not me. It’s like, ‘Give my work a seat at the table’. But I’m very happy on the margin.”

There’s a lot of nostalgia for ’00s ‘indie sleaze’ at the moment. How do you feel about the resurgence?

“If anything’s gonna make me shudder, it’s nostalgia. I would rather run myself over than do a ’00s [tour] or something to do with that time. I’m very forward-facing now. I think it’s very important for artists to be, unless you feel you’ve nothing left to say. The world needs forward motion. There’s so much regressiveness going on in politics and culture, that we need forward-facing energy from everybody right now. There’s a lyric on my new album: ‘Stare at the past too long, to there you’ll disappear‘.”

What do you hope to achieve in this second phase of your career? 

“One of the best things I learned in my recovery is to lower my expectations, which means less disappointment. I have absolutely no interest in being a famous person. I’d love my work to reach a wider audience, of course. But I believe if the work is good, the right people will hear it. If you’re proud of it, you can be a good advocate for your work. I have such a wider sense of pride 1742299566. To start at such a young age and to persist with all that…”

“My only ambition right now is to make the next album. I’ve got very realistic and meagre ambitions. The life I have here, I’m so very grateful for it. It’s very quiet and it’s very peaceful. I hope I don’t disrupt that peace by coming back to work.”

Patrick Wolf releases ‘Crying The Neck’ on June 13 via Apport/Virgin Music (pre-order-pre-save here). His UK and European headline tour kicks off in May – find any remaining tickets here (UK).