Austin Stambaugh is a songwriter and storyteller based in Nashville, distinguished by his introspective folk ballads. Following the recent release of Speechmythology, a collection of musical short stories, I interviewed Stambaugh, discussing the collection along with his other musical creations, diving into his inspirations and storytelling sensibilities. Read the interview below.
Being the skilled storyteller that you are, I want to start things off by asking, when did you start storytelling? Did you start writing stories at a young age?
Yeah, I did. I started writing stories at a young age. I always thought it was cool to see people's names and faces on books. I remember, in the second grade – that’s probably as early as it goes back. In the second grade, me and my friend Dylan were trying to write this book about aliens, and the teacher just kind of let us do what we were doing, and we kind of got special treatment because we were nerds in the corner, just taking a stapler and stapling together a bunch of computer paper to make comic books. Yeah, that's all kind of where it seemed to start, I guess.
That's so cool. I also used to write little books when I was little so that definitely resonates for sure. When did music come into the picture for you?
It was probably about the same time. Well, maybe it was a little after. I started playing guitar when I was 10, and it just was a weird thing – I just kind of knew what I wanted to do. I guess I was making fake books before that, but right around the same time … I started playing the guitar, and just kept doing it, and I became obsessed with it. Then it all weaved together somewhere.
When did you start songwriting, fusing the two together?
I didn't really start writing story songs until later, because that kind of takes a little bit of an identity. I started writing songs when I was in the sixth grade because I was in a pop-punk band with my friends. [We wrote] some little song, and it just kind of sounded like the music they were listening to, which was, at the time, Blink 182 and there was a big emo phase with Hawthorne Heights and all that. I’d say sixth grade is when I started writing songs.
I want to talk about your new spoken word album, Speechmythology, which fuses the two impeccably. What was the overall process of creating that album?
The process was two ways. It was an exploration for me because I didn't know what would work best, the two thought schools being record a live band first, and then overdub my reading over the music so that it would have a kind of cadence to the band, so I tried that way. And then the second way I tried was just reading without music first, and then I could go and overdub me playing guitar with a dobro … there was the music first or the words first. I tried them both, and I found out that it sounded better to me if I did the voice first, my goal being to write how I normally talk. So that's kind of how I wanted to write it. I wanted to just tell it how I normally would speak. And that way my own character could come through all the style thing –
it sounded more natural if it was that way.
So you recorded the voice first, and then created the music to accompany that?
I did that for most of the longer stories. There are a few stories where it was music first, but I kind of just played them all against each other.
That’s really interesting. I was wondering which came first because that's a big thing; one can definitely influence the other.
I had the music before, but then I tried tracking with a live band first, and I didn't feel like it suited a lot of the longer, kind of sadder stories. So I redid them, and it ended up being more of a vocal first album.
I noticed that a lot of the stories seem to convey a day in the life of working-class Americans, so I was wondering, what has drawn you to write about certain people and topics?
I just feel a big obligation to write about people. In the first story, “” The Long Letter To The Ford Motor Company,” that's just a hilarious inside joke to myself, because I grew up around auto mechanics, and then I used the real people's names in the story too, so I kind of wanted to immortalize them. I felt like somebody needed to say something about them, so I did. It’s sort of like when somebody dies and then you read their obituary in the paper, and you're like, oh, come on, that could have been way better, you know?
Yes, for sure. On the other hand, a lot of the stories seem to encapsulate something bigger – “Cheryl Vondelen & The Bus Five Route” for instance, reflecting on how friendships change over time. How personal are these stories to you?
They're extremely personal, and they used people's real names, but I didn't try to exploit them or anything. So, yeah, that's a real story about the first time that it kind of occurred to me, death. I was kind of going along with the crowd of, hey, this lady sucks, you know, this lady used to yell at us when we were kids, and she was our bus driver, but then it was a very serious thing. No, she's dead, you know? And it just left an imprint on me. One day when I was writing, I just remembered that. I remembered something that happened, and then I was able to write it out quickly and try to get the specifics just by the stream of consciousness, and then I … edited it down and made it along – top to bottom thing.
What’s your personal favorite story from the album?
My personal favorite is probably that story about the bus driver, Cheryl, “Cheryl Vondelen & The Bus Five Route.” It's a sweet story, and I was able to incorporate the sound of a rainstorm tube at the end, and the rainstorm goes on for longer than you think, and there's a little dissonance in it. It was a really beautiful project. I'm really happy I got to experiment with that.
You’ve been making music for a while, and you have a very versatile discography, in my opinion. How would you say you’ve evolved in your craft over time?
I've evolved in my craft because when I started, it was mainly doing what I thought people would think was cool. Then as you go along, you start to realize the weight of what you're doing, and you realize that you can't just put on a cowboy hat and memorize all these Ray Price songs and go sing up there at Honky Tonk night. I mean, you can, but it becomes more of like, what am I doing here on this planet Earth? Who am I really trying to become, and who am I really trying to sing about? So I just find ways to set my own conscience free now, because if there's something in my head and I feel like I have to write about somebody, or I have to get this song down, I'll take that, and it becomes more of a me-with-my-eyes-closed-in-the-world kind of feeling.
Considering you’ve created another spoken word album before, Fool Talkin’, would you consider Speechmythology an evolution from Fool Talkin’, or an extension of those stories?
Yeah, it's an evolution. It's just a broader scale. The other one was during COVID, and I didn't have access to anything or anyone, really, and I just drove in North North Carolina, where my friend Mark lived. He had this really rundown house that they've since torn down, and we were socially distanced, but I was in the other room, and I could not write a song to save my life. I always am the poster child of putting myself under immense pressure. I'll wait for the last minute all the time. I'll always make it such a horrible task to get something done.
I do that, too. I’m guilty!
I had to write an album of all songs. And I was like, okay, I'm in Asheville, North Carolina. I should be able to turn out an album in 12 days if I really sit and write. But I just couldn't write a song. Then I found all these stories that I had, and I had it in my head to do something with the stories. Before you know it, I started reading the stories while playing guitar at the same time, and then I recorded that, and that became Fool Talkin’. That's a really lovely record, I love it. It's probably the thing I'm most proud of. But Speechmythology is like the 2.0 version because some people have got on board and it's inspired other people. So I like to break it up because those are the two worlds that I walk through; there's the melody in the song, and then there's the story, and the story … some of them are easier, some of them are harder, but I found a way to kind of make it along in this world. I can communicate with other people in more ways than just a catchy song.
Absolutely. So on the singing side of things, you collaborated with Chris Emmert earlier this year, making a folksy, Americana-influenced album, Emmert & Stambaugh. What was that like?
Cool! Thanks for asking, too. Since I moved to Nashville – I moved here five years ago – it's been a strange Odyssey. I've basically just met a lot of wonderful people. And me and my friend Chris, we met at a songwriter night that I was doing at the Post 82 a few years back. When this weekly event we used to go to had its day and it closed, we decided to still get together once a week, and then we started writing songs once a week, together. Over the course of a year, and some change, we had a bunch of songs, and then we just tracked them as a duo, and that was our album of all 50/50 co-writes.
That’s so cool, especially hearing that it was so collaborative. Were you recording that and Speechmythology at the same time?
Yeah, I was. I started recording Speechmythology in September of last year … and I had that on the burner for a little while, but it was still stuck in post-process. Then, because this year was a big year for me, I wanted to take out the electric band and do that. It's just been a busy year and, yeah, I've had Speechmythology for a little while – like a year.
Were you playing guitar on Speechmythology?
Yeah!
It’s great, by the way, the musicality of it. What things inspire you to create music and write – just in general, what are your inspirations?
I love all kinds of different writers and all kinds of different musicians. I mean, I'm a huge Bob Dylan fan.
Oh, me too.
I always seem to be comparing myself to Bob Dylan in ways because he was so prolific for his time, and was like the first one to really do it. I always have to think about this world that I'm in now – there's no way we can replicate our heroes, so we have to be easy on ourselves when we compare ourselves to others. But for some reason I really love projects; I think, okay, what am I going to be doing next June? How's about this? How about I scribble down some songs, and I'll be able to write maybe two great songs at the expense of six experimental songs, you know what I mean? That way I'll be able to craft a full catalog or an album around an idea. I really like that approach; it almost feels more of like an A to B point, like, I'm here at point A now, and I have this influx of urges or little hooks, or you'd be walking through the grocery store, and you'll say, wow, you might hear something in your head, and then you write it down. How can I take point A and then get to point B? It seems just like a big old traveling – it just feels like traveling. I guess that that's what inspires me, the travel.
Do you gravitate toward concept albums and such?
I love concept albums. Yes, I do. I like for things to sound like they're on the same record. Right now is just a pretty good time for that and for figuring out what's next. I’m going to go to Europe next year, for the first time, and I'll do a blended set. I'll do ballads like I normally do and whistle, and then I'll incorporate two or three stories in each set that way it can be a blended, hour-long concert.
I feel like concerts should definitely be immersive experiences like that.
Yeah, it's been working out, all right … I was at the Mercury Lounge in Tulsa just this past Sunday.
How was that?
It was awesome. It's so nice when you can do something different than other people who are your peers. It's the same story; it's like you go up on stage and you sing a song that you love, and the people at the bar are the same people at the bar always, and then you are skeptical of you as a performer, but you sing what you mean, and then you whistle too, and then you bust out a story. It kind of like blows their mind a little bit, or they hate it, or they love it.
But they have a reaction regardless.
They had a reaction. And some people at the end of the show will say, I really like your stories, like no one's ever done that before, and then that's what gets to them. But at the expense of everything else, it's either some people like the stories or the songs, you know? I get to do both things, which is cool.
For sure. Now, I saw that you performed in Austin last month, is that correct?
That is totally correct.
That’s where KVRX is based, so I was wondering, how was performing in Austin?
That was an incredible time. This year, I released an EP called Way Down Here on Earth [with] the electric band that I've called The Electric Weepers … and we did a summer tour this year. As far as Texas goes, my big goal this fall was to take my Telecaster in the electric elements, and I wanted to go play at Sam's Town Point with a pickup band of Texas musicians … I called the band The Texas Weepers and that’s what I did. Ramsey had me open for him two Saturdays in a row, which was awesome. I was pretty scared because I was breaking into a new – I've always come to Austin and played at the Hole in the Wall. But this year was more like, get on the road and just play some electric music.
What are the differences you’ve noticed between the music scene in Nashville and the music scene in Austin?
I think it's kind of the same. I feel like we're at a war with ourselves, with how jaded we can be, or become, because there are the same people in Nashville as there are in Austin. There are people that are in the establishment, and they're at a hipster core of the establishment, and they kind of pigeonhole themselves to a small clique … that's how Nashville and Austin is, it seems … I'm not calling anyone out in particular … everyone is so proud to be from Nashville. Everyone's so proud to be in Austin, and it's kind of like the same. But me, I'm in Nashville now because it's a little close to Ohio, and I like green trees, and it's just a central spot, and [there are] four seasons here. I try and just breeze in and do what I have to do at the time.
Four seasons is nice. I’m jealous.
As far as Austin and Nashville go, to me, they have to remain the same place. It's just the world versus your own conscience, really. So they're the same place to me, but to other people, they might have different things to say.
You’re from Ohio, right? How has Ohio influenced your music?
Ohio has greatly influenced my music. It's given me a setting to fall back on when I need to write a location, or, I guess, anywhere could be that way, but I'll tell you how it really has influenced my life today. Five years ago,I left Cleveland, Ohio to move to Nashville, and I didn't know anybody. I knew a few people through bands that I played in, but I didn't really know anybody. I moved down by myself, and since then, all of my friends have moved down here too. We used to play in a country band called Corey Grinder and the Playboy Scouts. They're on Spotify if you want to listen to them. That's our old band, and that's where I first started wearing a cowboy hat and started getting into country music and playing it on the guitar. Then I left to be a songwriter on my own. [A few] years later, a lot of my brothers from that same band have met their own dead ends in Ohio, and they've moved to Nashville, too. They've done really well; my friend Tebs is the steel player for Lost Dog Street Band right now … so it seems like a strange trip, and now I'm here with all my friends. It's really, really, really cool.
It's like, you have that origin, but you also moved away and explored your music.
Yeah. And there’s a different Ohio sound. I think there's something very dark and angry, but like, kind of pretty coming out of Ohio.
What are some things you do when you’re not creating or performing music?
When I'm not creating or performing music, I’m faced with the reality of the money system. I have to diligently work at making money so that I can pay for vinyl or go on tour – I can pay for the life that it takes, so I just work. Right now I'm a Lyft driver, which is pretty cool, and I really like getting to talk to people, so I do that on the side, and sometimes I'll do little odd jobs. I've done pretty much everything. I've fixed houses from the ground up and gotten in the crawl space, and I've done all kinds of jobs just because I wanted to prove I was a man and I liked work … Woody Guthrie has this song called “Talking Hard Work.” If you listen to it, that's what I was pointing at. He's like, yeah, I did all these things, all because I wanted to prove I like to work … he’s like, I ain't got nowhere yet, but I got there by hard work.
I should check it out. But yeah, it’s cool that you’re still constantly making music and pursuing that art.
Always … if you stay up to date, the next year is gonna be really awesome. I recorded a lot of music this year.
That leads me to my final question, what’s next in store?
There's an Electric Weepers full-length that will come out … we recorded that in Nashville this summer. Before that, I'm going to release an Ernest Tubb tribute album.
I like some of his stuff, I will definitely be on the lookout for that.
It'll be called Sings the Ballads Of because, when I first moved to Nashville, I became friends with his old skill player, Lynn. Lynn is like a grandfather figure to me and a lot of the people here in this town. Lynn is just getting older and older, and it dawned on me that I had to record music with him, you know. I chose deep cuts, Ernest songs, and I put some minor chords in them, and I put them in a nice kind of 6/8 waltz and they’re really dark and really cool. I reworked a lot of the older Tubb songs, and I think you'll be surprised by it.
I love when people sing covers, but they kind of create their own thing within that.
And we’re recording with his steel players, so there’s some credibility to it.
Yeah, it’s like you have the originality, but also the substance of it, too.
Right. After I leave Nashville, I have to make this record, or else I would live with the regret in my heart, which boils down to the obligation of writing. It's like, why did I have this idea? Why is it killing me? And I have to do it or else I'm going to regret it for the rest of my life … you just get it done. Just got to do it. You write a story about your bus driver, you write a song about your grandpa. You record music with Lynn. That’s the way it is.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.