I love Kilkenny Roots. Not only is it in one of the nicest places, the shows and its atmosphere are spread out throughout the town. It’s big enough to have some great names each year, and small enough to be standing next to some of them while seeing someone else perform. This year, in the first weekend of May, one of those artists was Lizzie No, who also joined us at the Smithwicks Experience during the day to record Deadbeat, Silverado (combined with Kehlani’s Gangsta) and Aimee Mann’s Red Vines.
The candy store of Aimee Mann
The choice to cover Aimee Mann’s Red Vines came through collaboration with guitarist Will Greene, though sorting through Mann’s catalogue presented its own delightful challenge. “Sorting through her catalog felt like browsing a candy store; there are so many excellent Aimee Mann songs that it was hard to pick,” No reflects.
What draws them to Mann runs deeper than song selection. “Aimee Mann is one of my favorite living songwriters. Her stories feel lived-in because of her attention to detail both in the lyrics and in arrangement choices. And she has one of my favorite voices.”
The specific choice of Red Vines offered something more immediate, a chance for musical dialogue. “Red Vines gave us a chance to dial in a harp-guitar dialogue that was really fun.” But it’s Mann’s ability to capture private heartbreak that really hooks No: “I’m the only one who knows that Disneyland’s about to close’ hooks into my heart every time. What a perfect private little heartbreak. When I sing that lyric I imagine myself in the backseat of the car, looking out the window in the parking lot, moments before being disappointed.”
The real fascination begins where the myth meets reality.
There’s something about the way Lizzie No approaches a cover song; carefully excavating layers of meaning until she reaches something essential. When they recorded Kehlani’s Gangsta paired with No’s own Silverado for The Influences, they were not just choosing songs they liked. They were exploring the complex mythology of masculinity through the lens of women’s voices.
“Within the library of music written or performed by women, the gangsta holds similar symbolism to the cowboy, especially when he is the subject of romantic desire,” No explains. “He is a complex character just out of frame, whose magnetism derives from living in opposition to mainstream social norms. He represents the aspects of American masculinity from which our national myths are made.”
But for Lizzie No, the real fascination begins where the myth meets reality. “When we leave the world of lyrics and enter the real world, the outlaw is a human person. I’ve always been interested in those moments where the rubber meets the road when it comes to masculinity. Where do our aspirational ideas of what a man is conflict with what life requires of real, contemporary men who live in relationship, in community, in historical context? And is there any room left for romance?”
This intersection runs through their work like a thread, particularly visible in characters like Miss Freedomland from the concept album Halfsies. “I try to pay attention when a woman writer’s subjectivity interrupts outdated scripts about men