Lowell Brams was married to Sufjan Stevens’ mother, Carrie, for five years in the early 1980s. She dealt with depression, schizophrenia, and alcoholism throughout her life, and initially abandoned Stevens’ family when he was one. But after Lowell entered the picture, Carrie reconnected with her kids, and he seemed to provide Stevens and his siblings with the most stable times of their childhood, especially three summers they spent together with he and Carrie in Eugene, Oregon. Inside Carrie & Lowell, which features lyrics steeped in imagery from Eugene, there’s a photo of Carrie crocheting. You see the reflection of Lowell in a mirror, holding a camera: He has this gentle, observant, slightly out of the frame presence on the record, too.
In my review of Carrie & Lowell, I reflected on another photo in the liner notes depicting a young Sufjan eating a banana, and noted that Carrie’s eyes aren’t on him: "She's not looking at him, but she's there...It's a haunting feeling that this little kid, years later, would create a masterpiece so knowing about suffering, sadness, death, and loneliness." Shortly after its publication, I received a note from Brams, who wanted to make sure I knew that Carrie’s eyes weren’t on her son “because there were three other kids under 10 years old at the table. Quite a handful." I found it touching that, years after Carrie’s death, and the end of his marriage to her, he wanted to make sure I knew she wasn’t a bad person.
As a testament to his ongoing relationship with his stepson, Brams co-founded Asthmatic Kitty in 1998, and the two have recorded electronic music together, like on 2009’s Music for Insomnia. As the press blurb for that release reads, "Lowell Brams was raised in West Alexandria and Dayton, Ohio. He met Sufjan Stevens in Detroit, Michigan, in 1976, but Sufjan was eleven months old and doesn’t remember it. After Lowell and Sufjan’s mother married, they re-met in 1980 in Eugene, Oregon, have been friends since then."
Brams answered the phone at Asthmatic Kitty’s Wyoming office when I called to talk to him about Carrie & Lowell last month.
Pitchfork: Has hearing the album maybe brought any memories back?
Lowell Brams: No, I don't think I've forgotten that much about the summers he and his siblings stayed with us. Those are very vivid memories and the best memories from a marriage that ultimately didn't work out. So there wasn't anything I had forgotten. [On the album] he mentions being left in a video store, that I never heard about before, and I'm pretty certain it did not happen when they were visiting us. Because I would have heard about it, but I guess it happened somewhere else. Maybe in Detroit [where Stevens grew up]. I don't know.
Pitchfork: Did Sufjan talk to you about the album as he was working on it? Was it something you were aware was happening and have you talked about it since?
LB: We, no we didn't talk about it when he was working on it. I didn't really know what he was working on as far as his next album. But then I went to New York, and I think that's when we were finishing up another electronic noise album that we had been working on off and on for about five years. He told me about the album, and his idea of you know using the title and the photograph. And asked me if it was okay with me. And I said yes it was. And, you know, it’s not something I really had to think about too much. I understood immediately that here was something, there was going to be a little light shined on part of my life that was private, and just shared with a few people including him and his siblings and some other relatives of his mother's, and that it was his creative choice. I've learned if I'm questioning his creative choices, it later turns out I was wrong. I learned that some time ago, so, you know, I thought, Okay. And we talked about the album, but more in terms just in how it came about. He's said in interviews that the person listed as the co-producer, Thomas Bartlett, sort of came up with the idea after hearing a lot of material that Sufjan had recorded. So we've talked about that. But as far as what the songs are about, to me, it's kind of self-explanatory.
That's a real long answer to what really the answer is no. No, haven't really talked to him about the content. I understand what he's talking about. Most of the time. But of course I didn't know about everything on there. As far as what refers to his summers in Oregon with his mother and me, like I said, I didn't really need to ask him about that even if I'm not totally sure what he means.
Pitchfork: When you go to see him perform live, is it difficult, or at this point have you spent enough time with the record? I've gone and seen him perform it live, and the guy next to me was crying. People were getting very emotional, so I can imagine if the songs are actually written about you, it must be a complicated thing.
LB: It is. And the first time or two I cried as well. And then I sort of stopped crying. But it was, it never ceases to be, reaching very deep. And touches on emotions that are still pretty raw, during some of the songs that are most specifically about his mother. Do you remember how they were projecting films in the back, and other things? Well, the films of his mother, that's kind of hard for me to take. But I survived. It's a strange experience. But also fulfilling.
Pitchfork: Has the album changed your relationship with Sufjan at all? Or when you think back, has it changed the way you think of your time with Carrie?
LB: No I don't think it has really. Sufjan and I have obviously been working together on the label since ’98. So we've been in close touch, it hasn't really changed anything. And as far as how I think about Carrie, maybe, the one downside to it is that, here in our office where we do our shipping, part of the album coming out—photos of her were something that I saw once in awhile when I looked through my [photo] albums. So the album comes out, and here in our office every time I turn around I'm seeing this photo of the two of us, his mother and me, and that has been a little difficult. But it's all outweighed by the fact that the album is so good, and has been well-received. I'm turning 65 next March, and I'm in the process of trying to retire from day to day work at the label. And so it's a nice note to go out on. To have an album that's been successful in every way. And to have that link to it. That special link. But, to try to go back answer part of your question, no I don't think it's really changed how I think about our marriage. It happened the way it happened and it was too bad. But, hell, we tried. I’d already known her for 12 years before we got married. It was something we really thought would work but ultimately it didn't.
Pitchfork: What are your plans after retirement?
LB: Read and write. And try to make some more electronic music without having to go to Sufjan's studio in New York. It's great recording with him but I have to go to New York to do it. Those things—and just taking care of myself. I really thought I’d be able to retire when I was 70, that I was just going to zoom on through, but health issues came up and I can't do that. So I'm going to take care of myself, too.
The label’s been an incredible experience but also a burn out. We've had a lot of success, and artistically I think we've been a 99% success. I'm proud of pretty much everything we've put out. But, I'm sure you know enough about it: It's hard. You're very hopeful that a particular artist is going to catch on or a particular album and it doesn't happen. But that's the business. That's the way it is. And you can't really change anybody's mind; you just offer it and see what happens. So there’ve been disappointments, but artistically it's been great and I'm really proud of it, what the label’s released.
Pitchfork: You're going to build a studio around you so you don't have to go to New York all of the time?
LB: Well, we’ll set something up in whatever space I can find in the house. Maybe I'll set it up here in the office. And I've got enough books that I want to read that it'll take me another lifetime. Gonna keep doing that. And hope to do some writing, too.
Pitchfork: It must be satisfying to be spoken of so fondly by Sufjan in interviews, and to be a heroic figure on the record.
LB: Well, I don't know about heroic but...when his mother and I split up it was, it seemed to me that it was unlikely that he and his brothers and sisters were going to get to spend a lot of time with her after that. And I wanted to be a connection for them to her. It ended up oddly that I moved from Oregon and ended up in Michigan in the lower part of the state, and they were in the upper part, but it wasn't that hard to visit. And their father and stepmother were very gracious and always allowed me to visit. So I just wanted to be a part of their life; it was heartbreaking that those times that they spent with us couldn't continue, and heartbreaking that it didn't seem they weren't going to be able to spend much time with her, and she was not going to be in a situation when she was with me where she could have them sometimes. So, the album helped confirm that I did something right there. And it's gratifying he appreciated it. I know they all appreciated it. They're all grown up now. And have kids and all. But it was a confusing time for them. And most confusing for Sufjan because he was the youngest. He's with his mother, and then he's not with his mother, and then he’s with his mother again with me, and then that changes. You know, he was very young and it was really confusing. And then on her death, it just all came back to him.
Pitchfork: Do you like the album?
LB: Oh yeah. I'm proud to be associated with it, even though it's not my music. It’s just as good as anything he's ever done. And having seen the reviews, and having been at five of the shows where he played the entire album, it's clear that it's something that really reaches people, going beyond his personal story. There are so many universal themes on the album. It's just beautifully done, too. It was a while before I could listen to it without crying. But it also makes people cry who didn't know his mother.