Julianna Barwick works alone. Instead of cramming into a practice space or collaborating with musician friends, she sits cross-legged on a bed that takes up most of the space in her Greenpoint room. Behind rose-patterned curtains, she layers her voice through a loop station that transforms her lonely soprano into an ethereal choir.
A former singer in the Tulsa Opera, Barwick has gone from Oklahoma choirgirl to Brooklyn soloist. By day she baby sits two toddlers, but by night she plays music. Her quiet lifestyle gives her the freedom to experiment in her compositions without feeling self-conscious. A sense of exploration is clear in her December EP, Florine, that has earned her shows with Dirty Projectors, Au and Holly Miranda among others as well as high praise—The New York Times said she has the “oddball allure of Bjork or Yoko Ono.”
At turns, Barwick’s voice sounds like an angel yawning or a kitten calling. Her wisps of sound start sharp and focused, then loop repeatedly, balloon skyward and reverberate, outlining the high rafters of a cathedral. In songs such as “Cloudbank,” the effect is chilling. But in songs like the African-influenced “The Highest,” Barwick doesn’t sound alone. Rather, she seems reverent for the warmth of open voices in harmony, which she calls “one of the best things a group of humans can do.”
Despite her childhood spent in Oklahoma operas and choruses, Barwick says she would rather sing solo than continue playing with a group. “It’s really satisfying to come up with my stuff and do it myself, and not worry about the dynamic of a band. It’s simpler,” Barwick says over tea at The Pink Pony on Ludlow Street. “If something goes wrong, I don’t have anyone to blame but myself. It’s kind of nice.”
On this cold Saturday night, Barwick covers her loosely braided hair with a black hoodie. She’s just finished dinner with her close friend Sergio Hydalgo, creator and host of the Lisbon-based radio blog "Má Fama" who helped launch her music career and reaffirmed her desire to tour independently. In 2007, Barwick heard Hydalgo interview Animal Collective’s Panda Bear and commented on his show online. Hydalgo listened to Barwick’s songs on MySpace and invited her to record an interview and studio session in Lisbon.
“I went over there alone, not knowing who I was going to meet,” she says. “It was the most exhilarating feeling.” Barwick, 30, then went on an eight-week tour through Europe that left her more starry-eyed than her days as a soprano in the choir. She “got out of Oklahoma” to find this kind of energy.
Until 2001, Barwick had recorded with Tulsa friends and balanced her opera gigs with rocker tendencies. She remembers showing up late to a Morrissey concert in Egyptian makeup, having come from an Aida dress rehearsal. After visiting a friend in New York, she decided it was time to move on.
“My best friend liked it here and jokingly said, ‘I need a roommate, you should live here,’” Barwick remembers, “and I said, ‘OK!’ I didn’t know what I wanted to do, I just knew I wanted to do something in the arts, and I loved the energy here.”
She got her photography degree from Hunter College in 2005, and throughout school, performed at a regular dinner with friends. It was there that Barwick started experimenting with the electric guitar and loop station, but she “wasn’t totally inspired. I couldn’t think of lyrics to commit myself to.”
Influenced by the musicians she loved in her youth—Tori Amos, Mariah Carey, Thom Yorke—and the holy sound of her choirs, Barwick started recording her voice without lyrics. It was an original move for a female solo artist that earned her recognition in experimental music circles.
Now, Barwick listens to fellow experimental composers and feels comfortable singing without a guitar or drums to back her voice. “I love a capella music, choirs with or without orchestra,” she says. “The emotions that come across when a group of people sing like that together is my favorite musical combination: melancholy and beautiful. I also love joyful, triumphant sounds. I’m not so into angry or scary music at all.”
Her calm nature comes in handy while babysitting. She spends her days with two kids, a toddler and infant, and says that their unselfconscious nature inspires her to be singular-minded when composing.
“Most kids have a carefree total lack of self-consciousness, she says. “They bob along and see if the want to do something. They don’t get bogged down by worries or insecurities.”
As opposed to working as a photographer’s assistant, babysitting is “the perfect fit” because the parents understand if she needs to leave early to record. “I don’t want to be a jack of all trades,” she says, “I want to focus on one thing.”
>Juliana Barwick
Dec. 17, Cameo Gallery, 93 N. 6th St. (betw. Berry St. & Wythe Ave.), Brooklyn, no phone; 8, $8
