By Michael Swanger michael@dmcityview.com

Love of land, family is framework for William Elliott Whitmore's organic music

William Elliott Whitmore says writing a song is a lot like building a house. And if his organic sound is any indication of his skill as a "chainsaw carpenter," it should come as no surprise that he is building a cabin made of old salvage barn lumber in the woods of Southern Iowa.

"I want it to have a warm, rustic look," he says. "I'm not into too many new things."

At first glance, however, it appears everything about Whitmore is steeped in Americana, from his banjo-driven, primordial music to his love of family, land and guns. And though a research of his roots offers valuable insight into his artistic process, it is only half the story. For to know Whitmore's music is to understand not only where it comes from, as much as where it's going.

"I guess that's why artists are always pushing to create new things," Whitmore says. "They just want the world to see things how they see things."

Whitmore's perspective has been profoundly shaped by his birthplace. The 27-year-old singer-songwriter hails from a horse farm in Lee County on a 150-acre plot of family-owned land near the Mississippi River where he learned to play music from his grandfathers and parents. His father, a farmer, died after an extended bout with cancer 10 years ago and his mother died from injuries sustained in a motorcycle accident two years later. He is especially close to his grandmother, uncle and siblings who live nearby on the family's estate, where he is building his cabin. And though his new home doesn't have electricity, running water or a telephone, yet, Whitmore finds the solitude comforting. Each day he takes a short walk through the woods to collect his telephone messages and mail at his uncle's house.

"I don't know what I'd do without my kin," he says. "We all enjoy our alone time to contemplate, but we keep an eye out for each other."

Over the years, Whitmore has developed a spiritual understanding of the natural setting in which he was raised. The land, perhaps more so than any list of influential artists music writers have tried to compare him with, is what most informs his music.
"It's to me what the Black Hills are to the Lakota Indians," he says. "It's my safe haven and definitely where I get all of my inspiration from."

Maybe that's why Whitmore's music harkens back to a time when popular music used to be more regional and less of a hybrid like it is now. Though the tattoo-clad, banjo-wielding musician sings about universal themes like love, death and the plight of the common man, he is interested in how a person's environment informs their art, hence his love of hip-hop music.

"I listen to hip-hop because it gives me a window into a different world and I'm a language junkie," he says. "A lot of those guys are saying some amazing things."

Whitmore has traveled the world on the strength of the things he says, too. Each year he plays more than 250 shows in venues that range in musical style from folk to punk music. He has released two albums for Southern Records, "Hymns for the Hopeless" and "Ashes to Dust." Both albums gained critical praise for their stark imagery and emotional depth. And though he is proud to call himself an Iowan when he's on tour, he says his music isn't uniquely Iowa.

"I don't know a lot of people who are doing what I'm doing in Iowa, so I couldn't say it's an Iowa sound," he says. "It's a rural sound that could be applied to any state."

Whitmore says his third album due in May for Southern Records, "Song of the Blackbird," will be similar in thematic and sonic scope to that of his previous efforts. Actually, its release will complete a trilogy of sorts, a series of albums informed by the death of his parents.

"These three albums are the story of my life and how people come and go like the cycles of nature," he says. "I started writing songs after my parents died to help me deal with their deaths. This new album is about getting the last of it off my chest and letting the music do what it is supposed to do, which is to heal you. I'm ready to do that and start writing about different things."

The new album also reflects Whitmore's deep-seeded views on preserving the environment. And he is not shy about sharing them with anyone who will listen.

"I think people have forgotten we're just human animals and no more special than any organism," he says. "People have become too self righteous. I think the human race is getting out of control; just what we're doing to this world is crazy. We need to check ourselves and remember we're no more important than a blade of grass."

Whether it is his stance on the environment or songs about relationships or death, Whitmore hopes listeners find something positive to take away from his music.
"I want them to pull something out of it to help them in their life," he says. "If they can take one line or one aspect of one song and let it shine a flashlight in one corner of their brain, that's a good thing."

For Whitmore, such high hopes means not resting on his laurels, and pushing himself into uncharted territory as a writer. Now that he has built the foundation for his music, he can determine its height, weight and depth.

"You should never feel like you're done with anything," he says. "Whether it's music or a house, you always keep building."CV

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