Interview: Tal Wilkenfeld on ‘Love Remains,’ Collaborating with Prince and More
Although Tal Wilkenfeld started out as a guitar player, she first captivated the public through her fluid expressions on bass. In 2002, the 16-year-old musician moved to the United States from Sydney, Australia, enrolling at the LA Music Academy. At the suggestion of her teachers and colleagues, who noticed her affinity for techniques such as popping and slapping, Wilkenfeld soon switched instruments.
A few years later, she relocated to New York City and quickly embraced the city’s jazz scene. It was there that she first caught the ears of Oteil Burbridge and Derek Trucks, who invited her to join the Allman Brothers Band during their Beacon Theatre run on March 21, 2006. In a singular moment, Burbridge welcomed her to the stage, handed over his bass and, then, walked out into the audience to watch her efforts on “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” with a beatific expression on his face.
A few months later, Wilkenfeld recorded Transformation, an album of groove-laden instrumental fusion, which, along with the ABB guest stint, helped gain the attention of Jeff Beck.
At his invitation, she flew to England for an audition that yielded an offer to join the celebrated guitarist’s quartet. Wilkenfeld soon achieved a new level of notoriety through her appearance with Beck’s group at the 2007 installment of Eric Clapton’s Crossroads Guitar Festival.
Over the intervening years, Wilkenfeld has gone on to record and perform with Prince, Herbie Hancock, Mick Jagger, Billy Gibbons and many others.
Her new record, Love Remains, showcases her talents as a vocalist, guitarist and songwriter, building on her recent experiences while harkening back to her early days. Wilkenfeld produced the album with Paul Stacey (The Black Crowes, Oasis). The roster of players includes Blake Mills (Dawes, Alabama Shakes), Benmont Tench (Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers) and Zac Rae (Death Cab for Cutie). As she explains, the album’s title is a play on words: “There are a lot of songs that speak to the remnants of love or a love that’s failed but, at the end of the day, we’re all still standing no matter what we go through. So, ‘love remains.’ It’s also inspired by a lot of the Eastern teachings that I’m influenced by. I meditate and I’m just deeply inspired by Eastern teachings—Buddhism being one of them.”
Jackson Browne served as executive producer and Wilkenfeld’s 10 original songs are reminiscent of his work—not in the sonic palette, as her material is often a bit heavier, with tinges of prog-rock, but in the intimacy and candor of the lyrics. She reflects, “Everything is personal at the end of the day because everything’s filtering through your perspective. Even if a song isn’t directly about your life or is only partially about your life, it’s still coming through your lens.”
Your debut album, Transformation, was all instrumental music in more of a jazz mode. With Love Remains, you’ve added lyrics and entered the rock space. Is that progression something you had long contemplated or did it come to you more recently?
Genre-wise, I wasn’t sure exactly where I would fall when I moved to America or even when I first started playing guitar. But when I did begin playing, there were songs with words and I was writing them on a guitar. I was into rock-and-roll but I had a very limited catalog. That was when I first moved to America and was very focused on guitar because I hadn’t switched to bass yet.
I recorded my debut album as a way to express myself on my instrument and explore compositions that challenged me while, hopefully, still remaining musical. Then, sitting in with the Allman Brothers and making that album led to gigs with Jeff Beck and so many other amazing artists. At some point, though, I recognized that I wanted to go back to my roots of singing and writing songs, without knowing exactly what it would sound like. So, I went through a few years of just exploring various ways of writing.
In 2009, I played at Madison Square Garden with Jeff Beck at the [Rock & Roll] Hall of Fame 25th anniversary show. It was there that I met Jackson Browne backstage. I wasn’t yet aware of his music, although I’d heard of him because my dad told me I should check him out. I remember telling Jackson, “Oh, my dad told me all about you!” and he kind of giggled about that. I said, “I’m just starting to write songs with words again,” and he generously offered to meet with me in LA when we were both back there.
I started playing him what I was working on, and he couldn’t believe that I hadn’t yet heard The Rolling Stones or Bob Dylan—those were the ones that were the most shocking to him. I met Benmont Tench through Jackson a few weeks later, and the two of them really sat me down and gave me an education in rock-and-roll and songwriting history. That really influenced me as a songwriter and things just sort of evolved from there.
When you were growing up, before you came to the United States, who were you listening to?
I had a very limited collection of CDs. I had Jimi Hendrix’s Are You Experienced?, I had Rage Against The Machine’s Evil Empire and I had Herbie Hancock’s Thrust. That was all I had, and it was quite eclectic. And when I think about those three albums, I think, “Oh, yeah. It kind of makes sense what I sound like.”
In terms of communicating with an audience, instrumental music connects in a particularly direct way. Some might argue that once you introduce language you’re creating barriers between yourself and your listeners. Have you given this any thought?
Yes, and it’s a super interesting discussion. Looking back, I believe that part of the reason I was attracted to instrumental music and stopped singing was because there were a lot of feelings and situations that I wanted to process without having to assign words to them. I just wanted to experience the raw emotions behind those feelings. So I thought, “Well, this is the perfect way to do this because there’s no limits.”
Then, at a certain point, I realized the attractiveness of the limitations of language. What makes poetry so beautiful is that challenge. The space between words is where people fill in the blanks and make it relevant to their lives. So, yeah, all my favorite songwriters have that in spades. I’m talking about Bob Dylan or Leonard Cohen or Jimi Hendrix.
Thinking back to those three albums you had growing up, you eventually performed with Herbie Hancock. What was that like for you?
He is such an amazing musician and person. It really inspires me when someone puts in the amount of time that he’s put into developing himself as a complete person. He’s a practicing Buddhist, along with Wayne Shorter, and the way that he treats people is so inspiring.
I mean, the music thing is obvious, but it’s easy to get carried away in this business and not treat people well. So, when I meet someone like Herbie or Wayne, it’s really inspiring.
I also think back to when I first met Vinnie Colaiuta. He let me know that Jeff Beck’s management was going to call me because they were looking for a bass player and he had thrown my name into the hat. The next thing I knew, they’d flown me to England to audition. I find it fascinating that most of the people at the top of their game in their careers are actually remarkably kind, generous, intelligent people. Rock-and-roll gets such a bad rap, but it’s just the opposite—at least that’s what I’ve found.
I also think that audiences are really smart. I don’t just mean intellectually; I mean they’re intuitive. When you hear music, all your channels open up and you’re receiving so much information; it’s beyond the actual words or the notes. It’s everything in between and people can feel it when someone’s a wholehearted, genuine, kind person.
You wrote a few of the songs on Love Remains with artists familiar to Relix readers: Sonya Kitchell and Becca Stevens. How did you connect with them?
I met Sonya Kitchell when I was playing with Herbie. She was singing with him and we did Live at Abbey Road together. That was the first time I’d ever played with Herbie Hancock or Wayne Shorter. I had flown across the world with no sleep and I was very jet-lagged when I walked into being filmed while I began reading the music. I’ve definitely been thrown into the deep end in some situations, in the best way, which is fun. Sonya was singing on that, and we became friends and started writing together. It was just a really natural writing partnership.
I originally met Becca through Oteil when we were both teenagers living in New York. We lived a few doors down from each other, completely coincidentally, so we’ve been friends for a really long time and, again, decided to write together. I told her that I had this name for the album, Love Remains, but I hadn’t written a song about it yet. So, because I was processing a lot—just in terms of what this song is about—I thought it would be a fun thing to do with a friend. For me, songwriting is easier with friends because, when you’re writing something that’s deeply personal, it’s nice to have someone to throw stuff back and forth with—in terms of the lyrics and the concept and the message—as opposed to just setting yourself
up with songwriters that you’ve never met before. I have not had much success doing that.
Who were some of the other like-minded musicians you met after you moved from Los Angeles to New York and immersed yourself in the jazz world?
The first two people to ever play my music with me were Robert Glasper and Nate Smith. I remember it was so difficult trying to get musicians to play with me because nobody knew who I was. I was just this kid that arrived on the scene, sitting in on jams and stuff. I met Robert and he was just the sweetest guy. I said, “I’ve got these songs. Would you be interested in renting a rehearsal space and playing through them?” He was like, “Sure!” It was so sweet of him.
Nate Smith is a great drummer. Although it’s Antonio Sanchez playing drums, you actually see Nate Smith in [the movie] Birdman. He’s an amazing musician who plays in Chris Potter’s band and has his own thing.
At the time, we were all at the beginnings of our careers. Robert and I got together and wrote some songs at one point. We haven’t done anything with them yet, but we’ve remained in touch.
You’ve performed with so many gifted artists over the years, including Prince. How did that come about?
He saw me on TV with Jeff Beck. I think [Prince drummer] John Blackwell somehow got my information from someone and said, “Hey, Prince is looking to get in touch.” Then, I got a phone call from him. The first question he asked me was: “Do you like the drum rolls of Jack DeJohnette?” I was like, “Do I ever!”
Prince and I started communicating, and he wanted me to find some musicians and put a band together for him. So, I did that, and I spent quite a bit of time with him at his house in LA just talking. One time, he got a limo just so we could drive around in it and listen to music. He would ask my opinion on things. He brought me to Paisley Park and we recorded the equivalent of a couple albums worth of music, but only one song came out.
Shortly after you put your own band together and began performing the material that appears on Love Remains, you opened a series of dates for The Who. What was your takeaway from that tour?
It was a really great experience. It was the first real tour I’d done with my band, so I learned a lot about what it takes to be a band leader and how to adapt to different kinds of audiences. It’s one thing to play for your audience. It’s another thing to play for somebody else’s audience. It was just a learning experience—learning about vocal endurance and knowing how to handle or manage that.
At this point in your career, while you’re working to build momentum for Love Remains and your current band, most people are still familiar with your music from other settings. What has it been like for you to strike out on your own as an individual and try to get your music out there?
Most of my audience has come along for the ride. They’ve accepted and supported this evolution of mine. There are always people who want you to do something you once did. That is what it is. I don’t feel like I could do something to please an audience if I tried, just because I really have to go with what’s musically inspiring to me and what I need to say authentically. Otherwise, I’m no good for anyone.
I’m not going to stay in one place because that’s what an audience likes or what I’m known for. It’s been challenging in some ways because what I’m doing now is so different from what some people have once seen me doing. But all I can do is be myself and hope people enjoy it.
This article originally appears in the June 2019 issue of Relix. For more features, interviews, album reviews and more, subscribe here.
