Dan Mangan Lets the Natural Light In

An interview about the lightbulb moments of mystery inside his new songs

It’s an axiom of every new album release. With one hand raised, artists swear on their sacred lyric-book that this is the one. The most inspired, authentic collection of songs yet.

But Dan Mangan really means it this time.

“This is the high watermark of my creative life,” he tells me from his Vancouver home, weeks before this weekend’s drop date.

“I’ve been doing this long enough to know when I’ve truly touched something real.”

Natural Light — Mangan’s 7th full-length recording — will undoubtedly be heard as a return to folk-rock form after some creative experimentation, but that was never the predetermined plan. Natural Light came about almost accidentally, and in the most homespun, organic way — straight from a secluded cabin in the woods.

Picture the best summer break ever.

When Mangan took a week-long getaway to Ontario lake country recently, his focus was on swimming, relaxing, and playing some music with his close pals. He joined steady band members Jason Haberman, Mike O’Brien, and Don Kerr at Haberman’s cottage and turned the rustic space electric with wires and gear. The idea was to create a comfy, makeshift studio in an idyllic setting to try out ideas. No map, no pressure, no expectations.

On the first night, Mangan played a tune he had jangling in his pocket for a long while. They winged a recording for fun, and after only three takes, the song was complete. “It Might Be Raining,” — a six-minute meditation on the troubled world his kids are growing up in — was a harbinger of creative convergence, and opens up Natural Light.

Without a stressful studio clock ticking, they recorded two more tunes on the second day, three on the third, and this exponential creation continued over six sleeps. The quartet ended up recording 13 fully-realized songs inside the intimate cabin, playing live-off-the-floor, eyes locked together, and engrossed in an enigmatic groove; the songs ghostlike and gifted from a place unknown.

All photos courtesy of Dan Mangan

“It felt like we just made Rumors, honestly. A classic, legendary album,” Mangan says.

It’s a bold statement from one of the most humble and fan-friendly songwriters in the country. But in true Canadian form, Mangan quickly qualifies any perceived swagger.

“I know that seems hyperbolic, but it didn’t feel hyperbolic at the time. We were all looking at each other like, what the fuck is happening here? Recording has never been easier. It was more holistic and visceral than I’ve ever experienced before.”

No one debated tempos or guitar lines. There was no preplanning of form and feel. The session had an absence of what Dan describes as “worrying about how this music defined him”. With over a century of recording experience between the four musicians, they rarely did more than four or five takes of each tune. Spontaneity took shape, and shape became song.

“Creative jubilance. Otherworldly experience. I don’t know how to describe it,” says Mangan. “Honestly, it just felt like a gift.”

I can imagine the songs on Natural Light stripped down to their singer-songwriter bones, and Mangan even sees them sung easily around a campfire.

But it’s the collective consciousness that makes this group effort so deeply layered and musical. Natural Light has a singularity and synergy to it, the kind that could only be made by close, like-minded players.

Instruments fade in and out of frame. Open spaces contrast with bright melodies and blanketed moods. It’s as if the cottage becomes the fifth band member, like in a handful of timeless albums with a confident sense of place.

Listening to these songs, I can almost feel the setting, see the lake, smell the BBQ, and imagine the old board games and mismatched mugs tucked around the cabin. Still, Mangan’s words and music never fall into vacation mode. They question our messed up planet, lament the brevity of beauty, and hold on tight to flashes of compassion and commitment.

“I feel like the honing and distilling of the lyrics on this record came from a lot of difficult soul searching.”

“Diminishing Returns” holds onto love despite the wolves at the door. “Soapbox” is an angry rant dressed as beautiful ballad. “For Him” pleads against the other guy, that parasitical douchebag we all know. Humour and anxiety play together in the fabulously titled “My Dreams Are Getting Weirder.”

“Melody,” Natural Light’s first single, recalls the stomach-pit ache of being chosen, then unchosen. The song’s wordplay leaves it up to us if it’s a romance, a life purpose, or the music industry that’s fickle and cruel.

The song’s video also gives us a front-row lawn chair to the band’s cabin experience:

Connection has always been Mangan’s superpower as an artist — whether achieved in universal song themes, engagement with listeners, online guitar tutorials, or Side Door, his innovative platform to connect artists with unique venues.

My own connection to Dan Mangan goes way back. He was the first artist I interviewed and filmed while covering the SXSW Festival in Austin a million years ago. Perhaps more profoundly, Dan was my 3-year-old daughter’s first “concert,” where she sat on the floor of Red Cat Records, tiny and wide-eyed, looking up at him playing solo for Record Store Day. Lily swears she remembers that moment, and today at 18, she’s psyched to have tickets for the Kelowna performance of the Natural Light Tour this fall.

The roadshow kicks off in Canada, then hops over to Europe in the winter. I imagine a tour earnest to recreate the lightening-in-a-bottle Mangan captured during that week in the woods.

“We all try to tap into that unconscious state of connection and intimacy,” Mangan says of these elusive moments.

“It’s anything that takes you to another realm — writing music, being intimate with your partner, a walk in nature, acupuncture, cold plunges, anything.” [See also: Dan’s health hacks from his newsletter, Reality Shield].

Mangan admits that some of Natural Light’s ease came from four people who have slogged through the music industry for decades, honing their craft and vision. But he also surrenders that they were gifted this music from somewhere beyond understanding.

“You can swipe at it, but you can’t touch it. And when it finally comes to you, it’s a relief. Hey, I figured it out! And it’s the elation of working out how to whimsically and creatively articulate that feeling.”

“And then you immediately transition from elation to fear that it might not ever happen again. I’m so grateful for this experience.”

Natural Light is available now, from Arts & Crafts