Devendra Banhart Talks Donald Trump & Werewolf Babies

"Traffic is at a standstill!" he reports, like a proper on-the-spot newsman. "Looks like there's multiple accidents, but they're all loving accidents," he says, with the poetic touch of a sage. "Everyone needs to get out of their cars and give each other hugs." Although not acquiescing to subsequent demands to halt the interview, stop the car and hug the drivers of LA, Banhart is more than happy to entertain an escape to Australia. "Can I move there if Trump wins?" he pleads. "Will you accept me?' sounding desperate. "I miss ya! I miss ya Australia, so I hope we can dance soon."

In any case, Banhart has tentative plans to return soon to tour fifth album Ape In Pink Marble.  "Subdued", "intimate" and "gentle" are the exact words Banhart uses to describe his latest work, with the extra suggestions of "soft", "muted" and "mellow" readily agreed with. Three years in the making with long-time songwriting and production buddies Noah Georgeson and Josiah Steinbrick, Ape In Pink Marble sounds almost effortless in its flow. "It's funny, to me it sounds like a record that was recorded in an afternoon," he says. "But, it took three years to record something sounding so fresh."

"Can I move there if Trump wins?" he pleads. "Will you accept me?'"

First single Middle Names pays tribute to a dear friend recently lost to a drug overdose. "We were very close, then he'd go off on a long bender and I wouldn't see or hear from him," Banhart explains. "I thought I saw him once at a bus stop when it was raining, so I wrote a song about it." Mid-album tracks Fancy Man and Fig In Leather crank up the tempo plus the cringe-factor. Both songs celebrate absurd, inept characters who try hard to be relevant, cool and seductive, but fail horrifically. "Both are totally consumed by themselves," shares Banhart, apologetically. "They're both totally entitled and caught up in their own ego drama. Unfortunately, neither have an awakening."

Dreamy Good Time Charlie seems inoffensively mellow until an incongruous jarring riff interrupts things at the end. "That was part of a whole song we had called The Werewolves Of Glendale," he exclaims, thrilled it was raised. "It's about babies who, when they fall asleep, turn into werewolves in Glendale, a weird part of LA." Banhart's ace production team obviously couldn't bear to waste the effort. "We axed the whole song, but decided to put three seconds of the entire epic at the end of Good Time Charlie," he says, enthusiastically. "It's kind of our own little coda for something that bit the dust. The fellas are gonna be tickled someone noticed!" he laughs.