By Emma Silvers
By Gary Moskowitz
By Alee Karim
By Ian S. Port
By Ian S. Port
By Derek Opperman
By Emma Silvers
By Alee Karim
Many things feel right about Paula Frazer's house. Like the long, Victorian table in the kitchen, with its matching stiff-backed chairs. Or the antique bottles lining her shelves, their rims cloudy with memories of elixirs past. Frazer, better known under her former nom de band Tarnation, has always made music that feels wondrously out of sync with the times, and it's somehow reassuring to see that her Bernal Hill home reflects her anachronistic aesthetic.
The loom, though, feels a bit like overkill.
"I make scarves," Frazer says, amused by my reaction to the enormous weaving machine. The complicated-looking loom is all spindly wood, metal, and canvas, and more than anything else it resembles a mischievous carpenter's attempt at breeding a sailboat with a piano.
Admission is free
As Frazer brings out some of her homemade angora scarves, it quickly becomes clear that the loom is not just some dusty curio. Weaving is both her passion and her moneymaker -- and the loom ties Frazer into a past as rich and intricate as her music.
Paula Frazer had already spent time in South Carolina and Georgia when she moved to Eureka Springs as a 14- year-old. The small Arkansas town is a Midwestern tourist destination of sorts, thanks to the 67-foot-tall, 2-million-pound "Christ of the Ozarks" sculpture erected there in 1967. When Frazer was a teen, her mother worked at the Jesus' gift store (and taught piano) while her father did God's work as a minister.
Surrounded by so much religion, Frazer took to the task of rebellion with gusto.
"I got kicked out of school for smoking pot when I was 13," Frazer says, chuckling at her bad-girl days. "I hung out with people much older than myself. ... I just couldn't put up with the normal high school stuff."
After Frazer dropped out at 16, she got her GED and spent her free time singing Aerosmith and Fleetwood Mac covers. With the arrival of new wave in 1979, Frazer abandoned Stephen Tyler and Stevie Nicks for Elvis Costello and Chrissie Hynde.
At 18 the girl with the black hair and glacier eyes struck out on her own. Having been to the Bay Area on a road trip and knowing of a friend with an empty couch, she moved to San Francisco. A few months after her arrival Frazer began playing with punk bands like Frightwig and Trial, and even had a one-show stint as guitarist for hard rock act Faith No More.
After a few years, though, the intensity of San Francisco began to grate on her, and Frazer made the first of several moves back home. She found musicians to play with immediately in Arkansas, but her music had to compete with a newfound interest: archaeology.
"I've always loved history," Frazer says, explaining her excitement at stumbling into a job upon her return to the Ozarks. "A lot of kids grow up thinking, "I want to be an archaeologist.' I was like that too. Archaeology was like a puzzle to me."
Frazer focused on lab work, sorting and cataloging the thousands of tiny items that came from nearby digs. After a brief return to the Bay Area she settled in Fayetteville at the University of Arkansas and began taking the prerequisite classes for a degree in archaeology. But after a couple of years of musical inactivity Frazer packed up and headed back to San Francisco.
"I just got kind of lonely, you know. I couldn't play the music I wanted to play. White R&B is pretty popular there," she laughs. "Eh. Help. I just missed my friends."
Frazer returned to San Francisco in 1991, working as a contract archaeologist. She spent her days supervising construction sites to make sure no artifacts surfaced. ("It's alarming to see human skulls falling out of the backhoe," she says nonchalantly.) Evenings, though, she was back to making music, playing with altcountry band Virginia Dare and Berkeley's Eastern European-influenced women's chorus Savina.
And then came Tarnation. In a twist on the usual story, Frazer thought up the name long before she formed the band. Although she wrote her first songs quickly, it took her six months to round up the players for Tarnation's 1994 debut, I'll Give You Something to Cry About.
The album granted Frazer a unique place among her altcountry peers. Where other woman-fronted bands like Freakwater crafted roots music with the dirt still clinging to its tendrils, Tarnation took the traditional template in a more sinisterly celestial direction. Backed by sparse electric guitars and cries of pedal steel, Frazer's voice fluttered and soared.
Kurt Wolff, author of The Rough Guide to Country Music, was one of the early converts. "I really thought she had a gorgeous voice," Wolff says, recalling the first time he heard I'll Give You Something to Cry About. "It's got a mournful quality that's really pleasing. She just hits these minor chords that make me think of lonely nights. ... As a vocalist she's got a real gift."
That gift was also apparent to 4AD Records. The British label -- best known for putting out atmospheric groups like the Cocteau Twins and Dead Can Dance -- repackaged songs from the debut and put it out as Gentle Creatures in 1995. By then, the players from the first album had moved on, replaced by guitarist Alex Oropeza and drummer Joe Byrd (both of Broken Horse) and a series of bassists. It was the start of the salad days for Frazer and her band, ones that would culminate in repeat tours of Europe, sold-out shows opening for Nick Cave, and weeklong residencies at Paris clubs.