Five for Fighting

Five for Fighting

CRACKING THE RIDDLE

Five for Fighting's John Ondrasik Illuminates Two Lights
John Ondrasik, the man behind Five for Fighting, might not be a household name, but the songs he's written and performed over the past few years have infiltrated just about every nook and cranny of the American landscape. The Californian is one of the more straightforward troubadours around, eschewing arty trappings in his efforts to capture snapshots of the human condition -- be they looks at the love between a parent and a child or musings on a world seemingly gone awry in wartime. Those are but two of the concepts that Ondrasik tackles on Five for Fighting's latest offering, Two Lights, a disc that also casts new light on the love between a man and his vintage car. Ondrasik invites Barnes & Noble.com's David Sprague to hop in for a guided tour of what makes the new album hum along.

Barnes & Noble.com: It sounds like you really intended to focus on songs spotlighting piano this time around. Was that the plan?

John Ondrasik: Well, the goal is always to try to present the best 10 or 12 songs -- see which ones raise their hands and which ones fall by the wayside. I did notice fairly early in the writing process that it was shaping up to be a full-fledged piano record, and I thought that was kind of cool. At no point did I say, Okay, I'd better pull out the acoustic and write five or six acoustic guitar songs. I thought a full piano record was kind of appropriate.

B&N.com: Was it easier to do that because you were also producing the album?

JO: The nice part about producing your own record is [that] good, bad, or ugly, it's your vision. And with the exception of within the band, there's no kind of arguments and stamps on it; it's my thing. I'm pleased with how the songs are presented. But it brings a lot of headaches and suffering, too. It's hard enough to write 'em and sing 'em, but to produce it, it's hard. I'm glad I did it this time. Will I produce the next one? I don't know.

B&N.com: There seem to be strong familial themes running through the album.

JO: As a guy who has two young kids, I think most parents recognize that they consume you in a lot of ways. It's no coincidence that, at this stage of my life, it's easy to find inspiration for songs there. Whether the title comes right out of their mouths or they find themselves within songs, it's always right there. My father had heart surgery last year, so that makes you look at generational things, and your place as the next one. Whether it's " '65 Mustang" or "The Riddle" or "Road to Heaven," which literally came out of my son's mouth, I'm not surprised those themes are there.

B&N.com: Are your children aware that they're in there?

JO: [laughs] My son thinks every song is about him, and my daughter thinks every song is about her, and they're both half right. Obviously, my dad gets moved when he hears " '65 Mustang" because it's about the car he brought me home from the hospital in when I was born. I probably would be if my son writes a song about me in 30 years.

B&N.com: You still have that car -- is it tough to maintain?

JO: At least you can go under the hood and do some damage to those things. With a new car, I don't know where you go. I'm completely lost. The Mustang has gone through three or four transformations. In high school, I painted it purple because I was a Prince fan, and I tore the engine apart. As I got wiser, I put it into its original condition and gave it back to my dad after I got my first record deal, who eventually gave it back to me. The only component that's not original is the cassette player, which dates me even more.

B&N.com: What's the deeper meaning behind "The Riddle"?

JO: It took me a year and a half to write that song. For a while there, it was about kids in the back, but that song's already complicated enough. I kept trying to hone it and simplify it. In the beginning that song really was a riddle, but I just couldn't figure out the right riddle. And then it became more of a sentiment and a father-and-son thing. And I swear I have a hundred different versions of that tune. Forget about the whole riddle of life, it's basically a love song between a father and a son. And it's about the kind of clarity of a five-year-old that I wake up to every day. With two young kids, that song had to come, and I'll stand by that song. And considering the reaction that I've got so far from parents in particular and kids as well, it's doing what it's supposed to do.

B&N.com: How do you go about writing the more topical songs?

JO: I talked to a lot of people for this record. Political people from both sides of the aisle, my dad, friends. I read a lot. So all these thoughts kind of came to me from these just conversations with folks. And, you know, maybe research is to strong a word, but I thought, If I'm going to try to tackle some of these issues, I want to talk to some people who are a lot smarter than I am, who can maybe give me some insight.

B&N.com: You've said that you want to write songs that matter to people. Is that a lot harder than writing songs to simply make people dance?

JO: Oh, I don't know. I'm not very good at writing songs that people can dance to. A song that matters sounds a little bit pretentious, but I do try to write songs that can last, that have a certain view, a certain sentiment. I don't sit down and say I want to write a song that will save the world, first off because I can't save the world, and second, because if you sit down to do that, the song is going to suck. I just try to express my concerns, my trials and tribulations, and if other people relate to that, I'm doing all right.

July 2006