Interview: Seth Kauffman (Floating Action)
Most weekday mornings, Seth Kauffman drops his young daughter at school at 8 a.m. and heads straight to his favorite mountain bike trail — Kitsuma, a beastly Pisgah National Forest loop that pays off steep, switchback climbs with a three-mile plummet down the continental divide — before his workday as a handyman for a property management company fires up around 10 a.m.
“I’ve figured out a way to do it door-to-door from our house in an hour and 45 minutes,” says Kauffman, the Black Mountain-based musician who writes, records, and performs as Floating Action. “It’s my only window before people start asking me to do things, which motivates me to do it.”
This resourcefulness and presence — as well as a comfort with risk, spontaneity, and trusting his instincts — have guided and grounded Kauffman throughout his music career. Over the last 15-plus years, he’s quietly released a dozen or so records of lo-fi garage soul that take listeners to Trenchtown and Motown without sounding derivative or nostalgic. Kauffman writes every lyric, melody, and note — and plays every instrument — on his home-studio-recorded albums.
Listening to Floating Action is like watching a mountain sunset through a dirty window. Crackly and cloudy, Kauffman’s DIY production aesthetic adds a matte finish to his dub, bossa nova, and Afro-Caribbean grooves and understated singing. Though mainstream success has evaded the band, a loyal fanbase that includes some of indie rock’s biggest names remains hungry for each new release.
Angel Olsen fell in love with Kauffman’s recording style when a boyfriend turned her on to Floating Action shortly after moving to Asheville circa 2012. “Something about the way every instrument sounded weathered in the sun like a hot summer day after a long time of walking aimlessly,” Olsen, who recruited Kauffman to play guitar on her 2016 album, My Woman, wrote in the liner notes to The Friend Who Knows: A Tribute to the Music of Floating Action.
Kauffman was raised in a religious family near Greensboro. Rock music was forbidden and Suzuki-method violin lessons were mandatory. At age 15, he picked up a cheap acoustic guitar and learned to play Sam Cooke, The Drifters, and Exile on Main Street-era Rolling Stones. He and childhood friend Brian Cates formed The Choosy Beggars, an ahead-of-its-time group that channeled the rootsy R&B of the aforementioned artists, and began to tinker with four-tracks and vintage gear that would ultimately render the Floating Action sound.
When The Choosy Beggars called it quits around 2004, Kauffman started experimenting with a solo project, drawing sonic inspiration from mission trips to the ghettos of Kingston, Jamaica, and Angola’s high desert while studying at Montreat College.
“I made an album called Ting where I played everything myself,” Kauffman recalls. “I just did it for fun, but when I gave people burned CD copies, they’d say, ‘Oh man, it’s so good!’ I mailed it to a label called High Tone. They loved it and put it out, so at that point I had to start a real band and tour.”
Kauffman released Ting and his second album, Research, under his own name before adopting the Floating Action moniker for the band’s self-titled 2009 release. The group toured hard and churned out a series of records in the years that followed, bouncing from label to label and eventually catching the influential ears of My Morning Jacket’s Jim James, who recruited Kauffman to play bass on his solo records and join his touring band. The Black Keys’ Dan Auerbach pulled Kauffman into the studio for records he produced for Lana Del Ray and Ray Lamontagne, whom Kauffman has also toured with on bass in recent years.
Despite rolling in such rich circles, the humble and soft-spoken Kauffman prefers a lowkey profile and life of relative obscurity. His peers, however, are more eager to sing the praises of their spotlight-shunning friend. James, in a 2013 interview with Rolling Stone, said it’s his life’s work to turn people onto Kauffman’s genius, referring to him as the “most underrated person in music.”
And recent Asheville transplant Scott McMicken of Dr. Dog fame, called Floating Action’s catalog “the easiest-to-love music I think I've ever heard: so present, so deep, so fun. Such feel and so free” in the tribute album’s liner notes.
Asheville Stages spoke with Kauffman ahead of Floating Action’s Friday, Dec. 1, headlining show at Eulogy with Scott McMicken and The Ever-Expanding.
Photo by Rachel Kauffman
Jay Moye: What’s your approach to playing Floating Action gigs in Asheville nowadays? You seem to pop up here and there, often with little promotion
Seth Kauffman: Back in the “old Asheville” days, I tried to be strategic about it. We thought we could only do, like, one hometown show per year. Then I stopped caring about any kind of strategy. When the [COVID-19] pandemic happened, I decided I just wanted to make Floating Action albums and not really play out. I have a lot of guilt in asking people to play with me. I don't want to take anybody's time to rehearse or anything. Now I only book things when people like Jeff Whitworth [talent buyer at Worthwhile Sounds] ask me to. If it’s a gig that pays OK and isn’t too much of a strain on the guys that play with me, we’ll do it.
JM: Speaking of “old Asheville,” I moved here in 2006 and would see you and Tyler [Ramsey] play as a duo on Thursday nights at BoBo Gallery [on Lexington Ave.]. I think you were playing bass and a kick drum, and he was on guitar and vocals. It felt special to everyone there.
SK: Yeah, that was definitely the old Asheville. Michael Libramento lives in Atlanta now. He and I played a little jazz gig at a bar downtown [Asheville] last weekend. We were talking about BoBo and what a classic era that was.
JM: When did Floating Action transition from a touring band to a mostly recording project?
SK: I put out an album called Body Questions in 2014 on New West when the label was going through a big cleansing, changing a ton of staff and bringing in new people. Back then, you had to have a year of press before an album came out. And apparently mine just got lost, and nobody was doing anything. They finally hired a new A&R person and she was like, “Who are you?” She hadn’t even heard the album. We’d built a certain momentum on an indie level but that just sucked everything out of it. It made me realize I couldn’t really try to tour any more. I don't have any bad feelings about it now but, you know, whatever.
JM: When you play a Floating Action record, your ears immediately know it's a Floating Action record. Has the sound you’ve dialed in evolved over the years?
SK: It's funny because, in my mind, I think each album is so different. I’m always trying out new concepts. But because it's me doing everything my way — like, playing a little behind the beat — I'm creating a sound you wouldn't get any other way. It’s a unique chemistry. And recording-wise, I don't have expensive stuff. My audio setup isn’t super clean or great. So, yeah, it’s pretty much been one body of work from 2001 ‘til now.
JM: What’s it like to introduce songs you’ve played everything on in the studio to the guys in your band? Do they have free reign to interpret the material or is the goal to mimic what you’ve recorded?
SK: A bit of both. When it's me playing everything, it has a certain mystery and groove. It's never gonna be the same live with a band, so you just have to be okay with that. But since the pandemic, it’s just been me, Michael Libramento [bass], and Evan Martin [drums]. We’ve found this new approach where we don’t talk about anything, ever. We just kind of wing it and see what happens. We never rehearse or even discuss how a song will start or end, or what the tempo or feel will be.
JM: It must take a lot of trust in each other to be able to pull that off.
SK: Yeah, it's fun. When I tour with Ray Lamontagne or Jim James, I get my fill of crushing the same thing every night. But I want Floating Action to be more like something I would enjoy seeing. When I go see a show, it’s exciting to see something that feels like it could fall apart at any second and witness how the band recovers in the moment. Not that I don’t enjoy seeing a tight band, but it can get a little boring when you know what's gonna happen.
JM: Outside the Floating Action universe, you've done a lot of studio recording with artists like Ray and Jim, as well as Angel Olsen and Lana Del Rey. What’s that experience like for you compared to doing it all on your own?
SK: It’s definitely fun, too. I played bass on the new Dylan LeBlanc album in Muscle Shoals, [Ala.,] where he grew up. His dad was an in-house songwriter there. It’s almost union-y where everyone clocks in, all the songs are charted out, and you just knock ‘em out like a factory job. I enjoy that.
I also played on Michael Nau’s album that’s coming out. We did it in a studio in Richmond, [Va.], which was kind of the opposite [of the Muscle Shoals experience]. Sort of like Floating Action, where nobody really says anything. We’d just go in the room and Michael would say, “I have one,” and start playing and we’d improvise. It’s all pretty open and free.
Photo by Rachel Kauffman
JM: You and Michael collaborated remotely during quarantine on the Dream Sitch project [a tongue-in-cheek reference to the fact that the two reclusive artists recorded 10 songs in 10 days without saying a word to each other]. How’d those songs come together?
SK: He'd start something in his home studio with a bunch of weird synths, create a weird loop, sing over it, and send it to me. Then I’d get in and add the first thing that popped into my head. Your instinct is what ends up being on the track — that’s kind of the rule. Even if I thought I could make an arrangement better, I wouldn't.
JM: Rhythm seems to be the foundation of the Floating Action sound. Do most of your songs start with a drumbeat?
SK: Back in the day they did. But now we have a seven-year-old daughter. And with every album I’ve made since having a kid, I’ve just had no time. I used to be able to hang out in the studio all day and try out ideas. Now, if a melody pops into my head, I'll record it as a voice memo. And when I get, like, 15 possible ideas, I'll go into the studio and try to get them down real quick. So, to answer your question, my songs now seem to start with melody more than rhythm.
JM: You still manage to put out a record every year or so, it seems. Are you constantly planning an album or two ahead?
SK: I'm not stockpiling. I used to pressure myself to keep putting albums out, but now I try to space them out more. Today, I started a couple of new ideas because I had a minute in the studio, but January/February is typically the time when I can really focus. I know a lot of people who really take their time. But with songs and everything in my life, really, I like to get them done as quickly as possible. There's a sense of urgency.
Before the pandemic hit, I’d spent 20 years only playing music. But there was no music happening, so I started working as a handyman for a property management company. So, I’m always on call, working all the time. It's a running joke with my wife that every time I get down the studio and turn everything on, I get called for a job and have to leave.
JM: You chronicle your mountain biking adventures on your Instagram. How does riding support your songwriting and creative process?
SK: There's lots of good natural lessons in the wild, you know? And Kitsuma, my go-to trail, is so scary and challenging that it makes you not want to do it because the climbing is so hard. There's a lot of mystery to that trail, and a lot of flow and balance. I’ve ridden it since 1994. Bikes have since gotten way better, and I've gotten better, so I'm just going faster and faster.
JM: Two years ago, a bunch of your collaborators and contemporaries recorded a Floating Action tribute album. Was that surreal?
SK: It was awkward. [laughs] I'm just the kind of person who doesn’t want anyone honoring me. The guy who spearheaded it [Daniel Martin Moore] wanted me to ask everybody to do it — which was even crazier because it’s not like I'm gonna call up Ray LaMontagne and be like, “Will you cover a song of mine?” [Daniel] asked me to do it and I was like, ‘There's no way.’
JM: Yeah, I can’t see you doing that. But it’s certainly cool to hear everyone from Jim James and Angel Olsen to Fruit Bats and Scott McMicken interpret your songs. Speaking of Scott, who you’re sharing a bill with Friday night, how did you first hook up with Dr. Dog?
SK: I used to get Rolling Stone magazines — like, the actual printed ones. I think my wife got me a subscription for Christmas. I saw a blurb on up-and-coming bands that mentioned Dr. Dog from Philly. Park the Van records was their label. I was just starting out and had [recorded] Research — you’d mail CDs to labels back then, which feels like centuries ago. I mailed Park the Van a copy of Research and they loved it and ended up putting it out. Dr. Dog became fans and invited us to open one of their tours, which was a huge deal. We were like, “Man, this is as good as it gets!” I became good friends with all of those guys and, years later, Scott produced a Michael Nau album in Joshua Tree and asked me to play on it. That was the first time I met Michael.
JM: It was fun to see you, Michael, and Scott — plus Evan and Michael [Libramento] and many others — on stage together for Scott’s AVLFest set. What's next for you musically?
SK: In February and March, I’ll be touring with Michael Nau along with the rest of the studio band that made his record. And I think I'm doing another Ray LaMontagne tour. I honestly don't really enjoy touring. I'm 47 years old and have done it for so long. But Ray’s become a good friend, and it’s a really good gig, so it’s totally worth it. I feel like he's kind of trying to fade into the sunset. He's like, “I think I could do two or three more tours and just be done.” So, I might as well keep doing it with him as long as it lasts.
IF YOU GO
Who: Floating Action with Scott McMicken and The Ever-Expanding
When: Friday, Dec. 1, 8 p.m.
Where: Eulogy, 10 Buxton Ave., burialbeer.com/pages/eulogy
Tickets: $20.94
(Photo by Sandlin Gaither)
