While admirable in theory, the restlessness that drives some rockers toward evolution and experimentation can also foster serious confusion for fans. Case in point: Famously sensitive singer/songwriter Lou Barlow, who’s asked—though not directly, of course—listeners to follow him through various lineups, project names, and sounds. Who’ll go over the river and through the woods to dig up the latest sounds from Sebadoh (his almost-breakthrough indie-rock progenitor), Sentridoh (generally hissy home recordings) and the various strains of Folk Implosion (a.k.a. New Folk Implosion, Foke Implojun)? In what feels like a smart break toward simplicity, Barlow presents the cheekily titled Emoh (Merge), his most solid batch of songs since Sebadoh’s 1996 LP Harmacy and the first album to bear simply his name above the title. Gathering his various personalities in one room suits Barlow well, as he boils down the best bits of each, from strummy pop that might be Sebadoh (“Holding Back The Year”) to spare and delicate acoustic ballads (including the near-genius “Legendary”) to bumpier, Folk Implosion-style fare (“Caterpillar Girl”). He even takes the time to refute a grouchy reputation with the sorta-funny Bible tale “Mary” and a spot-on cover of Ratt’s “Round And Round.” (Album closer “The Ballad Of Daykitty,” though, would’ve been better served as a b-side.) It’s the sound of confidence and even occasional happiness from a songwriter better known for examining weakness, and a welcome, focused return for a talent that’s been underserved by its own desire to roam.

MAGNET reached Barlow at a recording studio in Los Angeles, where he was loaning his ears to new music by one of his many former bandmates.

Are you asking for trouble with the title of the record? Or at least comment?
I just thought it was a really good title. A friend of mine, because there’s a song called “Home” on the record, said, “Did you know that home pronounced backwards is emo?” It’s funny to me. And the fact that it ends in “oh,” like Sebadoh and Sentridoh ... it seems funny. And also, my name is totally kicked around when emo comes up.

Is the time ripe for a Lou Barlow resurgence with all that stuff getting popular?
I can’t think in those terms. When I first was putting out stuff, I got a lot of shit for being overly sensitive, but I go back and listen to that stuff now and it sounds like country music. I’ve never thought that I was making diary entries in songs. And when I listen to stuff like Conor Oberst or whatever, it’s obviously kind of about Conor Oberst and what he’s going through. I like confessional lyrics, I like things that make you feel uncomfortable, but I always thought the songs I wrote, that anybody could listen to them and apply them to their own life. Somehow along the way, it got to be like, “These songs are all about Lou Barlow’s breakup with his girlfriend!”

Why now have you decided to make a record credited just to Lou Barlow?
I’ve had so many different things and so many different names that I’ve managed to lose any particular audience that follows me from release to release. I’m at the point where I have to either consolidate what I have or perish, or fucking go get a job and drop music. I literally can’t support myself. There was never a thread that anyone but a record collector would ever understand. So now I might as well just call myself Lou Barlow, put out my records, and maybe if I’m lucky, some of the people who liked Folk Implosion and Sebadoh will come together to buy this record and I might be able to collect the broken pieces of this disappearing audience that I have.

Are you obsessive working at home? Do you spend all night doing stuff and ignore the wife?
The great thing about working at home is that I can have a life around it. When I was really working, I’d have her go stay with friends for a while. [Laughs] But working at home is how I was always comfortable. It’s how I’ve done probably all my best stuff. The Folk Implosion stuff that still resonates with me was all pretty much done at home, and Sebadoh III, all my contributions to that were done at home.

Do you feel like you were born 10 years early, considering all the advances in home-recording technology?
Oh my god, definitely! If I were 20 right now ... If I even had like a digital four-track, using that in conjunction with tape, the stuff I had done early on with Sentridoh would just be these full-blown, full-fidelity things. Because I was so limited, when you’d start to layer things or move from the four-track to something else, you were making the sound smaller and smaller. By the time that people heard it, they’d be like “What is this no-fi, hissy crap that you made when you were stoned?”

You sound like your own harshest critic today.
That’s every day! The success that I did have, I never hit another level. Sebadoh never even did what Pavement did. Then Folk Implosion, with the hit song (“Natural One”) and stuff, we didn’t get an audience from that. No one knew who did that song. There are the remains of the Sebadoh audience, which I’m insanely grateful for. You become really grateful for those people who do turn up to see you play and buy your records.

You seem pretty good at using your Web site (www.loobiecore.com) to keep in touch with the people that are left. It’s a nice translation of your aesthetic.
It makes me feel like I did when I was first making cassettes and trying to sell them for a dollar, fighting in my own way to get my music heard without tapping into that fucking cheeseball promo way that musicians promote themselves.

I love the offhand quote on the site: “I wish I had ambition.”
It’s not even that I’m not willing to do stuff, I just don’t know how. I think there was a particular point when things were going well that I all did was write songs and play them, and that’s all I really needed to do. You really have to do far more than just that if you’re going to sustain yourself and actually be able to make a living off of music. You have to come up with some fucking brand name, some fucking haircut, some way you dress, some band sound. What the hell is indie rock? It’s not a sound. Even now there’s just so many different things you can be—I’ve managed to be all of those things and nothing at the same time. [Laughs]

But Emoh is certainly the most consistent thing you’ve done in a long time, so that’s something.
Sure! I totally agree. I’m getting off on this fucking whatever, this idea of trying to sustain myself as a musician. That’s one thing. The part of making the records, I love that, and I’m very happy with the record that I’ve done. But I also feel it’s very necessary that I have to be ready for the horrible reviews and no people going to the shows. I can’t think that anybody’s going to buy my record or listen to my music; I can’t take that for granted at all anymore. Right now, because I’m in that mid-period [between finishing the album and its release], I’m in the fucking basement of total pessimism. All the positivity that I felt finishing the record, and being happy about being on Merge, I follow that with an equal and opposite reaction.

Do you think becoming a dad is going to change your outlook?
Yeah! I’m just less tolerant with my own bullshit, you know? Sitting around and wondering if I want to do something, that’s gone. It’s like, “Fuck it. Do it. Do whatever you can now. Start, and don’t stop.”

Anything positive we didn’t talk about?
The record is positive! I’m really sorry we got off on to this negative stuff. The record’s got a lot of flavor to it, and I worked really hard on it, and I hope that comes through. I hope that all the people who don’t want to hear anything from me just don’t listen to it and don’t write about me and leave me alone. [Laughs] I just want anybody that doesn’t want to hear it or really feels the need to yet again tell me how far past my prime I am, I just beg for their mercy. I just don’t want to deal with this indie-rock politic bullshit anymore; I just want to play my songs for people who want to hear them. I do not want to battle trying to define myself. I’m really sorry I got off on this fucking negative shit. On the record there’s a lot of happiness. It’s just me, there’s no one else writing songs with me. I waited a long time to exhaust all of my collaborations, and now everybody’s off doing their own things, and I’ve finally made a record by myself.