(This interview originally appeared on the Rhapsody Blog.)

There’s a reason why the media has drooled all over the Heartless Bastards since The Mountain’s release in February. Like their pals the Black Keys, the Bastards filter Midwestern DIY indie through bruising bar rock. Singer, songwriter and guitarist Erika Wennerstrom is a rust-stained poetess of the old industrial north. Wailing, crying and whispering, she’s like a mutant fusion of PJ Harvey, Patti Smith and old-school Bob Seger, back when the dude was howling about the “Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man.”

Wennerstrom is one of those performers who grants her audience access to her heart’s innermost chambers. It’s for this reason that I wanted to interview her. I’m the dumb fan who felt like I already knew her, like there was some kind of connection between us. Though I was pretty damn nervous, we talked about all kinds of cool stuff: her hometown (Dayton, Ohio), her new home (Austin), producer Mike McCarthy, Karen Dalton, Brainiac, rock stardom, British folk, wigs and — in the words of the immortal Eddie Lee — “a whole lot more.”

So, are you sick of interviews yet? You’ve probably been doing one or two a day, right?
I was earlier, when The Mountain first came out, but now not quite as often.

Is giving fewer interviews a good thing?
Yeah, of course. But I want as many people to hear us as possible, and interviews are just another way to get people to hear our music.

You are the only constant in the Heartless Bastards. When putting together your current touring band, you reconnected with Dave Colvin and Jesse Ebaugh, who were members when the band first came together in 2003. Why not put together a brand-new lineup?
They are really talented guys. I think they’re perfectly capable of playing as well as hired gun musicians. Plus, I would rather have friends come along than total strangers. It’s more enjoyable that way.

For The Mountain, how did you hook up with producer Mike McCarthy, who has also worked with Spoon, …And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead, and Patty Griffin?
Somehow, he had heard of us and contacted my manager. But I love all those Spoon records.

McCarthy is the first real producer the band has worked with. Were you nervous about surrendering control in the studio?
A bit. Plus, I was going through a hard time just after the end of a long relationship. It was a good time to have someone there to help me. I didn’t have the energy to go it alone. So it was perfect to work with somebody who was dedicated to making the record as good as it could be.

The album’s slower songs — moody ballads like “Wide Awake,” “So Quiet” and “Had to Go” — exude an Americana vibe. But they also have this subtle British folk feeling. Were you listening to stuff like that before you recorded The Mountain?
No. But I’m sure I have before. Who was that lady Mick Jagger dated? She’s British folk, right?

Marianne Faithfull. She’s a little more art pop, in my opinion. I’m thinking of Sandy Denny, Richard Thompson and even Karen Dalton, who is actually American.
I wasn’t familiar with Karen Dalton until a just couple years ago. I love her now. The label that reissued her In My Own Time album, Light in the Attic Records, brought me a copy when we played Seattle. I totally fell in love with it. But as far as that song “So Quiet,” that was inspired by the Nico album Chelsea Girl. That’s one of my favorite albums. And “Had to Go” — the song just kind of popped into my head. I don’t know how that one happened. My influences are all over the place. A lot of times I think they’re subconscious. It’s a mystery even to myself. [Laughs]

It seems as though a lot of your songs center around these basic battles between good and evil. You are fighting forces from both inside and out that are trying to hold you down. Do you feel life is a struggle?
Sure — but in a good way as well. If you didn’t have bad days, why would you ever appreciate the good ones? I think that’s a necessary part of life. You know that song “Be So Happy”?

Yeah, the second track on The Mountain.
That song is about things that happen to you in your day and about the attitude you take when dealing with them. Sometimes, something silly like spilling coffee in your lap can put you in a horrible mood — just stupid stuff. Then there are things that can happen to people that are seriously horrible, yet they can set those things aside and not allow them to get to them. And by no means am I saying, “If I spilled coffee on my lap, I would have a horrible attitude all day.” I just mean about making decisions that can help create a positive outlook and to not let things get to me. Life is really not that bad.

When I listen to your music I hear a woman that’s strong and resilient, but vulnerable, too. I think this vulnerability came out in the January profile in the New York Times, especially when Matthew Johnson, the founder of your record label Fat Possum, was quoted as saying, “Erika is tough as nails, even though she cries all the time.”
I don’t think life is tough or anything, but for me creating music is my way of dealing with it. It’s my outlet, and maybe my life would be tough if I didn’t have this outlet. I like to move on from things and not dwell on them. I’ll cry if I’m proud of somebody or really happy about something just as much as if I were upset about something. It’s just kind of who I am. The New York Times article mentions me crying, but it’s not really about me being a sad person, jut me going through a lot of really overwhelming situations. That’s just something I can’t hide like a lot of other people.

Have you been surprised by all attention The Mountain has received? Or did you know that you had created something special?
I was proud of it, but I don’t know about that stuff. What people like and don’t like is all just opinions. You don’t know what other people are going to think. I write music that I like and believe in. Ultimately, I hope people will respond, and that’s all I can do. But as far as anticipating people liking the record, I hoped people would, and I felt good about it.

Did growing up in Dayton, Ohio, influence your music?
Oh yeah, definitely. When I was a teenager, Dayton had a really great music scene: Guided by Voices, the Breeders, Brainiac. They were all big inspirations.

Brainiac were great.
I love them. I don’t think they influenced me musically — more in terms of their DIY roots and making things happen. That was very motivational, like “I live in Dayton, this small town, but I can do this and still live here. I don’t have to move to L.A. or New York. I can be in my hometown and go somewhere with this.” There’s a lot of grit in Dayton, a lot of car factories and auto parts factories. There’s a military base. It’s a very working-class town, and that has a lot to do with the sounds that come out of there. I’m sure that has influenced me as well. And the whole Ohio sound in general: the Black Keys, the Pretenders.

I heard you guys before I knew anything about you, but I was positive that the band had grown up in a gritty, industrial town. I did, too, so I sensed that. Kind of strange.
That’s really cool. I’ve had a lot of great opportunities and a lot of struggles. I’ve seen both sides in many ways.

So you moved to Austin shortly before recording The Mountain. Has Austin as an environment influenced you?
Not really. I had a lot of the songs kind of worked out before I moved. A lot of my words are about what I was going through at the time: moving to a new city, ending a long-term relationship. I think I’ve grown as an artist, and that would’ve happened no matter what city I moved to.

Have you explored Austin’s insanely huge music scene?
I recently did two country covers with Alex Maas from the Black Angels. Are you familiar with them?

Totally.
We did country duets, which I can say living in Texas has influenced me to try. I’ve never really listened to country, but I’ve gotten into old-school country. We did a Ray Price cover, and — I’ve always loved Johnny Cash — we did his version of “If I Were a Carpenter,” which was a duet with June Carter. So I can say old country has influenced me recently. I’m not sure if it’s going to influence the next album, but who knows?

So you’ve already started writing for the next record.
I’m working on some stuff in my head, but we’ve been on tour a lot. I have a bunch of melodies in my head. But actually going over to a guitar and working out arrangements is something I haven’t done yet.

How big of a rock star would you like to be?
I don’t really know. I’m doing this for the music. The better you do, the more people get into what you’re doing, and that’s extremely flattering. I would be more than happy with more and more people listening to the music I’m creating. But as far as fame, I could really do without it. [Laughs]

Is it possible to be too famous?
Yeah. Yeah. I’m sure. But where that line is drawn I have no idea because I haven’t gone through it.

It seems like the Black Keys have reached a workable level of fame.
Oh yeah. But I’m really happy with what’s already happened to us. Whatever happens, happens. I’m just going to keep on making music, but I am really proud of what I’ve done.

I thought the best part of the New York Times profile was when you revealed that tidbit about wearing a wig in order to sneak into a bar in Dayton.
Yeah. [Laughs]

Did you wear just a wig or a full costume?
It was a just a wig. I had been sneaking into this bar for a while, and this guy told on me. But a lot of my friends were still going there, so I borrowed my roommate’s wig, and it actually worked for like a month.

Did you get caught?
Yeah. But by then I had just a couple more months until I turned 21.

When you got caught did the bartender pull a Scooby-Doo by tearing off the wig and yelling, “Aha! Imposter!”
No. No. [Laughs]