MAYBE IT'S a bellwether of the changing times in this city: One of Portland's most artistically significant—and best—bands is calling it a day.
You Can't Go Back if There's Nothing to Go Back To is Richmond Fontaine's 10th album since forming in 1994. Centered on the forlorn songs of songwriter Willy Vlautin, it's an aural collection of short stories that examine the lives and failures of its downtrodden characters, accompanied by dust, twang, and whiskey. The band's following never reached far beyond its Portland hometown, although fans in Ireland and Great Britain have embraced the group's devastating, remarkable twist on country, folk, and punk rock. For longtime fans of Fontaine, the album functions as a farewell gift; upon its release earlier this year, the band announced it would be their last.
"Yeah, it's sad," says Vlautin. "We get along great. The Fontaine's always been a blast. The camaraderie has always been the greatest thing about the band. I like all those guys, and I never get tired of 'em—I think they get tired of me, but I don't get tired of them. I really don't! I miss hanging out with them when they're gone. [After a tour] it's nice to get home and everything, but when we all separate, I'm like, 'Ah shit, what are you doing, man? Where are you going now?' And the guys are like, 'I'm going to my fucking wife, man! I'm going home.' And I'm like, 'All right. What are you doing tomorrow?'"