CReed Bratton knows a thing or two about not giving up hope, even when you feel like you shouldn’t.
The 81-year-old musician and actor has spent half his life in professional and creative limbo. In the late ’60s, his career in the arts began with three years in the successful folk-rock band Grass Roots, but by 1970 Bratton – born William Charles Snider – had dropped out of the band and was waiting for his next big break. He spent decades floating from one obscure acting job to the next until 2005, when he The office at age 62. Those years molded Bratton into an expert in ruthless resilience. He forced himself to believe he would find his way back into the spotlight.
That relentless, delusional optimism is in abundance on Bratton’s tenth studio album. Tao Popwhich comes out September 27. Lead single “Corner of the Universe,” which he co-wrote with Vance DeGeneres (brother of Ellen), is an exercise in vision: After reading a story about the self-repairing ozone layer, Bratton wrote the song, imagining a future Earth free from the horrors of the climate crisis, where the oceans are crystal clear and breathing doesn’t hurt. It’s the kind of fantasy you like to believe in, and Bratton almost convinces you it’s real with his cheery, breezy conviction. “When people hear that song, there’s a little bit of hope for a moment, and they sing along with joy, and I sing it with joy,” Bratton tells the Daily Beast by phone this summer. “It’s a fun song to sing. You get it out there, and maybe there’s a paradigm shift in the world’s consciousness. It could happen.”
These notions may seem a little unrealistic, but Bratton’s life proved that hope can take you far. While hitchhiking through North Africa in the late ’60s, he says he had a premonition: He saw himself on a stage, with many people by his side and a large crowd in front of them. He believed this meant something. “When people have these little visions, you can say, ‘OK, that’s just a fantasy or a pipe dream,’ or you could say, ‘Well, that came from a real place, that’s not something I made up,'” Bratton says. “I’m very happy that I had that vision.”
Bratton is the type who relies on visions. He is like a friendlier, less mysterious version of his Office character – more of a pot-smoking, peace-loving, yoga-practicing hippie than the occasionally ruthless oddball he played. But Bratton gives the impression that he is every bit as resourceful, smart and determined in real life as his semi-fictional counterpart.
Growing up in a musical household in small California town, he knew from a young age that he belonged in the arts. Throughout the ’70s, ’80s and ’90s, Bratton never stopped auditioning for roles or writing and performing music. He took on sporadic roles in television shows and films during those decades and began releasing solo records in the early 2000s. Office Everyone has heard at least a few of Bratton’s compositions, even if they don’t realize it: He sang karaoke to his own song “Spinnin’ N Reelin'” in the season three Christmas episode, and his 2003 song “All The Faces” was featured in the show’s series finale.
Tao Pop is the result of Bratton’s commitment to the belief system of its title: a theory of balance and harmony between all parts of our lives.”Tao Popthe middle way, Taoism, finding the path of least resistance, you know?” Bratton says. “There’s obviously yin and yang, positive and negative. There’s going to be ups and downs, but we’re trying to find that place of calm and peace. That’s the whole idea.”
Bratton says the album is largely the product of an intense spiritual exploration that he experienced in his slower post-Office Life. “When I’m on tour and playing my stuff on stage, I’m as happy as I can be. When I’m working on camera with my friends, everything’s great. But when that stops, that’s when this soul-destroying, final hour of the soul begins, where all the angst sets in,” he says. When the show ended, he explains, “I had to deal with all this childhood trauma. I won’t go into it, but I was in therapy. I realized there was really nothing I could do except let go, just absolutely let go.”
“On this album, at 81, I finally understood all that,” he continues. “I see it there, I accept it. I don’t get angry. I’ve stopped getting angry. I’m just not that angry young man anymore. And the music isn’t punk, it’s like (album closer) ‘Always Dreaming of You,’ like (jazz standards) of the ’30s, ’40s.”
Bratton, who hits the road with two shows in California in early September before embarking on an international European tour, found comfort not only in the sounds and textures of pre-war American music, but also in its ethos. “They had this great American hope,” he says. “This was before the war, we had a lot of prosperity, we had a lot of money. It was just about walking with your girlfriend and talking and feeling love without all the existential angst that we have today.”
This anachronistic jubilation is part of Tao Pop‘s charm. There are brass and strings, sophisticated bossa nova bops and folk-pop sing-alongs, all carried by Bratton’s distinctive, expressive vocals. There’s a special lightness to it all, as if it came from a world where not everything burns down. It’s tempting to interpret Bratton’s poetry as being out of touch with reality, but in truth Bratton knows how important it is to keep hope in the face of defeat.
“We must not give up!” shouts Bratton. “Look at the people in the war and what they went through. Look at the people. There has to be some kind of spiritual vision in every person that says, ‘Well, it’s bad, but I still see that it’s going to be good on the other side.’ That’s my career! That’s my life, all the time between the grass roots and The office! I’m not saying I didn’t doubt a lot. I was often discouraged and wanted to give up. When I think about it now, I get sad. It was exhausting. But every now and then that little thing would show up and I’d think, “OK, well, I just have to keep going.”
There’s no one-size-fits-all solution to combating existential anxiety and curbing defeatism, but Bratton — who has been battling both of those enemies for decades — believes the smallest step is also the most important. “Find those soulmates that you can work with,” Bratton said. “Something like ‘if a few people rally in his name,’ I think that’s the way to go. You could say, ‘We’re going to hell,’ but we could also turn the universe around and find a cure for the planet. I’d go for the latter.”
