Almost any performer will tell you that getting on stage requires a lot of confidence. Unfortunately, I'm probably the least confident musician I know. I don't feel like I underestimate (or overestimate) my abilities but every time we do any kind of a show, whether it's for a huge crowd or a practically empty room, I feel like everyone is going to have a horrible time. After particularly good shows I think I get even more down on myself because the feeling I get from a warm reception makes me feel guilty. I always think that no one, no matter how great or nice or talented, deserves to feel as good as I do when a crowd really likes us. Basically, I always either feel like I did a poor job or I feel guilty for doing a good job. Then I contemplate quitting. Then I start calling around, desperately trying to book more gigs than I have time for.
As we play more and more, I've been working on the self esteem thing. I know I'm probably never going to have the swagger that a lot of guys have on stage. I can fake it here and there for a song or two in each set, but I can't imagine ever really becoming that guy. I think it helps us sometimes because I know that people at a lot of venues don't like to book the singer that thinks he's God's gift to everyone. Then again, my friends make fun of me when, in response to thunderous applause, I tend to look at my feet and say very quietly, "Thank you for coming to my show." (Their subsequent impressions of this tend to involve a lisp or Eeyore-like voice.) I'm friendly with crowds, but no one can ever accuse me of being smooth. It's strange, because some of my most popular covers are just modern crooner-style ballads.
Then I develop and constantly redevelop my identity crisis, because all of the songs I tend to write are either really pretty and sad or really rough and spiteful. All the covers seem to fall somewhere in between, so at least I bridge the gap. But I think sometimes it's strange trying to reconcile the songs I write with the person I am. While my closest friends know me as this squeaky-clean guy, I worry that my songwriting belies that maybe I've been around the block one too many times, if only emotionally. It reminds me of a line from the Wallflowers' "Sleepwalker" that says, "They think I'm a whore. I'm an educated virgin."
I don't know why my songwriting leans toward the rough and unpolished, but I'm learning that it's really okay. I know that it's a product of all my experiences and I'm okay with it as long as I'm telling the truth. So I'm probably never going to be that guy who plays all the songs that the girls want to hear. Even if I'm not singing songs that directly tell stories, I want to tell the stories of who I am with my music, both original and covers, warts and all. The older I get, the more beauty I find in that style.
I wanted to share a couple of videos tonight of performances of songs that I think are great because of (and not in spite of) their portrayals of flawed people and flawed situations that really turn out okay. The first one is a stripped-down performance of "Ain't So Lonely" by the band Lucero. I started playing percussion and singing backup vocals on this song for Walker Waggonner, and eventually I started adding my own version into shows every once in a while. To me there's something very existential, and therefore very rock and roll, about this song:
The other video is from the Hold Steady. It's a live version of "The Weekenders", a song that, when I hear it, makes me think of any number of events in my life, one in particular being a botched weekend in Saratoga Springs in my early twenties that ended with me just laying around in a hotel room listening to Springsteen. It's hard to explain, but the song reminds me that sometimes I can look back with fondness on the things that never even happened at all, but only threatened to happen. I think that's something everyone can relate to. Well, that and how, "in the end, only the girls know the whole truth."
Rock and roll may be about swagger but, even if we've tried to make it that way, it'll never truly be about smooth edges. I don't know if my music will ever take that turn, but for right now I'm happy with the roughness, the open-endedness, and the questions. If I had that much of a plan for it I wouldn't be making music - I'd just be manufacturing it. Despite the frustrations, I appreciate that unknown. Like the song says, "It's not always a positive thing to see a few seconds into the future."
Monday, March 12, 2012
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Everything we've grown...
It's always nice to be able to play the random song that the person in the front row requests, even if you're completely unprepared to do it. We were having an awesome night Friday at Sadler's Kitchen in Jacksonville for a great audience when a couple of guys randomly asked if we could do any Simon and Garfunkel. Because they'd given us such a great response so far it really pained me to have to say no. As much as I like Simon and Garfunkel, I just don't know how to do any of their songs. It was close to the end of the set, and we played a Rolling Stones cover to finish it out. But when I thanked everyone and set my guitar down to take a break, my dad came to the rescue and started picking out a melody I remembered so well from my childhood.
While I made my way to the back of the restaurant to listen, my dad started in with the familiar lyrics to Simon and Garfunkel's "The Sound of Silence." It took a few lines into the first verse, but my mom finally got up and joined him, and they harmonized through the entire song. It was really beautiful and a very special performance to see for anyone who was there. I play the Ray Charles song "Seven Spanish Angels" today because I loved watching my parents perform it in their shows when I was younger, but "The Sound of Silence" was by far my favorite out of all of the songs that they played.
As a kid, I didn't always like my parents' choice of songs that they played in their gigs, but that's something to be expected. Older now, I understand music a lot more, and I appreciate things now that I didn't when I was so young. I realize that I wouldn't be performing today and I probably wouldn't even have my love for music if it weren't for them. That's why Friday night was very special for me. I play with my dad all the time, and my mom does join us on a song from time to time, but it sure was nice to just get to watch them like I used to. I know that not many people are as blessed as I am to still have their folks around, much less to be able to share something like this with them. It's a reminder to me to not take so many things for granted.
I'm not good at writing "nice" songs. And most songs I hear about family are either bitter or so artificially sweet that I can barely stand to listen to them. The ones I hear on the radio, especially by young country stars, just sound to me like pandering to get a certain demographic to buy records because of the perceived wholesomeness of the artist. And half of them aren't even written by the performer. I just don't "get" that.
But a few years ago I was lucky enough to catch a show on the debut album-supporting tour of a band called fun. The lead singer, Nate Ruess (formerly of the Format), performed a song that he wrote for his parents and it brought me to tears the first time I heard it. Of course, I bought the record that night and have listened to the song many times since then, and it has not failed a single time to make me cry. There's not a hint of self-indulgence, pandering, or sarcasm. It's just an ode to the two people that made him who he is, and a testament to their love for each other. I wish I could write songs like that, but I'm not good at it.
More than that, even, I wish there was more pure and unadulterated sincerity in songs like this in the music industry as a whole. Unfortunately, that might not be what sells these days. But I hope you like the song. It really is one of the most beautiful pieces of music I've ever heard. Here's a nice live version:
While I made my way to the back of the restaurant to listen, my dad started in with the familiar lyrics to Simon and Garfunkel's "The Sound of Silence." It took a few lines into the first verse, but my mom finally got up and joined him, and they harmonized through the entire song. It was really beautiful and a very special performance to see for anyone who was there. I play the Ray Charles song "Seven Spanish Angels" today because I loved watching my parents perform it in their shows when I was younger, but "The Sound of Silence" was by far my favorite out of all of the songs that they played.
As a kid, I didn't always like my parents' choice of songs that they played in their gigs, but that's something to be expected. Older now, I understand music a lot more, and I appreciate things now that I didn't when I was so young. I realize that I wouldn't be performing today and I probably wouldn't even have my love for music if it weren't for them. That's why Friday night was very special for me. I play with my dad all the time, and my mom does join us on a song from time to time, but it sure was nice to just get to watch them like I used to. I know that not many people are as blessed as I am to still have their folks around, much less to be able to share something like this with them. It's a reminder to me to not take so many things for granted.
I'm not good at writing "nice" songs. And most songs I hear about family are either bitter or so artificially sweet that I can barely stand to listen to them. The ones I hear on the radio, especially by young country stars, just sound to me like pandering to get a certain demographic to buy records because of the perceived wholesomeness of the artist. And half of them aren't even written by the performer. I just don't "get" that.
But a few years ago I was lucky enough to catch a show on the debut album-supporting tour of a band called fun. The lead singer, Nate Ruess (formerly of the Format), performed a song that he wrote for his parents and it brought me to tears the first time I heard it. Of course, I bought the record that night and have listened to the song many times since then, and it has not failed a single time to make me cry. There's not a hint of self-indulgence, pandering, or sarcasm. It's just an ode to the two people that made him who he is, and a testament to their love for each other. I wish I could write songs like that, but I'm not good at it.
More than that, even, I wish there was more pure and unadulterated sincerity in songs like this in the music industry as a whole. Unfortunately, that might not be what sells these days. But I hope you like the song. It really is one of the most beautiful pieces of music I've ever heard. Here's a nice live version:
Friday, March 2, 2012
Setlist 3-2-12
Here's our March 2nd setlist from Sadler's Kitchen!
Everybody Learns from Disaster (Dashboard Confessional)
Texas and Tennessee
You Ain't Going Nowhere (Bob Dylan)
La Cienega Just Smiled (Ryan Adams)
Rocketman (Elton John)
Cumbersome (Seven Mary Three)
Dead Flowers (The Rolling Stones)
Knockin' On Heaven's Door (Bob Dylan)
Forget You (Cee Lo Green)
Mr. Jones (Counting Crows)
30
Set Fire to the Rain (Adele)
You Can't Always Get What You Want (The Rolling Stones)
The Sounds of Silence (Simon and Garfunkel) - Special Performance by Cindy and Eric Moseley
Vindicated (Dashboard Confessional)
The Cave (Mumford and Sons)
Stand In the Same Room
Oh My Sweet Carolina (Ryan Adams)
Brown-Eyed Girl (Van Morrison)
Wagon Wheel (Old Crow Medicine Show) - with Walker Waggonner
Airport in Amsterdam - with Eamond McAuley
Kid Things (Counting Crows)
A Taste for Blood
Runnin' Down a Dream (Tom Petty)
Wales
The Neighborhood Is Bleeding (Manchester Orchestra)
Suffer
Steal Your Heart (Augustana)
Drops of Jupiter (Train)
Calling You (Blue October)
Stand By Me (Ben E. King)
Seven Spanish Angels (Ray Charles)
1973 (James Blunt)
Let It Be (The Beatles)
Space (Something Corporate)
Rain King (Counting Crows)
Everybody Learns from Disaster (Dashboard Confessional)
Texas and Tennessee
You Ain't Going Nowhere (Bob Dylan)
La Cienega Just Smiled (Ryan Adams)
Rocketman (Elton John)
Cumbersome (Seven Mary Three)
Dead Flowers (The Rolling Stones)
Knockin' On Heaven's Door (Bob Dylan)
Forget You (Cee Lo Green)
Mr. Jones (Counting Crows)
30
Set Fire to the Rain (Adele)
You Can't Always Get What You Want (The Rolling Stones)
The Sounds of Silence (Simon and Garfunkel) - Special Performance by Cindy and Eric Moseley
Vindicated (Dashboard Confessional)
The Cave (Mumford and Sons)
Stand In the Same Room
Oh My Sweet Carolina (Ryan Adams)
Brown-Eyed Girl (Van Morrison)
Wagon Wheel (Old Crow Medicine Show) - with Walker Waggonner
Airport in Amsterdam - with Eamond McAuley
Kid Things (Counting Crows)
A Taste for Blood
Runnin' Down a Dream (Tom Petty)
Wales
The Neighborhood Is Bleeding (Manchester Orchestra)
Suffer
Steal Your Heart (Augustana)
Drops of Jupiter (Train)
Calling You (Blue October)
Stand By Me (Ben E. King)
Seven Spanish Angels (Ray Charles)
1973 (James Blunt)
Let It Be (The Beatles)
Space (Something Corporate)
Rain King (Counting Crows)
Setlist 3-1-12
Here's our setlist from the March 1st show at KE Cellars:
Stand In the Same Room
Calling You (Blue October)
Summer Never Came
Vindicated (Dashboard Confessional)
Ring of Fire (Johnny Cash)
Oh My Sweet Carolina (Ryan Adams)
The Neighborhood Is Bleeding (Manchester Orchestra)
We're All Stuck Out in the Desert (Johnathan Rice)
Airport in Amsterdam
Ain't So Lonely (Lucero)
Kid Things (Counting Crows)
A Taste for Blood
Rocketman (Elton John)
You Ain't Going Nowhere (Bob Dylan)
La Cienega Just Smiled (Ryan Adams)
Cumbersome (Seven Mary Three)
Forget You (Cee Lo Green)
A Long December (Counting Crows)
Heartbreak World (Matt Nathanson)
Space (Something Corporate)
Poison
Life On a Chain (Pete Yorn)
Runnin' Down a Dream (Tom Petty)
Let It Be (The Beatles)
1973 (James Blunt)
Mr. Jones (Counting Crows)
Set Fire to the Rain (Adele)
You Can't Always Get What You Want (The Rolling Stones)
Hallelujah (Leonard Cohen)
The Cave (Mumford and Sons)
Lucky Now (Ryan Adams)
Stand By Me (Ben E. King)
Babylon (David Gray)
Drops of Jupiter (Train)
Wales
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Setlist 2-17-2012
Here's tonight's setlist from the Forge!
We're All Stuck Out In the Desert (Johnathan Rice)
Kid Things (Counting Crows)
Like a Rolling Stone (Bob Dylan)
Stand In the Same Room
Ring of Fire (Johnny Cash)
Airport In Amsterdam
Seven Spanish Angels (Ray Charles)
A Taste for Blood
Oh My Sweet Carolina (Ryan Adams)
Brown-Eyed Girl (Van Morrison)
Lucky Now (Ryan Adams)
The Cave (Mumford and Sons)
Hallelujah (Leonard Cohen)
You Ain't Going Nowhere (Bob Dylan)
Texas and Tennessee
Cumbersome (Seven Mary Three)
Tuesday's Gone (Lynyrd Skynyrd)
Chicken
Dead Flowers (The Rolling Stones)
Rocketman (Elton John)
Knockin' On Heaven's Door (Bob Dylan)
Only You (Yaz)
Poison
Fit
Let It Be (The Beatles)
Wales
Gray City
30
You Can't Always Get What You Want (The Rolling Stones)
Stand By Me (Ben E. King)
Suffer
The Neighborhood Is Bleeding (Manchester Orchestra)
Summer Never Came
Someday (The Strokes)
Say My Name
Calling You (Blue October)
Here He Comes (The Wallflowers)
We're All Stuck Out In the Desert (Johnathan Rice)
Kid Things (Counting Crows)
Like a Rolling Stone (Bob Dylan)
Stand In the Same Room
Ring of Fire (Johnny Cash)
Airport In Amsterdam
Seven Spanish Angels (Ray Charles)
A Taste for Blood
Oh My Sweet Carolina (Ryan Adams)
Brown-Eyed Girl (Van Morrison)
Lucky Now (Ryan Adams)
The Cave (Mumford and Sons)
Hallelujah (Leonard Cohen)
You Ain't Going Nowhere (Bob Dylan)
Texas and Tennessee
Cumbersome (Seven Mary Three)
Tuesday's Gone (Lynyrd Skynyrd)
Chicken
Dead Flowers (The Rolling Stones)
Rocketman (Elton John)
Knockin' On Heaven's Door (Bob Dylan)
Only You (Yaz)
Poison
Fit
Let It Be (The Beatles)
Wales
Gray City
30
You Can't Always Get What You Want (The Rolling Stones)
Stand By Me (Ben E. King)
Suffer
The Neighborhood Is Bleeding (Manchester Orchestra)
Summer Never Came
Someday (The Strokes)
Say My Name
Calling You (Blue October)
Here He Comes (The Wallflowers)
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Setlist 2-4-2012
Here's the setlist from tonight's show at the Purple Pig Cafe!
Landslide (Fleetwood Mac)
Don't Think Twice, It's Alright (Bob Dylan)
Rocketman (Elton John)
A Long December (Counting Crows)
Texas and Tennessee
One (U2)
Cumbersome (Seven Mary Three)
Heartbreak World (Matt Nathanson)
Don't Go Away (Oasis)
Chicken
Jimmy Olsen's Blues (Spin Doctors)
You Ain't Going Nowhere (Bob Dylan)
Seven Spanish Angels (Ray Charles)
Restless Dream (Jack's Mannequin)
Stand In the Same Room
Lifeline
Calling You (Blue October)
Kid Things (Counting Crows)
Suffer
Cannonball (Damien Rice)
Stand By Me (Ben E. King)
Airport In Amsterdam
Say My Name
New Orleans Dry
Life On a Chain (Pete Yorn)
Only You (Yaz)
Poison
Someday (The Strokes)
Wales
Landslide (Fleetwood Mac)
Don't Think Twice, It's Alright (Bob Dylan)
Rocketman (Elton John)
A Long December (Counting Crows)
Texas and Tennessee
One (U2)
Cumbersome (Seven Mary Three)
Heartbreak World (Matt Nathanson)
Don't Go Away (Oasis)
Chicken
Jimmy Olsen's Blues (Spin Doctors)
You Ain't Going Nowhere (Bob Dylan)
Seven Spanish Angels (Ray Charles)
Restless Dream (Jack's Mannequin)
Stand In the Same Room
Lifeline
Calling You (Blue October)
Kid Things (Counting Crows)
Suffer
Cannonball (Damien Rice)
Stand By Me (Ben E. King)
Airport In Amsterdam
Say My Name
New Orleans Dry
Life On a Chain (Pete Yorn)
Only You (Yaz)
Poison
Someday (The Strokes)
Wales
Maybe you suffer a little more than you ought to...
For years and years I avoided facebook like the plague, but eventually I had to join because of my day job. In the two years that I've been using it I've realized that we wouldn't have had the chance to reach nearly as many people if it weren't for sites like facebook and ReverbNation. Though I resisted at first, I'm not a firm believer in the positive power of social networking. Our great friend Mark Montgomery runs a social media business and has helped us out a lot in growing our presence online, and he has a lot of cool thoughts to share on this technology at Your Social Media Guy. Check out his blog!
As someone who used to be oblivious to social media altogether, I think it's really funny that I've written two different songs as a result of things that I saw on facebook. Today's blog is actually about one of them - one of our newer songs called "Suffer". Yeah, I know I write a lot of downer music. And the title of this one makes it sound like just another depressing track from yours truly. But, despite the name, it's actually one of my more positive, uplifting songs...inspired by all the downer things I see every day online.
You know, I see so many positive possibilities with the online world. There are so many opportunities to share art and information with people with whom you would never come into contact otherwise. And there are a lot of worthwhile subjects out there to be talking about. I do think that we probably overshare online. Sorry, but if all you had for breakfast was toast, I do not care. Not one little bit. That's a minor annoyance for me, having to see who all had toast for breakfast every day. But what really gets me is when I log on to facebook or any other site and see nothing but complaints, day in and day out.
I'm a very private person about everyday things. I don't share any kind of personal news whatsoever online. I don't mind sending private messages on facebook, but I don't like advertising my personal business to hundreds of "friends", some of whom I've only met once or twice in real life. It doesn't mean I don't like you all, it's just that I figure I can tell individual people what they need to know as the subjects come up naturally. I worry that a lot of people probably think I'm a jerk for just using facebook professionally as a musician. When I don't comment on your personal posts it doesn't mean that I don't care, it just means that I don't see the point in advertising to the world that I do care.
I do love going online and reading daily the positive things that some people have to say. Some people are just very pleasant. And I seem to know a lot of people with a lot of troubles who continue to put out a "glass half full" vibe. That makes me so happy. Then there are those people that I mentioned before, the ones that will find something to complain about every other hour, something to be over-the-top annoyed about, something to be judgmental about, something to just be negative about. And I wonder how easy their lives must be that they can get so upset about such small things.
So I wrote this song called "Suffer". It's about all the negativity that we surround ourselves with. Sometimes I think it's just so that we can have something to say, when sometimes it's really okay to have nothing at all to say. The first lines of the chorus to this song are, "The rain's gonna fall whether you like it or not, and I think maybe you suffer a little more than you ought to." Bad things are going to happen, and lots of little bad things are going to happen every day, but it's okay to keep a positive attitude. Isn't that what we should be putting out into the universe? Negativity only creates more negative response.
The other aspect to "Suffer" is the idea that sometimes it seems as if we like to get ourselves stuck in that negativity. It may be something as simple (and, in our own minds, as justified) as judging ourselves for our past mistakes. I don't necessarily write what most would call Christian music, but my Christian faith plays a large role in my songwriting. The idea that you can move on, be forgiven, and forgive yourself for things in the past is central to that. Whether you share the same faith or not, I hope that's a sentiment that we can all agree on. It's okay to put the past in the past when we try to move on and be better.
And there's always hope for a better day, just like the line in the song that says, "I can promise you there's still hope for a place to fly and room to grow." I know that I write a lot of sad and negative music, so this one was one of my attempts at balancing the scale. I hope that a song called "Suffer" can bring some happiness to someone who listens to it.
As someone who used to be oblivious to social media altogether, I think it's really funny that I've written two different songs as a result of things that I saw on facebook. Today's blog is actually about one of them - one of our newer songs called "Suffer". Yeah, I know I write a lot of downer music. And the title of this one makes it sound like just another depressing track from yours truly. But, despite the name, it's actually one of my more positive, uplifting songs...inspired by all the downer things I see every day online.
You know, I see so many positive possibilities with the online world. There are so many opportunities to share art and information with people with whom you would never come into contact otherwise. And there are a lot of worthwhile subjects out there to be talking about. I do think that we probably overshare online. Sorry, but if all you had for breakfast was toast, I do not care. Not one little bit. That's a minor annoyance for me, having to see who all had toast for breakfast every day. But what really gets me is when I log on to facebook or any other site and see nothing but complaints, day in and day out.
I'm a very private person about everyday things. I don't share any kind of personal news whatsoever online. I don't mind sending private messages on facebook, but I don't like advertising my personal business to hundreds of "friends", some of whom I've only met once or twice in real life. It doesn't mean I don't like you all, it's just that I figure I can tell individual people what they need to know as the subjects come up naturally. I worry that a lot of people probably think I'm a jerk for just using facebook professionally as a musician. When I don't comment on your personal posts it doesn't mean that I don't care, it just means that I don't see the point in advertising to the world that I do care.
I do love going online and reading daily the positive things that some people have to say. Some people are just very pleasant. And I seem to know a lot of people with a lot of troubles who continue to put out a "glass half full" vibe. That makes me so happy. Then there are those people that I mentioned before, the ones that will find something to complain about every other hour, something to be over-the-top annoyed about, something to be judgmental about, something to just be negative about. And I wonder how easy their lives must be that they can get so upset about such small things.
So I wrote this song called "Suffer". It's about all the negativity that we surround ourselves with. Sometimes I think it's just so that we can have something to say, when sometimes it's really okay to have nothing at all to say. The first lines of the chorus to this song are, "The rain's gonna fall whether you like it or not, and I think maybe you suffer a little more than you ought to." Bad things are going to happen, and lots of little bad things are going to happen every day, but it's okay to keep a positive attitude. Isn't that what we should be putting out into the universe? Negativity only creates more negative response.
The other aspect to "Suffer" is the idea that sometimes it seems as if we like to get ourselves stuck in that negativity. It may be something as simple (and, in our own minds, as justified) as judging ourselves for our past mistakes. I don't necessarily write what most would call Christian music, but my Christian faith plays a large role in my songwriting. The idea that you can move on, be forgiven, and forgive yourself for things in the past is central to that. Whether you share the same faith or not, I hope that's a sentiment that we can all agree on. It's okay to put the past in the past when we try to move on and be better.
And there's always hope for a better day, just like the line in the song that says, "I can promise you there's still hope for a place to fly and room to grow." I know that I write a lot of sad and negative music, so this one was one of my attempts at balancing the scale. I hope that a song called "Suffer" can bring some happiness to someone who listens to it.
Friday, February 3, 2012
I'll wait for you when Saturday's a memory...
As a concert-goer, it's always fun to see what songs an artist will play on any given night. I've seen a lot of acts right in the midst of their first tours, usually opening for a much bigger band, and in those cases you usually go knowing what to expect. When I got to see Matchbox 20 open for the Stones in '98 it was no surprise to see them play through basically all of Yourself Or Someone Like You. I haven't had a chance to see them since, but I'm guessing that nowadays their show is completely different from one night to the next. Most of the bands I go see have a fairly large catalog from which to choose. After going to many Counting Crows concerts over the years, I can safely say that I can never predict what their setlist will be like. And I can't imagine what it must be like for those prolific songwriters like Bob Dylan or Ryan Adams to narrow down their possible song choices into just a couple hours of music.
I've written less than 30 original songs in my short time so far as a songwriter, but, playing locally, there's also the understanding that we as performers will play lots of covers at our gigs. So I can add all of the covers in with those and I end up with a catalog of over 200 different songs that we've performed. Shows generally last anywhere from 1 to 4 hours, depending on the venue and whether or not you might be the opener or the closer. So I've come to understand that the art of the setlist is just as important as the art of playing the individual songs in that setlist. Putting together a show from so many choices can be a lot of fun, or it can be just another thing to stress you out. And I think almost every performer has their own way of going about it.
I know that a lot of our friends who like to play at local restaurants may skip the setlist altogether. Sometimes this is because they're planning to just go with the flow and/or take requests. When we first started playing at different eateries we would put out laminated lists of about 100 songs from which we would take requests. It's definitely a great way to make tips and it's always nice to be able to please the crowd in a very specific way, but there were a couple of problems with this for me. The first was that we would end up playing a few songs three or four times in a single night. I'm not a fan of doing that, and I always felt bad for those who had come to watch the performance and had to sit through repeats. The second problem was that sometimes there are songs that you just don't feel like playing. That's okay for some types of performances, but I feel like I have to put tons of emotion into my shows to make them entertaining, so if I'm not feeling a song it's just not going to sound good. So I learned after a few months that I probably wasn't going to be the "by-request" guy.
Another method that we've seen a lot of great local musicians use is printing out one long list of all (or a subset of) their songs and choose from those on-the-fly during the performance. What's great about that is that you come prepared but you still have lots of freedom to read the crowd and keep playing tunes that they'll respond to. (Again, tips are nice, but so is lots of applause.) I've found that this worked okay for me sometimes when I'd be playing completely solo and could think on my feet, but it wasn't always great when playing with my dad or anyone else because we always felt afterwards that there was too much discussion and down-time between songs. When you're playing solo and thinking ahead, you can put a pretty good spontaneous set together. But then there are nights when you have that indecision. I like having a setlist.
So every time we play I try and take the time to put together a show that I would want to go see. It can be a mis-fire because you never know what the ebb and flow of the crowd in any given venue will be. But I create every setlist with the (yes, completely misguided) philosophy that every person there has come to watch us perform from start to finish. Whether we're playing a stage, a restaurant, or a coffeeshop, I like to pretend that we're headliner material. That means we start strong and finish stronger. I like to put lots of highs and lows in there, and I try my best to keep people guessing. I figure that if we can get someone to like one song, they may hate the next one and stick around just to see what we'll do next. That's why we might go straight from Johnny Cash to Cee Lo Green to Third Eye Blind. And I like to do things that way. I want to play what I want to play.
One thing that's really important to me in our shows is that we do justice to every song in the setlist. Sometimes I'll compose the list with a theme in mind, whether it's upbeat, mellow, or just downright sad. I confess that the sets often follow my mood at the time of the show. That's not always a fun thing. I was having a weird night about a year ago and decided to play "You Can't Always Get What You Want" with our "Round Here"/"Use Somebody" mash-up. I remember that was one that I might have gotten a little too into, because I started shaking so badly that we had to take a short break before the next song. But, since I judge every show by how much I put into it, I would say that it was worth it to make the performance believable.
Doing justice to every song also means that sometimes you cut something when you get to it. This could be because you're not in the mood or because maybe you're not one hundred percent sure of just one little lyric. If I think something in the set can only end in disaster, then it's gone. Then there are times when get to a point in a show and I think of something that we absolutely have to play right then. If I ever get that feeling, that's what we do. (Sometimes we also have to do this if we don't plan enough songs to fill the time.) It's really cool when you get rolling in a show and songs just start coming to you out of nowhere. That usually means you're really feeling it, and for some reason it usually means the crowd is too. Those are great nights.
I just finished putting together a solo acoustic setlist for tomorrow night's short-notice show at the Purple Pig. It's got 34 songs, and there are a lot in there that I don't play very often. But hey, those are the ones I think I'm going to feel like playing!
So I'll close tonight's post with a video of one of my favorite songs by Counting Crows. The first time I ever heard this one was in concert at the minor league ballpark in Tulsa. Earlier in the night, Adam Duritz had mentioned (in albeit a fuzzy kind of way) that he hadn't had such a good day. The setlist that night seemed to perfectly reflect that, and the music did not suffer for it. It was like they just decided to pick appropriate songs. But when they came out and played this one (which wouldn't show up on a record until many months later) for an encore, it all just seemed perfect. It was one of the most intense performances of anything I've ever seen to this day. So here's the best live video I could find online of their amazing song, "Cowboys". Hope you enjoy it as much as I do!
I've written less than 30 original songs in my short time so far as a songwriter, but, playing locally, there's also the understanding that we as performers will play lots of covers at our gigs. So I can add all of the covers in with those and I end up with a catalog of over 200 different songs that we've performed. Shows generally last anywhere from 1 to 4 hours, depending on the venue and whether or not you might be the opener or the closer. So I've come to understand that the art of the setlist is just as important as the art of playing the individual songs in that setlist. Putting together a show from so many choices can be a lot of fun, or it can be just another thing to stress you out. And I think almost every performer has their own way of going about it.
I know that a lot of our friends who like to play at local restaurants may skip the setlist altogether. Sometimes this is because they're planning to just go with the flow and/or take requests. When we first started playing at different eateries we would put out laminated lists of about 100 songs from which we would take requests. It's definitely a great way to make tips and it's always nice to be able to please the crowd in a very specific way, but there were a couple of problems with this for me. The first was that we would end up playing a few songs three or four times in a single night. I'm not a fan of doing that, and I always felt bad for those who had come to watch the performance and had to sit through repeats. The second problem was that sometimes there are songs that you just don't feel like playing. That's okay for some types of performances, but I feel like I have to put tons of emotion into my shows to make them entertaining, so if I'm not feeling a song it's just not going to sound good. So I learned after a few months that I probably wasn't going to be the "by-request" guy.
Another method that we've seen a lot of great local musicians use is printing out one long list of all (or a subset of) their songs and choose from those on-the-fly during the performance. What's great about that is that you come prepared but you still have lots of freedom to read the crowd and keep playing tunes that they'll respond to. (Again, tips are nice, but so is lots of applause.) I've found that this worked okay for me sometimes when I'd be playing completely solo and could think on my feet, but it wasn't always great when playing with my dad or anyone else because we always felt afterwards that there was too much discussion and down-time between songs. When you're playing solo and thinking ahead, you can put a pretty good spontaneous set together. But then there are nights when you have that indecision. I like having a setlist.
So every time we play I try and take the time to put together a show that I would want to go see. It can be a mis-fire because you never know what the ebb and flow of the crowd in any given venue will be. But I create every setlist with the (yes, completely misguided) philosophy that every person there has come to watch us perform from start to finish. Whether we're playing a stage, a restaurant, or a coffeeshop, I like to pretend that we're headliner material. That means we start strong and finish stronger. I like to put lots of highs and lows in there, and I try my best to keep people guessing. I figure that if we can get someone to like one song, they may hate the next one and stick around just to see what we'll do next. That's why we might go straight from Johnny Cash to Cee Lo Green to Third Eye Blind. And I like to do things that way. I want to play what I want to play.
One thing that's really important to me in our shows is that we do justice to every song in the setlist. Sometimes I'll compose the list with a theme in mind, whether it's upbeat, mellow, or just downright sad. I confess that the sets often follow my mood at the time of the show. That's not always a fun thing. I was having a weird night about a year ago and decided to play "You Can't Always Get What You Want" with our "Round Here"/"Use Somebody" mash-up. I remember that was one that I might have gotten a little too into, because I started shaking so badly that we had to take a short break before the next song. But, since I judge every show by how much I put into it, I would say that it was worth it to make the performance believable.
Doing justice to every song also means that sometimes you cut something when you get to it. This could be because you're not in the mood or because maybe you're not one hundred percent sure of just one little lyric. If I think something in the set can only end in disaster, then it's gone. Then there are times when get to a point in a show and I think of something that we absolutely have to play right then. If I ever get that feeling, that's what we do. (Sometimes we also have to do this if we don't plan enough songs to fill the time.) It's really cool when you get rolling in a show and songs just start coming to you out of nowhere. That usually means you're really feeling it, and for some reason it usually means the crowd is too. Those are great nights.
I just finished putting together a solo acoustic setlist for tomorrow night's short-notice show at the Purple Pig. It's got 34 songs, and there are a lot in there that I don't play very often. But hey, those are the ones I think I'm going to feel like playing!
So I'll close tonight's post with a video of one of my favorite songs by Counting Crows. The first time I ever heard this one was in concert at the minor league ballpark in Tulsa. Earlier in the night, Adam Duritz had mentioned (in albeit a fuzzy kind of way) that he hadn't had such a good day. The setlist that night seemed to perfectly reflect that, and the music did not suffer for it. It was like they just decided to pick appropriate songs. But when they came out and played this one (which wouldn't show up on a record until many months later) for an encore, it all just seemed perfect. It was one of the most intense performances of anything I've ever seen to this day. So here's the best live video I could find online of their amazing song, "Cowboys". Hope you enjoy it as much as I do!
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
I tried it once, it never caught on...
I've only been playing guitar for a few years. These days I have to be more diligent and serious about my practice sessions because it seems like I'm always preparing for one show or another. The amount of time I have to just sit around and jam seems to get shorter all the time. But at one point I would just sit in my living room for a couple of hours every night, running endlessly through random verses of one song after another. Whatever came to mind is what I played. I didn't make it all the way through individual songs most of the time. Instead I let my emotions take the wheel and the music would determine the course all on its own.
This seemed similar to what I'd seen many of the bands I like doing in concert. Right in the middle of one of their own songs they might insert a portion of another song before returning back to the original song being played. I've always been so impressed with how something like that can just work and feel completely natural. But then I see people doing the same thing in other situations that just fall flat for me. In my opinion, one of the biggest perpetrators of this is the television show Glee. While some of their "mash-ups" make sense, I find that the vast majority just tend to irritate me. I've never been a fan of medleys of songs that don't go together. I feel like if you combine multiple songs then the product should be greater than the sum of its parts. I figure it was fine for me to do back when I was just playing around in my living room, but when I do it on stage I prefer to use these combinations to tell stories and try and create something greater.
In the fall of 2010 we had just begun going to Open Mic Night every week. One of our preferred songs to play when we took the stage was one that I mentioned in a previous post - "Just Like Me" by Will Hoge. It's such a mean and sarcastic country/blues anthem, and it was always a good chance for us to get loud. One night we started playing the intro and I moved up to start singing into the mic, but it wasn't the first line of "Just Like Me" that came out. It was the chorus of "She Doesn't Get It" by the Format, sung in a slow, sneering drawl...
Please watch the video, I guarantee it'll make you smile:
Now, anyone familiar with both Will Hoge and the Format should know that you'd be hard-pressed to find two artists with a bigger difference in sound and style. But as I finished the with the chorus to "She Doesn't Get It" I moved smoothly into the bridge of the song and it served as just that, a bridge right into the beginning of "Just Like Me". Putting them together made the final outcome into something that felt natural and more specific to who I was as an artist than either of the individual songs could have been standing alone.
I've seen my favorite band, Counting Crows, about eight times (if memory serves correctly). They seem to do a better job than anyone else I've seen at seamlessly combining their own songs with those of others to enhance the meaning of both. They tend to do it more often with their "bigger" songs, those popular anthems from their debut album, August and Everything After. We've performed several of those at our shows in the past, sometimes doing the same mash-ups that they've become known for. But at a show in the early part of 2011 we made something entirely new using one of those songs.
"Round Here", the first track off of August, had slowly worked its way into our sets, but only every once in a while. When we'd started performing it I was still on the tail end of working through the dark period that would later define my first round of songwriting. "Round Here" perfectly resonated with me and why I'd decided to start performing in the first place. That's the beautiful thing about a great song - different people can relate to it on different levels and find their own personal meaning in the words. Sometimes when we'd play this particular song it wouldn't have any effect on me at all, but sometimes we'd play it and I'd be so overcome with emotion that it would be hard to finish.
We were playing on a Saturday night and had included "Round Here" towards the end of the set. We've always had to do it that way because it puts so much strain on me vocally that I can't do very many songs after it. Something really cool happened when we got to the breakdown part of the song. Even though the chord progressions didn't match, I immediately went into the opening lines of "Use Somebody" by Kings of Leon. While, in the past, this song had had a special and positive significance for me, I changed up just a few of the words, combining all of the verses into something angrier that weaved in and out of the last part of "Round Here" until I felt like I wasn't even singing a mash-up of cover songs anymore. It somehow expressed all of the feelings I had about feeling used and wanting to lash out through my voice and music, about feeling marginalized and wanting to fight to prove my worth.
Yes, I know that "Use Somebody" isn't really about that, but if you change two or three words in that song, it pretty much gives it a new and darker meaning.
One of our most popular covers is "Kill" by Jimmy Eat World. The first of the "two" in These Two Shall Pass made me play "Kill" for her every night back when we were together. And, ironically, the imagery in that song became somewhat prophetic for that relationship. That's another story for another day, but I include it here to mention that I've always found a wealth of material for extending the personal side of the story I use this Jimmy Eat World song to tell. We've included lyrics to songs by Counting Crows, Ron Pope, the Gaslight Anthem, and several others. But the song that randomly pops up in "Kill" the most often is "Disloyal Order of the Water Buffaloes" by Fall Out Boy.
The chorus to this one just fit perfectly the way "Kill" evolved into something autobiographical to me over the course of time. Take the first line of the chorus - "Boycott love, detox just to retox." That's so true; you can try and swear off opening yourself up to someone after being hurt, but it just doesn't work. Love is like a drug. And the final line of the chorus resonated with me even more. "Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy." I'll be the first to admit that our shows used to be extremely dark. My mom would often say the same thing to me, suggesting over and over that I needed to add more positive vibes to our sets. She was right, but I think singing about tragedy may have helped us to connect with more people. So all's well that ends well.
Overall, I think the mash-up can be a very powerful way of connecting yourself to an audience, but only if done tastefully and in a way that enhances both songs rather than taking away. I try my very best to always abide by that philosophy when combining songs but sometimes it doesn't work. It's okay to make mistakes as long as you learn from them, and I can honestly say that there are some mash-ups that we will NEVER do again. It sure is fun, though!
This seemed similar to what I'd seen many of the bands I like doing in concert. Right in the middle of one of their own songs they might insert a portion of another song before returning back to the original song being played. I've always been so impressed with how something like that can just work and feel completely natural. But then I see people doing the same thing in other situations that just fall flat for me. In my opinion, one of the biggest perpetrators of this is the television show Glee. While some of their "mash-ups" make sense, I find that the vast majority just tend to irritate me. I've never been a fan of medleys of songs that don't go together. I feel like if you combine multiple songs then the product should be greater than the sum of its parts. I figure it was fine for me to do back when I was just playing around in my living room, but when I do it on stage I prefer to use these combinations to tell stories and try and create something greater.
In the fall of 2010 we had just begun going to Open Mic Night every week. One of our preferred songs to play when we took the stage was one that I mentioned in a previous post - "Just Like Me" by Will Hoge. It's such a mean and sarcastic country/blues anthem, and it was always a good chance for us to get loud. One night we started playing the intro and I moved up to start singing into the mic, but it wasn't the first line of "Just Like Me" that came out. It was the chorus of "She Doesn't Get It" by the Format, sung in a slow, sneering drawl...
Please watch the video, I guarantee it'll make you smile:
Now, anyone familiar with both Will Hoge and the Format should know that you'd be hard-pressed to find two artists with a bigger difference in sound and style. But as I finished the with the chorus to "She Doesn't Get It" I moved smoothly into the bridge of the song and it served as just that, a bridge right into the beginning of "Just Like Me". Putting them together made the final outcome into something that felt natural and more specific to who I was as an artist than either of the individual songs could have been standing alone.
I've seen my favorite band, Counting Crows, about eight times (if memory serves correctly). They seem to do a better job than anyone else I've seen at seamlessly combining their own songs with those of others to enhance the meaning of both. They tend to do it more often with their "bigger" songs, those popular anthems from their debut album, August and Everything After. We've performed several of those at our shows in the past, sometimes doing the same mash-ups that they've become known for. But at a show in the early part of 2011 we made something entirely new using one of those songs.
"Round Here", the first track off of August, had slowly worked its way into our sets, but only every once in a while. When we'd started performing it I was still on the tail end of working through the dark period that would later define my first round of songwriting. "Round Here" perfectly resonated with me and why I'd decided to start performing in the first place. That's the beautiful thing about a great song - different people can relate to it on different levels and find their own personal meaning in the words. Sometimes when we'd play this particular song it wouldn't have any effect on me at all, but sometimes we'd play it and I'd be so overcome with emotion that it would be hard to finish.
We were playing on a Saturday night and had included "Round Here" towards the end of the set. We've always had to do it that way because it puts so much strain on me vocally that I can't do very many songs after it. Something really cool happened when we got to the breakdown part of the song. Even though the chord progressions didn't match, I immediately went into the opening lines of "Use Somebody" by Kings of Leon. While, in the past, this song had had a special and positive significance for me, I changed up just a few of the words, combining all of the verses into something angrier that weaved in and out of the last part of "Round Here" until I felt like I wasn't even singing a mash-up of cover songs anymore. It somehow expressed all of the feelings I had about feeling used and wanting to lash out through my voice and music, about feeling marginalized and wanting to fight to prove my worth.
Yes, I know that "Use Somebody" isn't really about that, but if you change two or three words in that song, it pretty much gives it a new and darker meaning.
One of our most popular covers is "Kill" by Jimmy Eat World. The first of the "two" in These Two Shall Pass made me play "Kill" for her every night back when we were together. And, ironically, the imagery in that song became somewhat prophetic for that relationship. That's another story for another day, but I include it here to mention that I've always found a wealth of material for extending the personal side of the story I use this Jimmy Eat World song to tell. We've included lyrics to songs by Counting Crows, Ron Pope, the Gaslight Anthem, and several others. But the song that randomly pops up in "Kill" the most often is "Disloyal Order of the Water Buffaloes" by Fall Out Boy.
The chorus to this one just fit perfectly the way "Kill" evolved into something autobiographical to me over the course of time. Take the first line of the chorus - "Boycott love, detox just to retox." That's so true; you can try and swear off opening yourself up to someone after being hurt, but it just doesn't work. Love is like a drug. And the final line of the chorus resonated with me even more. "Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy." I'll be the first to admit that our shows used to be extremely dark. My mom would often say the same thing to me, suggesting over and over that I needed to add more positive vibes to our sets. She was right, but I think singing about tragedy may have helped us to connect with more people. So all's well that ends well.
Overall, I think the mash-up can be a very powerful way of connecting yourself to an audience, but only if done tastefully and in a way that enhances both songs rather than taking away. I try my very best to always abide by that philosophy when combining songs but sometimes it doesn't work. It's okay to make mistakes as long as you learn from them, and I can honestly say that there are some mash-ups that we will NEVER do again. It sure is fun, though!
This is a dark ride...
As promised, here is the first of hopefully several posts about the origins of some of our original songs. What better way to get the ball rolling than with my personal favorite (and, in my opinion, the most emotionally powerful)? Possibly more than any of the other songs going on our debut album These Two Shall Pass, "Airport in Amsterdam" captures the story I'm trying to tell. There's a lot in that song, and it may not be as obvious upon the first listen as to what exactly it's about.
I'd like to start by sharing a little insight into one of the lines that the whole song was built around. When I was a kid, NBC began airing The John Larroquette show. I was only 13 at the time and, even though I couldn't relate directly to anything on the show, I remember what a strange draw I felt to the story. Maybe it was a weird kind of empathy. But the sitcom (if you could necessarily call it that) about a struggling alcoholic, of all things, somehow appealed to me on some primal level, even in my squeakier-than-squeaky-clean teenage years. Early on in the show, the main character tells the story of the secondhand wooden carnival ride sign hanging on his office wall that reminds him of his constant, everyday struggle. The sign just said "This Is a Dark Ride".
To this day, I couldn't tell you why I kept a mental image of that sign in my head for almost twenty years. Of all the shots caught on film that I've seen in my years of devouring pop culture and media, that's one that sticks with me in an almost haunting way. And seventeen years later it found its way into what I consider my best songwriting achievement to this point as the first line of the chorus. But it wasn't such a simple process to get there.
These Two Shall Pass is really the story of two failed relationships I had in my late twenties that, taken separately, shouldn't have left me in very bad shape. But, of course, in our youth we make mistakes that we shouldn't make, and I made the mistake of moving on to the second before I was over the first. The first relationship ended with a broken engagement. The second, in all fairness, probably had no right to end up as even a blip on the radar for me or the woman involved. It ended with a simple phone call as I was on my way to the DFW airport for an eight-day business trip to Norway. I was fine when I got on the plane, but after a sleepless night over the Atlantic I wasn't exactly in my right mind when we touched down in Amsterdam.
I spent the 2-hour layover trying to convince my coworker and friend that, while I was slightly down for the count, everything was working out for the best. It's a little fuzzy in my memory now because I know I was very tired, but I'm pretty sure that he was sick of hearing me talk about it because, knowing me, I was probably saying the same thing over and over without making much sense. Most likely I was stuck in some sort of awkward stages-of-grief loop. So he was surely as relieved as I was when we boarded our plane for the short flight to Oslo with seats in separate rows. It was time to stop running my mouth.
I didn't sleep much for that week in Oslo - the subject of my other song "Gray City". I also didn't talk about my breakup anymore. I spent a lot of time sitting on the roof of the Oslo Opera House, day and night. The time difference means that Norway is several hours ahead of Texas, and I remember sitting on top of the Opera House, looking out at the sunset over the water, and thinking about how it was getting dark where I was, while the daylight seemed to be fleeing in the direction of all those I loved, including the blown-out-of-proportion blip back home. Hence the next lines of the chorus: "Watching the light that was mine, passing on through, leaving me for you."
What I really did throughout that trip was bottle everything up inside. I don't know if that was responsible for what happened next, but it couldn't have helped. What happened next was that I projected everything I had been feeling from my failed engagement from over a year before onto the current situation and I began to treat this minor setback as simply a continuation of that old failure. Of course, this led to the artistic license I took in using the imagery of the broken engagement to describe the situation in the song. As crazy as it was, at the time these two events were practically one and the same for me.
You really see a lot of mistakes in hindsight, and this ended up being a costly one. It sent me into what I'll always remember as one of the darkest times in my life. The image of that carnival sign hanging in that bleak office came back to me, and when I began to write "Airport in Amsterdam" over a year and a half later it was the phrase on that sign that molded the song. And the song practically wrote itself. I played parts of the song for friends before it came completely together. No one seemed all that enthused. One aspect that I think may have thrown people off was the fact that the chorus doesn't end on tonic - it just kind of drops out. But I did that on purpose when I realized that was how the song was supposed to feel. There's no line that can follow "When it goes, it darkens the coast." That's the part where the whole song goes dark.
Although initial reactions during the songwriting process (this was one of the first songs I ever wrote and it came to life over a period of two to three weeks) weren't all that great, I decided to give it a shot anyway. The first time I played the song in its entirety was at a Thursday Open Mic at the Purple Pig, and I was a little emotionally wrecked when the whole place got quiet after I played it. But ever since then there's been so shortage of reactions. It is a dark song for a dark ride. But, like I've said before, sometimes those dark rides lead you to a light at the end of the tunnel.
I'd like to start by sharing a little insight into one of the lines that the whole song was built around. When I was a kid, NBC began airing The John Larroquette show. I was only 13 at the time and, even though I couldn't relate directly to anything on the show, I remember what a strange draw I felt to the story. Maybe it was a weird kind of empathy. But the sitcom (if you could necessarily call it that) about a struggling alcoholic, of all things, somehow appealed to me on some primal level, even in my squeakier-than-squeaky-clean teenage years. Early on in the show, the main character tells the story of the secondhand wooden carnival ride sign hanging on his office wall that reminds him of his constant, everyday struggle. The sign just said "This Is a Dark Ride".
To this day, I couldn't tell you why I kept a mental image of that sign in my head for almost twenty years. Of all the shots caught on film that I've seen in my years of devouring pop culture and media, that's one that sticks with me in an almost haunting way. And seventeen years later it found its way into what I consider my best songwriting achievement to this point as the first line of the chorus. But it wasn't such a simple process to get there.
These Two Shall Pass is really the story of two failed relationships I had in my late twenties that, taken separately, shouldn't have left me in very bad shape. But, of course, in our youth we make mistakes that we shouldn't make, and I made the mistake of moving on to the second before I was over the first. The first relationship ended with a broken engagement. The second, in all fairness, probably had no right to end up as even a blip on the radar for me or the woman involved. It ended with a simple phone call as I was on my way to the DFW airport for an eight-day business trip to Norway. I was fine when I got on the plane, but after a sleepless night over the Atlantic I wasn't exactly in my right mind when we touched down in Amsterdam.
I spent the 2-hour layover trying to convince my coworker and friend that, while I was slightly down for the count, everything was working out for the best. It's a little fuzzy in my memory now because I know I was very tired, but I'm pretty sure that he was sick of hearing me talk about it because, knowing me, I was probably saying the same thing over and over without making much sense. Most likely I was stuck in some sort of awkward stages-of-grief loop. So he was surely as relieved as I was when we boarded our plane for the short flight to Oslo with seats in separate rows. It was time to stop running my mouth.
I didn't sleep much for that week in Oslo - the subject of my other song "Gray City". I also didn't talk about my breakup anymore. I spent a lot of time sitting on the roof of the Oslo Opera House, day and night. The time difference means that Norway is several hours ahead of Texas, and I remember sitting on top of the Opera House, looking out at the sunset over the water, and thinking about how it was getting dark where I was, while the daylight seemed to be fleeing in the direction of all those I loved, including the blown-out-of-proportion blip back home. Hence the next lines of the chorus: "Watching the light that was mine, passing on through, leaving me for you."
What I really did throughout that trip was bottle everything up inside. I don't know if that was responsible for what happened next, but it couldn't have helped. What happened next was that I projected everything I had been feeling from my failed engagement from over a year before onto the current situation and I began to treat this minor setback as simply a continuation of that old failure. Of course, this led to the artistic license I took in using the imagery of the broken engagement to describe the situation in the song. As crazy as it was, at the time these two events were practically one and the same for me.
You really see a lot of mistakes in hindsight, and this ended up being a costly one. It sent me into what I'll always remember as one of the darkest times in my life. The image of that carnival sign hanging in that bleak office came back to me, and when I began to write "Airport in Amsterdam" over a year and a half later it was the phrase on that sign that molded the song. And the song practically wrote itself. I played parts of the song for friends before it came completely together. No one seemed all that enthused. One aspect that I think may have thrown people off was the fact that the chorus doesn't end on tonic - it just kind of drops out. But I did that on purpose when I realized that was how the song was supposed to feel. There's no line that can follow "When it goes, it darkens the coast." That's the part where the whole song goes dark.
Although initial reactions during the songwriting process (this was one of the first songs I ever wrote and it came to life over a period of two to three weeks) weren't all that great, I decided to give it a shot anyway. The first time I played the song in its entirety was at a Thursday Open Mic at the Purple Pig, and I was a little emotionally wrecked when the whole place got quiet after I played it. But ever since then there's been so shortage of reactions. It is a dark song for a dark ride. But, like I've said before, sometimes those dark rides lead you to a light at the end of the tunnel.
Monday, January 23, 2012
I believe I've waited long enough...
When I was writing the songs that will hopefully become our first record I was surprised to find that they all came at once. It was as if the floodgates of past experiences had opened up and wouldn't stop until they were completely exhausted. A couple of experiences in particular created all of that music, and it was only fitting that they were the events that created my real need to make music in the first place. When we started playing shows there was a huge aspect of the performance that was all about overcoming my fears that had resulted from a few bad things I'd put myself through. Most everyone knows that I wrote "Stand In the Same Room" about the moderate case of agoraphobia I developed after a falling-out that I forced myself to get over when we started getting more high-profile gigs.
So my first album's worth of material did end up being decidedly dark. You're supposed to write about what you know, and, unfortunately, many of the most raw and emotional events in my life up until recently had been of the darker and more traumatic nature, at least relatively speaking. When we started performing in 2009 and 2010 our sets consisted entirely of covers, and the vast majority of those were extremely dark and/or angsty. Anything the slightest bit bright or happy seemed really out of place in our shows. In fact, the first time we played "Brown-Eyed Girl" for an audience a friend informed me that it didn't make a lot of sense to sing something so peppy and wistful, given my personality. But sometime in late summer of this past year I realized that something had definitely changed. Our range of covers had expanded to include a lot more "fun" songs, even venturing into happy territory. I had one of my mini-epiphanies (like we all have) while I was listening to this song...
I realized that it felt like I was just now coming alive again after a long and dark time. Just like in the song, I was kind of learning to be myself again. The self that used to find a lot more joy in every day. Slowly but surely, our shows are getting brighter and more hopeful.
Just like with a lot of Foo Fighters songs, I find it extremely difficult to listen to "Walk" without jumping around the room (or flooring the accelerator, as the case may be). Their music has always been amazing to me because it can be the perfect desperate mix of angst and pure, soaring joy. I can still remember the first time I listened to The Colour and the Shape in its entirety while playing pool in my aunt and uncle's basement. "Monkey Wrench" grabbed me immediately, but when I got to "Everlong" it was like a life-changing musical turning point for me. I don't know how many times over the years since that I've listened to that song over and over. It captured every shred of emotion I felt as a teenager and over the years that's never gone away. I've been a fan my entire adult life, and I also continue to believe that the Foo Fighters make better music videos than anyone. As goofy as they can be, they still evoke all of the intensity present in the songs themselves.
Lately, though, "Walk" seems to be speaking to me more and more. I also feel like the video has a lot to say about wanting to break out of the boxes that we're forced into in life. Do you ever look around and get the feeling that everyone seems to be trying too hard to fit into a certain stereotype when you only want to be yourself? Maybe some of the things I've been seeing in the music industry are just a microcosm of that, but I feel frustrated all the time. We're certainly not hurting for gigs or support from our friends and fans, but the nature of the beast sure does make it hard to grow locally. I'm extremely thankful to the venues who are open-minded enough to take a chance on artists who don't fit the stereotypes. We were able to play to a huge crowd at Sadler's Kitchen this past Saturday night and it was very humbling to be included in the roster of artists they've had there lately. Every week they've been including musicians from different genres. This is par for the course at most of the venues where we play, but there seem to be a lot of places who don't make it easy for newer or unknown acts to break into the rotation. We've got a long way to go in breaking down those walls, but we're blessed to know other musicians who share our vision of opening up the music community in East Texas.
I know that for a long time I said that I didn't feel the need to make a record. I get frustrated with seeing artists who run into the studio and spend money to put out a single for each individual song they write just so they can have another tool to market themselves. I feel like hard work and the music should speak for themselves and I've always placed more importance on playing shows and getting better at what we do. But making this record is NOT (and I can't stress this enough) just a means to over-produce and over-sell myself. More than 20 songs were written, practiced, performed, and re-worked over and over before I determined that there is a true record in there. I don't know if I ever really thought it would get to this point, but this has now become a piece of art that exists in its entirety in my head. It just needs to be recorded so I can hold it in my hand. I'm not trying to be a star and I'm not chasing any illusions...it just feels very important to make this record and to keep it true to who I am by telling this story.
So I'd like to challenge all our friends to continue to help us fight for substance over style, and, whatever your style, keep keeping your music real and true to who you are. It's okay to not be a good fit for certain audiences. Do what you do, and maybe you'll win over some new fans that you wouldn't have expected. For me, today was one of those days (we all have them) where I just didn't feel like playing music, but overall I feel more energized than ever! We're so blessed to get to share music and it's something I want to keep doing. I can't wait until my writing catches up to the happiness I feel these days so maybe we can make a joyful record to go along with the sad one we're making right now. Sometimes the only way out is through and I'm happy to say that it sure is a relief to feel like you've reached the light at the end of the tunnel. In spite of all the setbacks, I feel like I'm learning to walk again. Just wait until I start to run.
So my first album's worth of material did end up being decidedly dark. You're supposed to write about what you know, and, unfortunately, many of the most raw and emotional events in my life up until recently had been of the darker and more traumatic nature, at least relatively speaking. When we started performing in 2009 and 2010 our sets consisted entirely of covers, and the vast majority of those were extremely dark and/or angsty. Anything the slightest bit bright or happy seemed really out of place in our shows. In fact, the first time we played "Brown-Eyed Girl" for an audience a friend informed me that it didn't make a lot of sense to sing something so peppy and wistful, given my personality. But sometime in late summer of this past year I realized that something had definitely changed. Our range of covers had expanded to include a lot more "fun" songs, even venturing into happy territory. I had one of my mini-epiphanies (like we all have) while I was listening to this song...
I realized that it felt like I was just now coming alive again after a long and dark time. Just like in the song, I was kind of learning to be myself again. The self that used to find a lot more joy in every day. Slowly but surely, our shows are getting brighter and more hopeful.
Just like with a lot of Foo Fighters songs, I find it extremely difficult to listen to "Walk" without jumping around the room (or flooring the accelerator, as the case may be). Their music has always been amazing to me because it can be the perfect desperate mix of angst and pure, soaring joy. I can still remember the first time I listened to The Colour and the Shape in its entirety while playing pool in my aunt and uncle's basement. "Monkey Wrench" grabbed me immediately, but when I got to "Everlong" it was like a life-changing musical turning point for me. I don't know how many times over the years since that I've listened to that song over and over. It captured every shred of emotion I felt as a teenager and over the years that's never gone away. I've been a fan my entire adult life, and I also continue to believe that the Foo Fighters make better music videos than anyone. As goofy as they can be, they still evoke all of the intensity present in the songs themselves.
Lately, though, "Walk" seems to be speaking to me more and more. I also feel like the video has a lot to say about wanting to break out of the boxes that we're forced into in life. Do you ever look around and get the feeling that everyone seems to be trying too hard to fit into a certain stereotype when you only want to be yourself? Maybe some of the things I've been seeing in the music industry are just a microcosm of that, but I feel frustrated all the time. We're certainly not hurting for gigs or support from our friends and fans, but the nature of the beast sure does make it hard to grow locally. I'm extremely thankful to the venues who are open-minded enough to take a chance on artists who don't fit the stereotypes. We were able to play to a huge crowd at Sadler's Kitchen this past Saturday night and it was very humbling to be included in the roster of artists they've had there lately. Every week they've been including musicians from different genres. This is par for the course at most of the venues where we play, but there seem to be a lot of places who don't make it easy for newer or unknown acts to break into the rotation. We've got a long way to go in breaking down those walls, but we're blessed to know other musicians who share our vision of opening up the music community in East Texas.
I know that for a long time I said that I didn't feel the need to make a record. I get frustrated with seeing artists who run into the studio and spend money to put out a single for each individual song they write just so they can have another tool to market themselves. I feel like hard work and the music should speak for themselves and I've always placed more importance on playing shows and getting better at what we do. But making this record is NOT (and I can't stress this enough) just a means to over-produce and over-sell myself. More than 20 songs were written, practiced, performed, and re-worked over and over before I determined that there is a true record in there. I don't know if I ever really thought it would get to this point, but this has now become a piece of art that exists in its entirety in my head. It just needs to be recorded so I can hold it in my hand. I'm not trying to be a star and I'm not chasing any illusions...it just feels very important to make this record and to keep it true to who I am by telling this story.
So I'd like to challenge all our friends to continue to help us fight for substance over style, and, whatever your style, keep keeping your music real and true to who you are. It's okay to not be a good fit for certain audiences. Do what you do, and maybe you'll win over some new fans that you wouldn't have expected. For me, today was one of those days (we all have them) where I just didn't feel like playing music, but overall I feel more energized than ever! We're so blessed to get to share music and it's something I want to keep doing. I can't wait until my writing catches up to the happiness I feel these days so maybe we can make a joyful record to go along with the sad one we're making right now. Sometimes the only way out is through and I'm happy to say that it sure is a relief to feel like you've reached the light at the end of the tunnel. In spite of all the setbacks, I feel like I'm learning to walk again. Just wait until I start to run.
Monday, January 16, 2012
New anthems to breathe...
Saturday night we headed over to Java Jams expecting to play to a small, rather subdued, crowd. I had posted on the facebook event page that I was going to be telling the stories behind some of our songs and I had planned to give the set a nice and relaxed coffeeshop vibe, even under those bright flourescents. I did not see the night unfolding the way it did. Since the place was already starting to fill up, we started 10 minutes early and by the end of the night we had extended a 23-song set to somewhere in the 30-song range. On top of that, we finally just gave up on the whole "mellow" thing and decided to blast the place out, concluding with a raucous and extended cover of the Gin Blossoms' "Hey Jealousy", which we hadn't played at all in several months. It was nice, considering that it was the first song we performed at our very first gig back in November of 2009.
I've had a lot of discussions with friends and family over the last few weeks about what the next step for our music really needs to be, and, as promised, this is the first place I wanted to bring our latest news. After a lot of talking and soul-searching, we've decided that it's time to finally make that record. I wrote and cut rough tracks of more than 25 songs in 2011, and over the past couple of days we've determined which 13 will make up the first record, entitled "These Two Shall Pass". Now, those of you familiar with the stories behind many of these songs will probably be able to immediately tell which songs are going to make it onto the LP and which ones aren't. Why? Because this album is going to tell a story, just like I hope the one after that will, and the one after that. Several of the songs you've heard are going to be saved for those other records.
The response we've received from both friends and strangers to the meaning and truthfulness in our original music has been more overwhelming than I ever would have guessed, and as a result very humbling. You've probably guessed that this record is going to have a lot of "sad" to it, and that's true. But I hope that more than anger and sadness, the songs we're putting together will still reveal an underlying message of hope amid the gray. For me, there's no anger or sadness in music that doesn't stem from love. Sure, it's fun to stagger around on stage acting bitter and spiteful, and those are very real emotions, but what's the point in writing songs like "Stand In the Same Room" and "Wales" just to be mean? I hope that someone can relate to them and that hearing and singing along can be as therapeutic for them as the writing was for me. It's a win-win-win. I get to sing, someone gets to enjoy it, and one of my not-so-evil-after-all ex-girlfriends gets immortalized in a song. (And I hope they're ready for it because as soon as the record is done we're gonna put this music all over the place.)
In tonight's post I wanted to share some videos of just some of the singer-songwriters and songs that helped inspire the songs on the record. I feel like I'm constantly being influenced by all kinds of music and other types of art. I hope you enjoy some of these as much as I did.
Of course, anyone who's been coming to our shows for a while is familiar with the song in this first video. Will Hoge has been one of my absolute favorite musicians since I first began listening to his records in the summer of 2003. He also has one of my favorite voices in the world. If you were at any of our gigs in late 2010 or early 2011 you probably heard us play this song, "Just Like Me" towards the end of the night. Sometimes we even mashed it up with portions of the Format's "She Doesn't Get It". I love the combination of soulfulness and anger in this song. You can almost hear the sneer in his voice. I think it's easy to see where this song served as inspiration for some of my music. Hope you like it!
Another one of my favorite performers and songwriters is Matt Nathanson, and I don't know if any of his songs ever had a bigger effect on me both personally and as a songwriter than "Answering Machine". I can't think of a single relationship-related emotion that's not present in this song. It's tough when you save that one voicemail because you need to hold on to that chance to hear her voice, but once you cross that threshold of no longer wanting or needing to hear it, going in to get rid of it can be even worse. Check it out - if you know me it'll be obvious why I like this one and where it had its influence on my writing:
Okay, this next video is from Matthew Good, a Canadian musician who constantly blows me away with his dark and intense songwriting ability. I'm looking forward to hopefully seeing him in concert next month for the first time. It would take me a while to list all of his songs that have profoundly affected me as a musician, but "Born Losers" has a special significance in the long road to our first record. I'll probably write a whole blog entry about it sometime. Here ya go!
Finally, a track from Dashboard Confessional (originally featuring Adam Duritz on backup vocals) that really inspired the tone and imagery I tried to invoke for the overall feel of several songs that are going on our record, most notably "Summer Never Came". It makes me think of the haze through which we sometimes view the past. More on this later. I'll let you read and come to your own conclusions for now because a full entry on that particular song will be forthcoming in the next few days. What a beautiful song this is...
I hope you enjoy these songs as much as I do! Until next time, happy listening...
I've had a lot of discussions with friends and family over the last few weeks about what the next step for our music really needs to be, and, as promised, this is the first place I wanted to bring our latest news. After a lot of talking and soul-searching, we've decided that it's time to finally make that record. I wrote and cut rough tracks of more than 25 songs in 2011, and over the past couple of days we've determined which 13 will make up the first record, entitled "These Two Shall Pass". Now, those of you familiar with the stories behind many of these songs will probably be able to immediately tell which songs are going to make it onto the LP and which ones aren't. Why? Because this album is going to tell a story, just like I hope the one after that will, and the one after that. Several of the songs you've heard are going to be saved for those other records.
The response we've received from both friends and strangers to the meaning and truthfulness in our original music has been more overwhelming than I ever would have guessed, and as a result very humbling. You've probably guessed that this record is going to have a lot of "sad" to it, and that's true. But I hope that more than anger and sadness, the songs we're putting together will still reveal an underlying message of hope amid the gray. For me, there's no anger or sadness in music that doesn't stem from love. Sure, it's fun to stagger around on stage acting bitter and spiteful, and those are very real emotions, but what's the point in writing songs like "Stand In the Same Room" and "Wales" just to be mean? I hope that someone can relate to them and that hearing and singing along can be as therapeutic for them as the writing was for me. It's a win-win-win. I get to sing, someone gets to enjoy it, and one of my not-so-evil-after-all ex-girlfriends gets immortalized in a song. (And I hope they're ready for it because as soon as the record is done we're gonna put this music all over the place.)
In tonight's post I wanted to share some videos of just some of the singer-songwriters and songs that helped inspire the songs on the record. I feel like I'm constantly being influenced by all kinds of music and other types of art. I hope you enjoy some of these as much as I did.
Of course, anyone who's been coming to our shows for a while is familiar with the song in this first video. Will Hoge has been one of my absolute favorite musicians since I first began listening to his records in the summer of 2003. He also has one of my favorite voices in the world. If you were at any of our gigs in late 2010 or early 2011 you probably heard us play this song, "Just Like Me" towards the end of the night. Sometimes we even mashed it up with portions of the Format's "She Doesn't Get It". I love the combination of soulfulness and anger in this song. You can almost hear the sneer in his voice. I think it's easy to see where this song served as inspiration for some of my music. Hope you like it!
Another one of my favorite performers and songwriters is Matt Nathanson, and I don't know if any of his songs ever had a bigger effect on me both personally and as a songwriter than "Answering Machine". I can't think of a single relationship-related emotion that's not present in this song. It's tough when you save that one voicemail because you need to hold on to that chance to hear her voice, but once you cross that threshold of no longer wanting or needing to hear it, going in to get rid of it can be even worse. Check it out - if you know me it'll be obvious why I like this one and where it had its influence on my writing:
Okay, this next video is from Matthew Good, a Canadian musician who constantly blows me away with his dark and intense songwriting ability. I'm looking forward to hopefully seeing him in concert next month for the first time. It would take me a while to list all of his songs that have profoundly affected me as a musician, but "Born Losers" has a special significance in the long road to our first record. I'll probably write a whole blog entry about it sometime. Here ya go!
Finally, a track from Dashboard Confessional (originally featuring Adam Duritz on backup vocals) that really inspired the tone and imagery I tried to invoke for the overall feel of several songs that are going on our record, most notably "Summer Never Came". It makes me think of the haze through which we sometimes view the past. More on this later. I'll let you read and come to your own conclusions for now because a full entry on that particular song will be forthcoming in the next few days. What a beautiful song this is...
I hope you enjoy these songs as much as I do! Until next time, happy listening...
Thursday, January 12, 2012
I need a miracle in my veins, after all...
When you creep up on less than 24 hours to your first gig in a month and realize that the laryngitis from the cold you've had for two weeks isn't going away...well, you start to get a little nervous. A few nights ago I was driving back from Dallas and found myself struggling to speak clearly. I don't even know how many shows we've done where I woke up in the morning unable to project much of anything, but every time I guess I've been blessed enough to get my voice back just in time. This time I was starting to get concerned, though. I got home a little after 10pm and went to my music collection for a little inspiration.
After some searching I settled on a few selections from one of my more recent favorite bands, Manchester Orchestra. What a catalog of music those guys have created. I don't know if it's what they intended, but very few musical acts can give the same level of quiet intensity. An example that comes to mind is the track "Apprehension" off their latest record Simple Math. Every time I hear that song it affects me so much that it literally makes me feel nervous and, well, apprehensive. There's this sparseness and foreboding that builds throughout the song that makes me think about looking around every corner. That's such an easy illustration of the visceral way Manchester Orchestra's music affects me, though. Their song "I Can Feel a Hot One" grabs me by the gut - I'd love to play it but I have yet to make it through without crying. Check out this sweet music video:
;
There's only one Manchester Orchestra song we cover at our shows, and that's "The Neighborhood Is Bleeding" from the album I'm Like a Virgin Losing a Child. It's become a favorite for all of us, and when my voice "miraculously" returned around midnight that's the song I found myself leaping around my living room playing and singing at the top of my lungs. After two weeks of not being able to sing, let's just say it was kind of an ecstatic experience. I don't think there's a music video for this one; otherwise I'd definitely post it. It's such a great song. And it sure got me back in the mood to perform. I played for a good two hours that night and broke a decent sweat. That's what listening to great music does to me. It puts me in the mood to get on stage and just go crazy.
The next night we had one of our best nights at KE Cellars yet. Even though it was a Tuesday (which in the past has been a slow night there for us), lots of our friends showed up and I think we made a good impression on a lot of folks unfamiliar with our music. I do know that we were louder than we've ever been there on a weeknight. I'm excited to tone it down and get a little bit rootsy Friday night playing at the Purple Pig with Walker, and then my dad and I will play another totally different style of set Saturday at Java Jams. But our first show back was exactly what we needed. Lots of energy, lots of motivation for the next few weeks.
Oh, and here's one more beautiful music video from Manchester Orchestra for "Simple Math"...
After some searching I settled on a few selections from one of my more recent favorite bands, Manchester Orchestra. What a catalog of music those guys have created. I don't know if it's what they intended, but very few musical acts can give the same level of quiet intensity. An example that comes to mind is the track "Apprehension" off their latest record Simple Math. Every time I hear that song it affects me so much that it literally makes me feel nervous and, well, apprehensive. There's this sparseness and foreboding that builds throughout the song that makes me think about looking around every corner. That's such an easy illustration of the visceral way Manchester Orchestra's music affects me, though. Their song "I Can Feel a Hot One" grabs me by the gut - I'd love to play it but I have yet to make it through without crying. Check out this sweet music video:
;
There's only one Manchester Orchestra song we cover at our shows, and that's "The Neighborhood Is Bleeding" from the album I'm Like a Virgin Losing a Child. It's become a favorite for all of us, and when my voice "miraculously" returned around midnight that's the song I found myself leaping around my living room playing and singing at the top of my lungs. After two weeks of not being able to sing, let's just say it was kind of an ecstatic experience. I don't think there's a music video for this one; otherwise I'd definitely post it. It's such a great song. And it sure got me back in the mood to perform. I played for a good two hours that night and broke a decent sweat. That's what listening to great music does to me. It puts me in the mood to get on stage and just go crazy.
The next night we had one of our best nights at KE Cellars yet. Even though it was a Tuesday (which in the past has been a slow night there for us), lots of our friends showed up and I think we made a good impression on a lot of folks unfamiliar with our music. I do know that we were louder than we've ever been there on a weeknight. I'm excited to tone it down and get a little bit rootsy Friday night playing at the Purple Pig with Walker, and then my dad and I will play another totally different style of set Saturday at Java Jams. But our first show back was exactly what we needed. Lots of energy, lots of motivation for the next few weeks.
Oh, and here's one more beautiful music video from Manchester Orchestra for "Simple Math"...
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Believe in me as I believe in you...
During the time when music started to become an integral part of my life, I began to realize that the artists, songs, and records that I gravitated toward all seemed to have something in common. As diverse as my musical tastes may have appeared, there was something specific that I was always looking for. I guess the reason that I never really got into a lot of bubblegum pop music is that it just seemed so easy. I never felt like there was nearly enough emotion going into it. When I look back at the songs that really shaped my teenage years and set me on my musical path, I think about songs like Rain King, Everlong, and Semi-Charmed Life. As dissimilar in mood as they might sound at first listen (some more accessible to the general public than others), those songs all shared an intensity that became my standard for judging whether or not I liked a piece of music. I think the last song I mentioned said it best for me - "The four right chords can make me cry."
When I was old enough (and had the means) to go to concerts more frequently I always found myself enjoying most those shows where a lead singer would get so absorbed in the music, so consumed by the moment, that he would almost appear uncomfortable delivering the lyrics. There's something very beautiful about the honesty in those songwriters and musicians who will bare so much of their souls for the sake of reaching an audience. I've seen self-indulgent performers before, and there's definitely a difference. I'll gladly go to a show where the frontman isn't afraid to show vulnerability, passion, and maybe a little instability. In fact, my favorite concerts are those where the lead singer appears completely unhinged and only held together by the band itself. That's what music is for me. It's pure and it's raw and it's real.
The problem with trying to emulate musicians like that while performing in a small town setting is that folks don't necessarily want to see you bleed (figuratively, of course) all over the tiny stage in the corner of the restaurant where they're trying to enjoy their dinner. I can totally understand and appreciate that, so it's limited our choices as to where we can perform. But I do feel that my vision for my music isn't one that I can compromise. I really enjoy going out for a nice meal while someone is playing fun and chill music on the other side of the room. And there are times that I wish I was that kind of artist. Sadly, I just don't know that it's in me. I try to play these nice and relaxed venues, but when I go relaxed I inevitably also go soft and melancholy. It's nice sometimes, but I'm trying not to make a habit of it. I'm just a little more comfortable being allowed to go a bit crazy. Fortunately, we're blessed to have found a growing group of fans who prefer to connect with that.
We've got a lot of shows coming up at new and old favorite venues. Some of them are going to be louder and crazier than others but it's my goal in 2012 to never compromise on the intensity. So that's my current theme. In the next few posts I'll try to give some recommendations on some of my more recent favorite albums that I think really inspire me in that respect. Hope everyone's year is getting off to a great start, and we'll see you at some shows!
When I was old enough (and had the means) to go to concerts more frequently I always found myself enjoying most those shows where a lead singer would get so absorbed in the music, so consumed by the moment, that he would almost appear uncomfortable delivering the lyrics. There's something very beautiful about the honesty in those songwriters and musicians who will bare so much of their souls for the sake of reaching an audience. I've seen self-indulgent performers before, and there's definitely a difference. I'll gladly go to a show where the frontman isn't afraid to show vulnerability, passion, and maybe a little instability. In fact, my favorite concerts are those where the lead singer appears completely unhinged and only held together by the band itself. That's what music is for me. It's pure and it's raw and it's real.
The problem with trying to emulate musicians like that while performing in a small town setting is that folks don't necessarily want to see you bleed (figuratively, of course) all over the tiny stage in the corner of the restaurant where they're trying to enjoy their dinner. I can totally understand and appreciate that, so it's limited our choices as to where we can perform. But I do feel that my vision for my music isn't one that I can compromise. I really enjoy going out for a nice meal while someone is playing fun and chill music on the other side of the room. And there are times that I wish I was that kind of artist. Sadly, I just don't know that it's in me. I try to play these nice and relaxed venues, but when I go relaxed I inevitably also go soft and melancholy. It's nice sometimes, but I'm trying not to make a habit of it. I'm just a little more comfortable being allowed to go a bit crazy. Fortunately, we're blessed to have found a growing group of fans who prefer to connect with that.
We've got a lot of shows coming up at new and old favorite venues. Some of them are going to be louder and crazier than others but it's my goal in 2012 to never compromise on the intensity. So that's my current theme. In the next few posts I'll try to give some recommendations on some of my more recent favorite albums that I think really inspire me in that respect. Hope everyone's year is getting off to a great start, and we'll see you at some shows!
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Greetings and Salutations
When I think about the journey on which we embarked in 2011 with this music thing, I realize that what it really all comes down to is sharing. As mediocre a guitar player as I am, I've been playing for 5 years but it wasn't until I started getting the opportunity to play for a true audience that it started to feel like I was doing something that mattered. I could sit around the house and learn songs to play to an empty room until I was blue in the face, but it just seemed tiresome. Now it feels like every show is another chance to make a new connection and maybe make a difference to someone. In the interest of making more connections and trying something new, I thought 2012 would be a good time to start sharing more online, so I've decided to start this blog.
There's still a lot of work to do as far as taking our music to the next level, and so much of what we do has been shaped by our friends, fans, and collaborators along the way. So what next step could possibly be better than sharing more of what we're doing and why we're doing it? I'd like to use this blog to talk about the music that's influenced me as well as our own music and that of fellow musicians in the area. Eventually I'll be writing entries that talk about the stories behind some of my songs, and I also hope to share info about the album we may or may not get around to making in the coming months. It seems like I've built up quite a catalog of original music, so it's going to be very interesting to see which songs make it onto the first record to tell the best story possible. It's definitely not a task that we're taking lightly.
I've also been thinking a lot lately about how to define our music. It's not something I like to do personally, but it gets tough when you're trying to book a venue and they need something to put down in black and white. East Texas can be a tough place to find work as a musician if you don't fall into specific categories, but I continue to be inspired by the groups out there that I see pushing the envelope and refusing to fit the stereotypes. For months I only played in gigs with my dad and we seem to have developed our own distinctive sound. It's something I'm really proud to be a part of because I think we're unique in what we do. But I've also noticed that my sound does change when I play solo shows. It's been nice to collaborate in different groups as well - I've had the chance to stretch my heavier "rock" chops playing in Reconstructed with my friends Walker Waggonner and Paula Coots, and in recent weeks it's been a lot of fun to go unplugged for jam sessions at the Purple Pig doing some harmony-heavy Americana tunes. So what kind of music do I play? I still don't know and I still don't care, because it's all just rock and roll.
Hopefully in coming months I'll be able to populate this space with a few more entries of substance, but, until then, welcome to the blog!
There's still a lot of work to do as far as taking our music to the next level, and so much of what we do has been shaped by our friends, fans, and collaborators along the way. So what next step could possibly be better than sharing more of what we're doing and why we're doing it? I'd like to use this blog to talk about the music that's influenced me as well as our own music and that of fellow musicians in the area. Eventually I'll be writing entries that talk about the stories behind some of my songs, and I also hope to share info about the album we may or may not get around to making in the coming months. It seems like I've built up quite a catalog of original music, so it's going to be very interesting to see which songs make it onto the first record to tell the best story possible. It's definitely not a task that we're taking lightly.
I've also been thinking a lot lately about how to define our music. It's not something I like to do personally, but it gets tough when you're trying to book a venue and they need something to put down in black and white. East Texas can be a tough place to find work as a musician if you don't fall into specific categories, but I continue to be inspired by the groups out there that I see pushing the envelope and refusing to fit the stereotypes. For months I only played in gigs with my dad and we seem to have developed our own distinctive sound. It's something I'm really proud to be a part of because I think we're unique in what we do. But I've also noticed that my sound does change when I play solo shows. It's been nice to collaborate in different groups as well - I've had the chance to stretch my heavier "rock" chops playing in Reconstructed with my friends Walker Waggonner and Paula Coots, and in recent weeks it's been a lot of fun to go unplugged for jam sessions at the Purple Pig doing some harmony-heavy Americana tunes. So what kind of music do I play? I still don't know and I still don't care, because it's all just rock and roll.
Hopefully in coming months I'll be able to populate this space with a few more entries of substance, but, until then, welcome to the blog!
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