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.
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