Tag: david ramirez

David Ramirez Shares His Dreams on ‘All the Not So Gentle Reminders’

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

The first key to All the Not So Gentle Reminders, the sixth album by singer-songwriter David Ramirez releasing on March 21, is “Maybe It Was All a Dream,” the moody, elegiac song that opens his first LP in five years.

There are no lyrics to spell it out for the listener. It’s an instrumental, mostly a synthesizer riff over drums and a stately organ interspersed with a muffled, mysterious, and unintelligible voice. It’s more about mood – think Twin Peaks – than anything specific.

“The connection I have with it, which is a little too personal for me to share, it just felt right to open the record,” Ramirez said. “I had already gone into it knowing that I wanted some very long and dreamlike intros and outros to some of these songs. So it just seemed like a very fitting thing to have it all tie in by introducing the record with a musical number.”

The second key to the album is “Waiting on the Dust to Settle,” the second track, where Ramirez confides he doesn’t yet know where he’s headed.

“Amen, I can see it in the distance, the potential for a new beginning,” he sings. “I don’t recognize this place anymore … [I’m] waiting for the dust to settle.”

In our BGS interview below, you’ll learn the identity of the third key song on All the Not So Gentle Reminders, why it took so long to record and release the new material, and how the album’s lush string arrangements are a sign of the maturation of the artist.

The string arrangements on the album are very prominent, a counterpoint that duets with the lyrics. What brought that on?

David Ramirez: Yeah, for sure. I’ve never worked with strings before and just to kind of stay in the same lane of this dream world that I was trying to build, it made sense. … I’ve been doing this thing for a while now, but I feel like bringing strings into an album, I felt very adult for the first time. It felt good. It was really exciting.

Why did it take you five years to get this album out?

It was COVID and a breakup that kind of paralyzed me from being creative. I didn’t want to directly reference [the breakup]. There is one song on the album called “Nobody Meant to Slow You Down” that is direct from my last relationship. But the rest of it, I wanted to explore some other things.

You have Mexican heritage. Things are going badly for Mexicans and Mexican Americans — and immigrants and their families from many nations and backgrounds — in the U.S. now. Any reason you didn’t tackle that?

I have a couple of political tunes on past records and it’s something that I address during shows. This record for me, especially with the state of my heart recently going through a pretty big breakup that was extremely world-shaking for me, I didn’t want to put out for personal reasons a heartbreak record. … I did write some songs that were more social and politically heavy and I’m reserving those for an EP or my next album. I have this new song that I’ll release sometime later this year, called “We Do It for the Kids,” which is probably my most political tune to date and it’s a pretty heavy one.

To get the full effect of your songs, close attention must be paid to the lyrics. Is that a challenge during shows where people are also socializing?

I’m lucky enough to have people here in the states who’ve been following me for a while and they enjoy the lyrics. They enjoy how meditative it is. But the shows aren’t just that. I do not like going to see a songwriter and they sing for two hours and it’s just dark and depressing the whole time. So we mix in a lot of music from a lot of different records and make sure that there’s a dynamic and it’s fun and it’s funny and it’s upbeat.

Sure, there are slower and more contemplative moments. But we like to put on a show. … In Europe, they’re very polite and you can put on the most rocking show and they’re going to give you a golf clap. They’re there for the songs and the stories. So I generally have to curate a different set when I’m overseas.

You’re based in Austin, Texas. Did you grow up there?

I was born and raised in Houston, playing baseball growing up. It wasn’t until my senior year in high school that I met these fellow students who were all in theater and choir, and those relationships led me to stop playing ball and join choir and join theater and pick up an instrument and start writing my songs. I went to Dallas for a brief time to attend [Dallas Baptist University], and that’s where I started playing out in front of people for the first time, whether it was just open mics or the midnight slot at a metal club where they allowed an acoustic songwriter guy to show up and close out the evening. I was just so desperate to play that I didn’t really think twice about it. In 2007 and 2008 I lived in Nashville and then I moved here to Austin, Texas, in December of 2008 and I’ve been here ever since.

A third key track on the album is “The Music Man,” where you credit your father for helping spur you to make music.

“The Music Man” is a song I wrote about my father who gave me a Walkman when I was 10 years old. There are many people I can thank and [to whom I can] attribute my passion and my love for not just music itself, but for writing and performing it. But if I’m really upfront and honest, I think it goes back to when my father gave me his favorite cassette tapes and how that led to this life as a 41-year-old where I make records and tour the world full-time.

Who were the artists on those cassettes?

The Cars Greatest Hits. That’s obviously a rock band, but the song that I was so obsessed with was [the downbeat] “Drive.” Then I went to the Cranberries, and then to Fiona Apple, and then I went to Sarah McLachlan and that led to Radiohead.

… There’s this melancholy nature and mood that all those records have that at such a young age made a deep impression on me. I didn’t start playing music till seven, eight years after that, but by the time I did pick up a guitar or pick up a pen or piece of paper and start writing down my feelings, I think all those influences from such a young age really started to show their faces.

Any one artist in particular that inspired you to take up songwriting?

When I was 21 I got Ryan Adams’ Gold and that was just a big, massive influence musically for me. … That really locked in for the first time how I wanted to tell stories and what kind of stories I wanted to tell. Ryan and I don’t know each other, but his records led me to folks like Gillian Welch & Dave Rawlings, Neil Young, and Bob Dylan. He was the doorway to a lot of a lot of greats that weren’t really coming my way when I was in high school.

Are you comfortable with your music being categorized as Americana?

I don’t mind it, but I don’t really understand it either. If you say it’s Americana, people assume that it’s more country and I don’t feel that way at all. The more I do it, [I prefer] just “singer-songwriter,” because at least that offers freedom. Because every record I’ve released sounds different than the last. So at least with singer-songwriter, I can kind of have the freedom to evolve and change.

Photo Credit: Black Sky Creative

Gig Bag: David Ramirez

Posted on by Editor

Welcome to Gig Bag, a BGS feature that peeks into the touring essentials of some of our favorite artists. This month, singer/songwriter David Ramirez shows off what he has on the road with him supporting his new album, We’re Not Going Anywhere.

Books: I always bring a couple books on the road. When I’m not driving, I’m either sleeping or reading (mostly sleeping). I bring something easy, like a comic or two, as well as something a little more challenging. I had a classical guitar teacher for one semester in college who told me, “If you want to be a great writer, then you have to read.”

​A pen: I go nuts over a good pen. In fact, earlier today, I almost stole the one I used to sign my check at lunch. I was a good boy, though, and left it at the restaurant. I take a lot of notes on my phone because, let’s face it, it’s convenient but, when I’m writing with focus, I prefer pen and paper. This one is a Walkie ball point and was a gift from a friend. I’m obsessed with this pen.   

Headphones: Van time is silent time. We’ll cut up for a few minutes when we all first climb in, but eventually, headphones turn on and mouths turn off. I’m constantly losing and/or breaking headphones, so I never go all out with an incredible pair (these kind of suck) but they do cover my ears and, for that, I’m thankful. 

Fire: My bag is filled with lighters, and I always have one in my pocket. I’m not an “accessories guy” so, aside from my shades, the only thing I carry with me at all times is a lighter. Yes, I smoke, BUT you can also open a beer with a lighter, AND what lady doesn’t enjoy having her cigarette lit by a charming musician? Lighters bring people together. Even if for just an evening.  

Shades: Last, and certainly not least, my shades. Gotta have ’em. I appreciate what the sun brings to the table, but I don’t want it in my eyes. I will wear these up until the sun is barely a sliver on the horizon and sometimes well into the night. Some folks hate it and roll their eyes at me but I love wearing shades. This new-ish pair is hands down one of my all-time faves. 

Photo credit: Stefanie Vinsel

BGS Class of 2015: Songs

Posted on by Editor

What an overwhelmingly fantastic year for roots music! We couldn't fit all the greatness into our album list, so we picked another 21 of our favorite songs.

Anderson East, Delilah, "Find 'Em, Fool 'Em, and Forget 'Em"


A song from the heart of Southern soul music, AndersonEast found this little George Jackson/Rick Hall gem hiding down in Muscle Shoals and made it his own.

Brandi Carlile, The Firewatcher's Daughter, "The Stranger at My Door"

While "The Eye" would be the obviously outstanding song to pick, this little ditty is sneakily special and captures so much of what is great about Brandi Carlile.

Dave Rawlings Machine, Nashville Obsolete, "The Weekend"


It's always a good year when we get new music from Dave Rawlings Machine, and this opening track from Nashville Obsolete expresses a sentiment we can likely all relate to: hitting the weekend like a freight.

David Ramirez, Fables, "Harder to Lie"


This is one of those tunes that absolutely rocks you back on your heels with its unabashed forthrightness. Good luck getting past it to hear the rest of the record.

Drew Holcomb, Medicine, "American Beauty"


Drew Holcomb captured lightning in a bottle with "American Beauty" — a love song for anyone who has had to let go sooner than they wanted.

Glen Campbell, I'll Be Me, "I'm Not Gonna Miss You"


One of Campbell's final recordings, "I'm Not Gonna Miss You" may, at first listen, sound like a kiss-off to a former lover, but it was actually inspired by the legendary songwriter's ongoing battle with Alzheimer's, a fact that makes the depth of the lyrics and quality of the song all the more impressive.

HoneyHoney, 3, "Big Man"


Never did a song about the death of a "Big Man" sound so sweet. Suzanne Santo's voice is just about perfect … and the fiddle-laced song ain't too shabby, either.

Indigo Girls, One Lost Day, "Fishtails"


Amy Ray crafted some mighty fine tunes for the latest Indigo Girls' record, including this stunner that shows how powerful a well-placed horn part can be.

JD McPherson, Let the Good Times Roll, "Head Over Heels"


This Oklahoma boy knows how to rock ’n’ roll! Under the production guidance of Mark Neill, “Head Over Heels” sounds like the Flamingos went on an extended acid trip. Vibrato Fender dreams oscillate behind McPherson’s crooning, a chorus of handclaps, and a tack piano from Hell. Oh yeah, it’ll make you dance, too.

Julien Baker, Sprained Ankle, "Sprained Ankle"


“Wish I could write songs about anything other than death,” Julien Baker sings within the first seconds of this crippling ballad, led by an electric guitar and tritone anxiety. Having grown up in Memphis, the songwriter has the lyrical talent of a serious Delta blues player, but her music is darker and more daring than much of what Tennessee knows.

Kacey Musgraves, Pageant Material, "Good Ol' Boys Club"


Less outwardly biting than the album’s title track, this cut from Pageant Material stands out in a year dominated by a ridiculous question: Just where do women belong in the salad that is country music? Plus, that inside baseball slap-in-the-face to Big Machine is pretty rad.

LP, Muddy Waters, "Muddy Waters"


LP really knocked this darkly plodding one out of the park. Elements of it echo back to her pop past, but her bluesy roots are also showing.

Mavis Staples, Your Good Fortune, "Fight"


A collaboration with Son Little, this groovy track from Mavis Staples' EP snaps and snakes, using gospel-inspired backing vocals to drive it all home.

Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats, S/T, "S.O.B."


Ladies and germs, Nathaniel Rateliff has finally arrived. The Midwestern singer was bound to hit a new level of popularity with each year that passed — but that moment never seemed to arrive. That is, until Rateliff traded folk music for soul. Now you simply can’t escape that "S.O.B." This Stax-approved prison pen jam gets in its licks early, and washes it down with dirty bourbon.

Rayland Baxter, Imaginary Man, "Freakin Me Out"


We’re all losing our minds … some of us are just more freaked out by it than others. Rayland Baxter provides the sing-along anthem for those of us on the “more” end of the spectrum.

Rhiannon Giddens, Tomorrow Is My Turn, "Black Is the Color"


Rhiannon Giddens is known for her work with the Carolina Chocolate Drops, but she is also a formidable solo artist. This cover of an Appalachian folk tune — the excellent accompanying video for which was shot at historic Fisk University — shows off all Giddens has to offer: her soulful voice, knack for finding a groove, and ear for interpretation.

Russell Moore and IIIrd Tyme Out, It's About Tyme, "Brown County Red"


This Kyle Burnett-penned tune is filled with danger, bootlegin’, and cold-blooded murder on the banks of the Ohio River. When a moonshiner emerges from his secret corn liquor corner, he has an unfortunate run-in with the law, killing dead a few deputies. It’s the bluegrass equivalent to Juice. Kid just can’t stop killing! The best part about “Brown County Red,” is that it’s cast upon a major key backdrop. Surreal does not begin to describe it.

Ryan Culwell, Flatlands, "Flatlands"


Hailing from the great expanse of nothingness known as the Panhandle of Texas, Ryan Culwell speaks fondly of his childhood home and its understated beauty. “Take me back where I can see miles of dirt in front of me,” he sings. It’s something every God-fearing Midwesterner/Southerner knows to be true: Life is easier in the heat and emptiness of the flatlands … but we left them anyway.

Sufjan Stevens, Carrie & Lowell, "The Only Thing"


The sonic equivalent of David Foster Wallace’s “Good Old Neon,” the important distinction being that Stevens’ narrator sees Perseus twinkling in the clear night sky just in time to correct the steering wheel. 

The Weather Station, Loyalty, "Way It Is, Way It Could Be"


From the mind of Canadian songwriter Tamara Lindeman comes this tune, “Way It Is, Way It Could Be” — a meditation on the other side of the fence. The place where the grass always seems to be greenest. The song, off the fabulous Loyalty, has the snowy imagery of an Edith Wharton novel and the leary suspicion of Virginia Woolf. Lindeman sings in falsetto equanimity: “Was it a look in your eye? I wasn’t sure. The way it is and the way it could be both are.” Painted with images of frozen Quebec, this opening track sets the mood for the Weather Station’s best album yet.

Wilco, Star Wars, "Random Name Generator"


Wilco’s surprise album also had a few surprise hits, like “Random Name Generator.” Like the song’s “flame creator” protagonist, this tune packs plenty of dirt and burn. “I think I miss my family I found,” Jeff Tweedy laments, resigning himself as a father who simply names things. It is one of recent Wilco’s most affecting songs.

For more musical goodness, check out the full Class of 2015. Follow the playlist on Spotify and add your own favorite songs to it:

Laying It All on the Line: An Interview with David Ramirez

Posted on by Editor

With his fantastic new album, Fables, singer/songwriter David Ramirez breaks a three-year hiatus that was not of his choosing. He'd been on the road pretty consistently for years — traveling some 260,000 miles on his own — when a writer's block crashed the system. Like all the finest poets and philosophers before him, Ramirez dove deep into the pool of self-reflection to figure out what was happening. He emerged with what is, perhaps, his finest record to date … along with a whole new outlook on life, love, and the pursuit of happiness.

It was three years between records for you. How did you fill the down time? Were there any panic attacks involved?

Yeah, there were … quite a few, actually. Songs weren't coming. Tours were light. I wasn't doing too well, there, for a bit. I actually did book some studio time in that period, but I just didn't feel right about it. I went in for a couple of days and nothing was feeling good to me. I'm not sure why. I think some of it had to do with that I was trying to chase commercial shit, trying to write music that would do well for radio or get me a great sync [license]. I kind of stopped writing what was natural. I think that was part of it.

And the gods of music said, “No, sir. You shall NOT!” [Laughs]

They did not allow me. [Laughs] No, they did not.

You're such a road dog, I'm curious about the interplay between the two sides of making music for you. In the past, did you make records that you knew you could tour solo? And, with Fables, did you know going in that you'd tour it with a band?

Not really. Even my past records have bands on them. I got some advice a while back to make the records you want to make. Don't make a record based off what you're going to play live. You can always change it up and have different arrangements. But, if you feel moved in a certain way, just do that.

Sounds like good advice.

Yeah, I think so.

Let's talk about alone-ness. You've said that you feel like touring alone for all those years was actually a “selfish way of living.” Explain yourself, sir.

I don't think it was a selfish way of living, but I think that it developed some selfishness in me. I don't think it's selfish to tour alone. I just think being alone for as long as I was … the world just kind of revolved around me in not a very good way. And I could see that playing into my relationships — not just romantically, but friendships, even. I'd just think about myself a lot. I think that had a lot to do with being alone for so long.

You were in your little Kia bubble.

Yeah, I was in my Kia bubble … waking up when I needed to, eating what I wanted, listening to what I wanted, having silence when I wanted. I don't think it was terrible for me. I think it was really great, but I definitely think it bred a lot of self-involvement, for sure.

Well, so many people are actually afraid of being thrown into that sort of situation even for a short time. Silence and alone-ness — they can't handle it, so they bounce from relationship to relationship.

Sure. Yeah.

Did you find there really was a lot for you to learn through that time and self-reflection?

Yeah. I think I did learn a lot. One of them was that I shouldn't be alone. [Laughs]

[Laughs] Because there are also things that can only be learned in relation to others.

Absolutely. Yeah. And I think community — just the general definition of community — is something that is lost on me and something that I'm still trying to figure out. I did learn a lot. I'm good at being alone. But the age-old saying that “No man is an island” is very true. I'm trying to work that into my life a little more, so it's been really great to be out with the boys. I still find myself … even with them, the tendencies kick in and I just want to take off and go do my own thing. We're working on it. [Laughs]

[Laughs] I was going to say … because I'm one, too … I would assume you'd have to be a bit of an introvert to pull off all those miles. Even so — at least for me — there's also a craving for community, like you were saying. Don't quite know how to get it or be a part of it, but you want it.

Yeah. Yeah. There's a craving. And I'm thrilled to be out with the boys. I really am. I have not had this much fun on the road in my entire life than this Fall.

And you're still able to carve out the space you need.

Oh, yeah. I take off to have a bite by myself or just walk down the street. It's not as extreme as it used to be, but … [Laughs] I am an introvert, for sure.

[Laughs] Riddle me this … As you start to pursue more fully authentic interactions with people, do you lay that out and inform the other person so that you both have a mutual understanding of, say, “I want this friendship to be XYZ” or whatever it is? Or is it enough just for you to show up in the way that you want to and see what happens?

Unfortunately — and I'm sure you know this — as much as you plan a relationship to be a certain way, it never really turns out that way. So I think it's been good for me to learn just, “Hey, let's do this thing. I'm going to work. You're going to work. And, whatever it turns out to be, let's let that happen.” Just getting older, I've tried to force a lot less in my life, just allowed nature to take its course. And that's not saying to just roll the dice. In life, there are definitely moments where intention is necessary. But I also love the subtleties of it, the natural progressions. So I try not to approach things with, “Hey, let's do it this way!” — outside of music. But in relationships, it's “I'll give my part. You give your part. And we'll let the rest just play out.” I think that's the wiser way to approach it all, honestly.

Does that same philosophy carry over to your relationships with your fans? How's that level of engagement going?

That one's different for me, actually. I think …. goodness … I'm a fan of music, as well. I go to shows and I listen to artists. I buy records and I want to be moved. If I were to approach my heroes with my own agenda, I would not be the person who I am today.

I only know me. I don't know things outside of me and it takes other people to present those ideas or thoughts or feelings for me to be moved. I think, as fans of music or art, in general, we have to be open to the artist's mind. Otherwise, we're just going to be the same person and I don't want to be the same person. I want to be changed constantly. So I bring that same approach when I'm the one behind the microphone. I'm not going to give you what you want. If you are a fan of me, then I hope that you trust me to take you some place really great or to make you feel something that you haven't before. I want to do that.

It's interesting. For the longest time, people were like, “I prefer him solo. I don't like him with the band.” I wrestled with that for a long time and was like, “Alright, fine. Okay. I'll just be solo.” But then it was, “What am I doing?!” Creatively, I want a band. I want to see these colors and I want to have these dynamics. I want some energy, want to move around on stage. So why am I not giving people that? I think artist-to-audience is a different relationship, for sure, than a friendship.

Sure. Yeah. I talked to Jason Isbell a few months ago and one of the things we discussed was laying it all on the line — the demons and everything. He said he has to do that because the people who show up need to know who he is and understand him on a certain level. Because, if he were writing songs, but keeping his process and his life to himself, he wouldn't be an honest broker.

Yeah. I was having a conversation not too long ago about the same thing. No one's compelled by half the truth. You're only compelled by the whole truth. Whenever you can put it all out there, that's when people really change. And not just the audience — that's when I change, when I'm able to look myself in the mirror. I don't know Jason but, just based off his work, I'm sure he looks himself in the mirror and has to face that pencil and paper and really find out who he is. So, yeah. We're not compelled by half the truth. We have to put it all out there.

Which is why those half-truth songs weren't working for you.

That's right. That's absolutely right.

Photo credit: Greg Giannukos

WATCH: David Ramirez, ‘Harder to Lie’

Posted on by Editor

Even taking all 260,000 of the miles tracked and traveled by David Ramirez's 2006 Kia Rio, there were still some journeys left unaccounted for — the inner explorations he undertook while driving all that way … alone. What he realized, at the end of the road, was that he needed to do some things differently.

Three years and one writer's block later, Ramirez has emerged with Fables. Produced by Seattle singer/songwriter Noah Gundersen, it's a tale of the reckoning Ramirez went through with himself and with his girlfriend. The open-aired and open-armed production gives Ramirez's baritone voice room to roam through the songs.

The title of the set comes from “Harder to Lie.” While on vacation in Iceland, Ramirez and company were on the look out for the just-right visual setting to capture the song. They found it in Skaftafell, a preservation area in southeast Iceland.

"When my lady, our friend Clayton, and I began talking about a potential Iceland vacation, one of the first things we discussed was filming a song,” Ramirez says. “From the minute we left Reykjavik, our eyes were peeled for the perfect location. Funny thing about Iceland: Every location is perfect. One evening we crossed a long bridge that hung over a moon-like terrain. In the background were two giant, green mountains and sandwiched between them was a glacier. We pulled over at the next exit, set up camp for the night, and filmed 'Harder to Lie' the next morning. It's a one-shot, one-take video, and it took us three takes to get it just right. Hats off to Clayton Stringer for filming barefoot on black stones in 10 degrees celsius to keep the sound pure. He's a champ."

Fables drop on August 28 via Thirty Tigers.