Tag: Nanci Griffith

Fifteen Years Ago, It Took ‘Balls’ to Hear Elizabeth Cook at Her Breakout Moment

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By 2007, Elizabeth Cook had endured just about every wrong turn you can make in the country music business, but she bounced back with Balls, a breakthrough album that let the world discover one of Nashville’s most compelling artists and songwriters. To mark its 15th anniversary, she’s releasing Balls on pink vinyl and reissuing the eye-catching music video for “Sometimes It Takes Balls to Be a Woman.” Asked what goes through her mind when she watches the clip now, she simply replies, “I can’t believe I did that.”

Written with Melinda Schneider, “Sometimes It Takes Balls to Be a Woman” gave notice that Cook didn’t need major label deals, publishing contracts, or the star-making machinery of Music Row to make a name for herself. She caught up with BGS by email to talk about Balls.

BGS: How long had you and Melinda known one other when you wrote “Sometimes It Takes Balls to Be a Woman”?

I can’t remember but certainly not long. She was just one of those people who I instantly clicked with.

Nanci Griffith had a hand in helping this song get heard, right?

She did, in many ways. She witnessed about me, as she did with everything she was passionate about. Having a cheerleader like her made me believe in myself more than I could on my own at the time, especially considering my recent failures at a straight career, and as a mainstream country radio babe. Beyond that, she gave me a big stage and shared me with her audience as her opening act. I can’t say enough about her. Not to even address what she meant artistically.

I like the optimistic spirit of “Gonna Be.” And I can hear that sense of determination in your voice and in your words. After all the setbacks you faced in that era, where did you find the strength to keep on going?

Well, folks like Nanci Griffith, Rodney Crowell [who produced Balls] and David Macias showed belief in me. And honestly, I think I like a challenge in general. But at that time it is also true that I simply didn’t want to disappoint my family. I didn’t want to fail again.

On your albums, you’ve often included references to your family, and especially your parents — in this case, “Mama’s Prayers.” Do you recall their reaction to this album? Did they have a favorite song?

They were proud. “Mama’s Prayers” has a specific memory for me because I was empty-handed the night before Mother’s Day, but I had gone to the farm to be with her. She used to say, “I pray for every one of you kids every night.” As a young woman, I got tired of hearing it. But I also know that it was true. And as life got more vigorous, shall we say, I was glad to know I had one going up for me. So on that Mother’s Day eve, I wrote the song and printed it out on card stock paper. I found an old picture in a box and pulled it out of the frame, trimmed the paper and placed it in there. I propped the whole thing up on the kitchen counter, knowing she would be up well before me. Since she and the farm are long gone, it hangs in my office now.

As part of this 15th anniversary, you’ve got Balls coming out on pink vinyl. Are you a vinyl collector yourself? And if so, what do you like most about vinyl?

I am. I like the deliberate nature of it. You don’t scroll for it and click…you delicately take it from its sleeve and carefully place a literal needle on it. It’s a more intentional investment. It’s respect.

With the growth of Nashville these days, it almost feels like a history lesson when you talk about “the old days” of 2007. For those who weren’t around to experience it firsthand, how would you describe the city’s musical community back then?

Spotty. Billy Block’s Western Beat was the best scene in town by a mile. Now, I miss being able to get anywhere in 12 minutes, but I am inspired by the rivers of musical tribes all over the city and how they fork and meet.

You’ve seen a lot of changes personally and professionally over the last 15 years. What would you say has remained the same?

Hopefully my character…some of the basic things that my relatively poor and uneducated but good country folk parents sought to instill in me…how to treat people with compassion and how to stand up for myself.

WATCH: Phoebe Hunt, “Goin’ Gone” (Tribute to Nanci Griffith)

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Artist: Phoebe Hunt featuring Tabitha Meeks and Makena Hartlin (the Pitch Pipes)
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Goin’ Gone”

In Their Words: “I was introduced to the Pitch Meeting in Nashville by my dear friend Makena Hartlin. She kept telling me to come out to Sonny’s on a Tuesday here in Nashville. I had been reluctant to go anywhere during the pandemic, but this August, I felt like it was time and the Pitch Meeting graciously featured me as their guest artist. It was really special to see what can happen when a group of supremely talented individuals come together to support one another. I felt heard, held, supported and lifted up. I hadn’t played in a live setting with a full band in a really long time and it really lifted my spirits. The next week, Makena and Tabitha Meeks invited me to be a featured guest in their Pitch Pipes female songwriter showcase. Again, I was blown away by the support from these beautiful women.

“Nanci Griffith passed the day before I met up with the Pitch Pipes. My husband and I had her album, The Last of the True Believers, on repeat in our home and I felt deeply connected to her voice, her writing and the covers she chose to sing. You can hear genuine tenderness in her voice. You can feel her spirit. So, I brought ‘Goin’ Gone’ to Makena and Tabitha and asked if they would be open to learning it and paying tribute to Nanci with me. It feels sacred to sing the songs she sang in her wake. As if we can keep the music and her memory alive simply by playing the songs she held close. We’ve lost many beautiful souls lately and it feels important to sing the songs of those who pass and keep their spirit alive through the music they left behind.” — Phoebe Hunt

Photo credit: Nate Luebbe

BGS 5+5: Hardened and Tempered

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Artist: Hardened and Tempered
Hometown: Austin, Texas
Latest album: Hold the Line
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Less of a nickname than a consequence of a band name for a duo that uses the conjunction “and” is that we are often asked, “which one are you?”

Answers provided by Kristin Davidson

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

I was 12 when I discovered a mixtape of the Indigo Girls in my older sister’s room. Their songs captured my ears, mind, and heart, and remained constant company for me growing up. I think it was the first time I felt transformed and transported by music. But the pantheon of my musical influences is full of powerful writers, and I can pair just about every childhood memory with songs by Indigo Girls, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Nanci Griffith, Tracy Chapman, Lucinda Williams, Patty Griffin, Emmylou Harris, Dolly Parton, Patti Smith, and Ani DiFranco.

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc. — inform your music?

I love street photography and am drawn to the captured moments that expose the illusion of anonymity — that split second of absurdity or loneliness on a crowded street. I enjoy the process of finding words and sounds for the images that evoke emotion.

What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?

We love to laugh and try to bring a joyful lightness to the stage. We are big fans of Maria Bamford. In the second season of her show, Lady Dynamite, Ana Gasteyer’s character keeps shouting a particular line as a rallying cry that we think is hilarious. We usually say that line to each other, giggle, and then walk onto the stage.

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

Hard enough to hold an edge; soft enough not to break. The band name, Hardened and Tempered, sums up the dynamic and delicate balance we try to keep in our lives and our music. Both Carolyn and I have intense personalities, we are drawn to big adventures and hard challenges, and we work with a lot of suffering. Slowly but surely, we are learning the artful balance of easing up a little and looking for light in dark places.

Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

I have dreamed about finding refuge from a cold, big city night in a basement bar room, only to discover Nina Simone playing an impromptu set on an intimate stage. I order my favorite bourbon, but don’t drink it. How could I?!

Photo credit: Norah Levine Photography

Sarah Jarosz Studies Her Heroes While Staying True to Herself (Part 2 of 2)

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Wimberley isn’t just another “little Texas town” for Sarah Jarosz. It’s where she grew up, where she first fell in love with bluegrass, and where she found seeds of inspiration that grew into World on the Ground, her first album with producer John Leventhal and her fifth overall. From the sharp-eyed opener “Eve” to the quick-picking of closer “Little Satchel,” Jarosz gives voice to the stories of hometown life and the dreams that grow beyond it — a radically empathetic detour through her past that gives relatable depth to World on the Ground.

“Ultimately, if I’m being true to myself, if I’m moving myself within my music, then that’s the most that I can try to do as a songwriter,” she says. “That’s what has to be at the basis of any great song: a real feeling that you believe in more than anything. Even the songs where it’s written from another perspective, it’s still me in there, trying to inject what my beliefs are and what I am feeling at any given time, but in a poetic way that feels like you’re reading a story. That’s what so many great songwriters do and have done. I’m studying them and trying to honor them, but also be myself, just try to find that balance of honoring tradition and doing my own thing.”

In the second half of our two-part Artist of the Month interview, Jarosz reveals which Texas songwriters she turned to for guidance on this musical trip home, how to tackle a song about a small town, and more.

Editor’s Note: Read part one of our interview with BGS Artist of the Month Sarah Jarosz here.

The American small town is definitely well-trodden songwriting territory, and all the greats have returned to that endlessly inspirational well. Based on everything we’ve been talking about, you have different perspectives to explore, scenes to describe and a wealth of landscapes to uncover in that one place. What were you listening to when you were working on World on the Ground? Which artists did you turn to for inspiration?

Jarosz: I feel like in a way, the people I was listening to leading into this and during the recording process [were] a lot of what made me want to turn back to even writing about my Texas upbringing at all. When I was going into this, I think I had this moment. Sometimes as a writer I feel like, what should I write for the people who love my music? But I think it’s more important to say, what music do I love, and just get that zingy feeling from? How can I create that music myself? I want to write a song that I can sing and that I can believe in, because ultimately that’s all I can do.

Before John and I were locked in to work together, we met up in New York, and I played him a few ideas that I had lying around. From the get-go he was like, “Why don’t you try to change your approach and not necessarily write about your feelings and looking inward towards yourself? What if you tried to be more of a storyteller?” Just the simple act of him saying that, it changed my perspective a little bit. Simultaneously I was listening to all these Texas singer/songwriters. James McMurtry is one of my favorites of all time. I really did study his lyrics, because I think he’s one of the greatest in terms of creating these characters, but it doesn’t feel contrived — it’s like reading a novel in a song. Guy Clark, Nanci Griffith, Robert Earl Keen, Lyle Lovett — Shawn Colvin, obviously, her music was why I wanted to work with John in the first place.

I was realizing, OK, yes, so many other people have written about their hometowns — but I never have. When I started writing music as a high schooler, so much of the feeling when you’re that age is wanting to leave, writing about what you’re longing for and what’s not right in front of you. There is such a wealth of images and landscapes and memories that I have that are a part of who I am as a person, and I had never really taken the time to write about them. That’s what led to a lot of these songs. With that being said, it was never, “I want to make a concept record about my hometown.” I realized there were all these throughlines after all the songs were recorded and done.

What’s the most difficult, or moving, song for you to listen back to, or one that was hard to tackle when you were writing it?

“Maggie.” That one is based on a real person, and I don’t think that’s something that I’ve done before as a writer. Thankfully, she actually has written me since it’s been out and told me how moved she was by the song. It’s funny because there’s so much truth and honesty in a song like that, but then it’s also still being creative. The blue Ford Escape in “Maggie,” that was a car of my parents’, so it’s still songwriting and pulling images in from different inspirations but it’s not all necessary literal or the actual story.

It’s trying to pull symbols together in a way that makes the most meaning. That’s what I tried to do there. In a way, if that was the most difficult song for me to face, it’s actually turned out to be my favorite song on the record. I felt that way when we were recording it, that I was kind of hitting on something that I’ve always wanted to do and write about, but wasn’t quite ready for before. I think “Hometown” would be the other one that’s just very, very moving for me, even still, to sing — sometimes it’s hard for me to get through. Those two songs stand out in that way.

It sounds like you experienced a lot of firsts that shook up World on the Ground. How do Undercurrent and World on the Ground separate themselves in terms of the growth that went into each of them?

I think Undercurrent was a step towards wanting to just be me. The three albums prior to that were full of tons of guests on a lot of the songs. The way we made those, I would record my part, and Gary [Paczosa, who produced her first four albums] and I would invite so many of my heroes and musical friends in, and we’d just layer, layer, layer, layer with lots of different people. Undercurrent was the first album where I was like, no, this needs to be more truthful to me, and sound like that. There are four songs on that record that are literally just me and a guitar, no other instrumentation, no drums — I tried to keep things very small with that in an effort to start peeling away and finding out who I am as an artist and trying to convey that in a record format.

That felt like the beginning of that journey, and World on the Ground feels like I’m fully in that journey. I just feel like I believe in these songs more than I have in the past — nothing against my old songs, because the thing that means the most is when people say songs mean something to them, and moved them in hard and good times in their lives. I’m not trying to detract from that, but I really try to see these songs through in a lyrical way that I haven’t before. John was really key in helping me do that and trimming the fat and being really clear about what the purpose of each song, and the story that each song told. I believe in every single song so much. That’s a really kind of beautiful feeling. I’ve loved all of my records, but I haven’t felt it this strongly before.

What did World on the Ground teach you about yourself as a songwriter you didn’t already know?

It taught me that there’s always room to grow. Before I started writing this record, I had this sense of myself, where I was like, okay, these are the sorts of songs that I write, this is the vibe, and this felt like a departure from that. No matter how much you think you know or how much experience you have or whatever life has thrown your way, there’s just always more, and there’s always more to be discovered and learned. I think that was a beautiful lesson that this record taught me and sort of inspired me going forward. For me, it’s all about the songs — I think that’s also what I realized with this record. The music that I love, it all boils down to the song. That’s what I tried to focus on this time around.

Photo credit: Josh Wool

WATCH: Valerie Smith, “From a Distance” (With Claire Lynch and Irene Kelley)

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Artist: Valerie Smith (with Claire Lynch and Irene Kelley)
Hometown: Bell Buckle, Tennessee
Song: “From a Distance”
Label: The Single Factory/Bell Buckle Records

From the Artist: “It was an honor to be a part of the recording of ‘From a Distance,’ which sends a powerful message of hope, love, faith, and peace. It was beautifully written by Grammy-winning songwriter Julie Gold. When producer Midnite Mike Pokalsky called me to record this well-known song I was hesitant to do it, because Bette Midler and Nanci Griffith had already established the classic sound and captured the beauty of the lyrics. However, when I was offered the chance to share vocals with dynamic artists Claire Lynch and Irene Kelley in a new acoustic arrangement, I jumped at the chance! The all-acoustic treatment in this fresh new version really captures the meaning in the lyrics because it brings things down to the purest form. True to the song’s purpose, the recording includes a lineup of amazing instrumentalists (Becky Buller, Jim Hurst, Frank Solivan, Mike Munford, Ronald de la Vega, Mike Pokalsky). The world is really hurting right now and we can only hope that a higher power is watching over our big bright blue ball from a distance.” — Valerie Smith

“Wow, I love this beautiful version of ‘From a Distance.’ It is sung with such unadulterated purity. Just straight-ahead honesty. There’s no pretense. Just love. Val Smith gets right to the heart of the song, and right to the heart of the listener. Plain and simple GREAT.” – Julie Gold, songwriter

Photo credit: Lisa Scimeca

Darin & Brooke Aldridge’s ‘Inner Journey’ Always Leads Back to Bluegrass

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The first time they ever sang together, Darin and Brooke Aldridge harmonized on “The Prettiest Flower,” an old hymn familiar to any Baptist church. They’ve scarcely stopped since then, with their latest album Inner Journey placing their stunning musical blend at its center on classics like “Teach Your Children Well” as well as songs written by the likes of Kasey Chambers, First Aid Kit, and Nanci Griffith.

“Brooke and I have always been trying to develop our sound. On this one, we stayed true to our bluegrass roots in some of the material,” Darin says. “We’re more of a vocal band. We can base things around Brooke’s singing and our duet style and harmonies, and we want our songs to send a message out that speaks to us.”

Versatile enough to sing a Louvin Brothers song one minute and a Bryan Adams song the next, the married couple commands a musical vocabulary that nonetheless lends itself to bluegrass. Darin Aldridge co-produced the project — their first for Rounder Records and sixth overall — with Mark Fain. And on the afternoon following this interview, Brooke Aldridge picked up her third consecutive IBMA female vocalist trophy, indicating that their audience is on this journey too.

BGS: This album begins with “I Found Love,” which has a tie to Earl Scruggs, right?

Darin: It does. I listened to that on a plane ride back from somewhere in New England and I had my iPod with me and the Earl Scruggs and Friends record was on there, with Vince Gill and Rosanne Cash singing it. I just thought, “Man, that would be a good grass-up number right there for us.” It’s a pretty good tempo and a duet and it speaks to what I was just saying – about what I want to get out there, in our life and in our history, and what we want to go forward with. Then I got to looking at the writing credits and it was Earl and Randy Scruggs and our buddy Vince. That was perfect. That’s all we needed.

Brooke: It’s one of those positive songs that we set out to do a long time ago when we first started making records. We talked about how we wanted to have a positive and uplifting message in most everything that we ever recorded. Some people have told us down through the years that we weren’t going to do very well doing that kind of thing. But I think that’s not the case at all! We’ve done very well sticking true to what we love and what we believe in, in each other.

But when you hear a good heartbreak song like “Every Time You Leave,” how do you respond?

Brooke: Oh, gosh, you just realize how true those words are. Because just like “Every Time You Leave,” we’ve all been through hard relationships or hard times in our families where we’ve lost loved ones or things haven’t worked out quite the way we wanted. I think that really speaks measures to me when we’re listening to songs like that and trying to decide what’s going to affect somebody out there listening.

Darin: The harmony speaks to us as well. We got to do that song with our buddy Jimmy Fortune. We got to tour a lot with Jimmy in the last couple of years and wanted to get a good song that represented that out there on the road for our singing together, and it just comes perfectly.

I want to ask you about “Your Lone Journey.” I learned that from a Doc Watson record.

Darin: Yeah, we did, too.

Why did you choose to include that song on here?

Darin: We got to visit Doc and become friends with him through MerleFest, through him being in North Carolina. A friend of mine took me up to visit him at his house about a year before he died. We’d been featured in Bluegrass Unlimited maybe a couple months before, and Rosa Lee brought the magazine to us when we got there. She said, “I’ve been reading about you all and glad that you all are here.”

She got to telling us the story of how she wrote that song. She was just sweeping in her kitchen, wasn’t she, Brooke?

Brooke: Yeah. And I think the words just came to her. She was sweeping and her and Doc arranged it, I guess, and made it theirs. What a great-sounding song.

Darin: Yeah, we sat there with them in the living room and talked about that, and he got to talking about Merle, and when he couldn’t wait to see him in heaven with his own eyes again. It is powerful, man. We just wanted to include that and it’s got an old-timey feel to it. Brooke’s got a really good mountain voice as well. It really fits.

Brooke: What Doc and Rosa Lee had brought to the music over the years and what they mean to us — we definitely wanted to include one by them. And it was funny because Doc kept saying that a lot of people title this song, “Your Long Journey.” And he’s like, “That’s not how Rosa Lee wrote it. It’s ‘Your Lone Journey.’” We made sure to get that right on this record.

Darin, have you been playing guitar your whole life?

Darin: I started probably 12, 13, something like that.

Never put it down?

Darin: Nah, I picked up the mandolin when I was 15 or 16. My brother and his baseball buddies had a little basement band. They’d all get around — he was a drummer – and pick on rock music and stuff like that, so I slowly learned that. I’d listen to the tunes after they’d quit playing and I’d start figuring them out, so I could sit in with them. Then the next week or two, I’d learned the tunes better than they had. Then their guitar player would ask me, “How’s that really go?”

Brooke: A little Van Halen? (laughs)

Darin: Yeah, all that stuff — ‘80s hair band stuff, I was big on [that]! Then I got to singing more in church as I grew and got into a gospel band through some buddies in the marching band. They went to church somewhere and said, “You play and sing — you got a banjo?” I actually had a banjo at the time but really hadn’t learned how to play it. I was like, “Oh, yeah, I can play banjo.” So I learned real quick, just so I could be in the band and start picking and singing. And I quickly moved to the mandolin after that. One of the guys could just play in a certain amount of keys, A and D maybe.

Ricky Skaggs has always been a huge influence and I wanted to do something I saw him do on the Opry, which was a quartet with a mandolin and guitar. Since we were singing in churches a lot, I wanted to do some of that material like Bill Monroe did. I recorded [the Opry] on a VHS tape, so I went upstairs with the mandolin and watched it. This song was in G, so I sat down and figured out the notes on the mandolin. I come down there to show it to him so he could play it, because I was the guitar player in the band. He said, “No, man, you just play mandolin.” [All laugh] So I just started playing mandolin from then on.

Brooke, did you start singing when you were around 12 or 13, too?

Brooke: Probably from the time I could talk, I started singing. My mom, my sisters and I used to sing in church. As I was getting a little bit older, my parents realized at an early age that I could pick up lyrics to a song just by hearing at one time. They started putting me in singing competitions. The school system where I was, in Avery County, used to have a yearly talent show. It would start out in the elementary schools, and if you placed first, second, or third you went onto the county-wide talent show and got to showcase your talent in front of everybody.

Those kinds of things, and doing community events and competitions all throughout my childhood, really prepared me for loving this more so when I got to adulthood. And so it’s been a neat journey. After Darin and I met, I had goals and dreams, of course, just like everybody in the music business does. We still talk about how we never imagined we’d get to do some of this stuff we’ve gotten to do. It’s been really cool to see those things become reality.

What are you looking forward to the most with this record coming out?

Darin: It’s been a few years since we put one out. I think we’ve grown a lot in those two years, and everything that’s followed, with what we’ve been doing, recording, trying to say as artists. We have grown maturely, too, in our music. And I think this record reflects that.

Brooke: I think that’s why we chose the title that we did, Inner Journey, because as kids, you imagine or dream about things that you can be when you grow up. And then, when you come into adulthood, you stop and think about where you came from, and what you’ve gotten to do, and if your heart really followed that path from a child to now. And I feel like ours definitely has. It’s been our inner journey. God has put us exactly where we needed to be at that exact moment.

 

BGS 5+5: Amy Speace

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Artist: Amy Speace
Hometown: originally from Baltimore, Maryland. Currently lives in Nashville, Tennessee.
Latest album: Me and the Ghost of Charlemagne

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

I remember from way back, because I started playing piano at age 3 (or so the story goes) and started formal lessons at 5, that I could disappear into my own world at the piano, inside the sound. I didn’t understand it but inside music was always this safe space for me.

So it’s hard to pinpoint when I wanted “to be” a musician because my earliest memories are that I was a musician. I just understood music from the start. Not that I didn’t have to work and practice, but it just made sense to me. So I’d chase that feeling back to being too short for my feet to hit the pedals practicing scales on my grandmother’s black upright piano.

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc — inform your music?

Definitely all forms of storytelling. I didn’t write a song until I was about 28 but all through my childhood, I wrote poetry and stories and plays. I drew and painted. I read everything I could get my hands on. In college, I was a dual major in English and Theater and got obsessed with Shakespeare, Performance Art and Avant Garde Theater and Improv Comedy.

Then I went to NYC after college to study classical acting at The National Shakespeare Conservatory for two years and for the first time in my life started going to art museums and got lost in the big physical paintings of Pollock and Rothko. I lived in the Lower East Side and in Greenwich Village and really really loved living in that kind of Bohemia in my 20s.

I worked three jobs, one of which was as Lainie Kazan’s assistant on Broadway and in her cabaret shows, where I got the chance to meet so many legends of the theater. I hung out with dancers and clowns and actors and musicians and poets and we were all broke and idealistic and scrappy and I went to every show, every concert, every happening I could talk my way into.

I mean, there’s not really an art form out there that hasn’t moved me to tears and to want to create something of my own in response, from seeing Sondheim on Broadway to a poetry slam in the Lower East Side to my friend dancing burlesque. It all kind of informs whatever soup is all up there in my head, processing the pictures and the emotions and the memories. But when it gets down to pen on paper and crafting a song, I think that’s when film is really my guide: I think like a director/screenwriter/playwright. What’s the entry point in the story? What do you see out there? What’s the landscape like.

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

Easy. That will be the next one I write after I finish this one I’m working on. Because it’s always like starting over at the beginning and I go through all the fears that I’ll never write another good song again and I’ll just sink into the ocean of bad cliches and stolen melodies.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

Probably the earliest, honestly. I was in 8th grade, Curtin Middle School in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. I was a very awkward, permed hair, 14-year-old. Bookworm, nerd, and not really that cool. I had joined chorus for the first time (I didn’t think I was a good singer) because my best friend Laura was a good singer and convinced me to join.

The end of the year the choir did a musical theater revue. I was kind of a class ham, very theatrical, did all the accents, and the choir director gave me a solo doing “Adelaide’s Lament” from Guys and Dolls because I could fake a good thick Bronx accent. I will honestly never forget how I felt when I stepped out onstage and the lights were on me and I disappeared into this character. It felt like the crowd roared and I got a standing ovation and the next day was like a freaking Christmas parade…

I went from being the new kid at school to everyone looking at me as if for the first time. The choir director took me aside and really encouraged me to study voice. She said, “I hear something in there…I think that you have a gift.” And literally, from that moment on, I knew I wanted to be onstage singing. I literally felt like I’d found myself that night.

I’ve had incredible stage moments, like being onstage at Town Hall in NYC opening for Nanci Griffith to a sold-out crowd — and you could hear a pin drop. To playing Gruene Hall with Guy Clark a few years before he died. To the first festival stage I was on at Glastonbury a few years back. Even to some incredible house concerts and small clubs. But that first time, it’s still so present to me, that I think that’s my favorite memory because it was when I first felt that I knew something true about myself.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”

Fascinating question. I don’t hide. I bring me into all the he’s and she’s and they’s and you’s in my song. If I don’t understand the characters’ passion, their desire, I can’t write it. So there’s got to be some autobiography in there, even if it’s masked by someone else’s story, even if it just creeps through two words in a bridge.

If I only wrote about my life and what was going on with me, literally, well, I’d have a short catalogue of songs because my life isn’t that interesting to sustain a career of writing about it. I don’t have time to hike the Himalayas or to be the captain of a ship. I’ve got a 16-month-old and an album coming out and I’ve got to get posters out and keep up with FaceTwittInstaHell. I’m tired. All the time.

Plus I have songs that need to get out and I have literally only the 30 minutes when my son may be napping to get a chorus idea down. So I have to find stories in newspapers or thieve parts of conversations I overhear or steal what you say that rhymes that you don’t even hear the rhyme. I’m always listening for ‘language of lyric’ to show up in my life and then, if I’m lucky and I can catch it, I keep it in a notebook for those naptime writing sessions.

So I may not let on that the “you” is actually “me” but it’s always a little bit of me.

Photo credit: Neilson Hubbard