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Songwriting 101: Steve Forbert

   
Steve Forbert is grateful for having written "Romeo's Tune," which reached #11 on the Billboard Top 100 in 1979. Thirty-three years later, the singer-songwriter maintains a positive attitude, still thankful for the opportunities his highest charting song has given him.

Although he hasn't aged very much physically - still baby-faced - Forbert's songwriting has certainly matured. His fourteenth studio album, Over With You, a cycle of ten new songs about "often-mixed emotions involved in personal relationships," could have only been written by a seasoned songwriter, one with years of experience under his belt. "This is an album that has taken a lifetime to make," explains Forbert. "You don't just pull these songs out of thin air - you have to live them."

Like Warren Zevon, Gram Parsons, Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, and Bruce Springsteen, Steve Forbert has left his unmistakable imprint on the landscape of American music.

What was the first piece of music you heard that made you want to write songs of your own?

Probably “Mr. Tambourine Man,” written by Bob Dylan and recorded by The Byrds. Folk rock is the genre I like best and that was the first folk rock hit.

What was the folk scene like in NYC in the late 70s? What is one of your most cherished memories of “that place and time”?

When I arrived in NYC in June 1976, there were still a lot of clubs with hoot nights (open mic nights), and kids coming from all over the country to play original songs. One of my best memories was meeting songwriter Tim Hardin and playing a song or two for him one afternoon at the Other End Café.

What was it like to be a folk singer playing CBGB’s in the late 70s? What is one of your favorite memories of CBGB?

CBGB stands for Country Bluegrass and Blues, so you can see that it was originally opened with something else in mind. The owner [Hilly Kristal] was open to all music and liked a lot of American roots music. The punk thing just happened to find a home there.

My favorite CBGB memory was when I opened for John Cale and his band. I really enjoyed the intensity of his shows. It was also fun opening for Talking Heads when they were just a trio.

After “Romeo’s Tune” became a hit, did your approach to songwriting change at all?

No, not at all. I still kept writing songs on any subject that appealed to me. I didn’t try to just strictly write upbeat love songs.

How has your songwriting evolved since Alive on Arrival?

It really hasn’t; I’m just trying to keep the quality of each song as high as I can - that remains the challenge.

What Steve Forbert song has had the biggest influence on you? Either musically or personally?

“Romeo’s Tune.” Having a hit single enabled me to tour the world, from the US to Europe to Japan. And it still makes for a pretty good calling card to this day. It would be a lot harder to still be working clubs and theaters if I hadn’t had a hit song.

There are three years between The Place And The Time and Over With You. Why did you take the break?

It takes that long to write an album now, which includes having extra material to pick from. We chose the songs we did because we wanted to create somewhat of a song cycle.

What can we expect from Over With You?

Over With You is sparser than my last few records and because of that, it comes off as a more natural and honest record. Also, the songs all deal with relationships – the good, the bad and the in-between.

Do you have a favorite song on the album?

Yes, the title song, Over With You, particularly the last verse:

“Forever’s such an easy word to say or write on paper/ All things end in time/ We have been together far too many nights and days for us to end unkind.”

I liked taking a critical look at the word “forever.” It’s a word you hear every day but what does it really mean? 

                        

("Songwriting 101: Steve Forbert" is also featured on American Songwriter.)

Songwriting 101: Bri Arden

Our regular feature Songwriting 101 is devoted solely to the craft of songwriting. So whether you're a seasoned pro or just starting out or simply interested in hearing songwriters talk about their creative process then we hope you'll enjoy the series.

Three weeks ago we posted a candid two-part interview with Glen Phillips of Toad the Wet Sprocket. Other songwriters have included: Mason Jennings, Mark Doyon of Waterslide and Brooklyn indie songwriter Alina Simone, among many others. Each songwriter has explored his/her influences and the manner in which he/she "makes music." Some even offer friendly advice to aspiring songwriters.

Today, we'll be chatting with New York indie singer-songwriter Bri Arden, who will discuss her musical influences, love of melody, writing more honestly, and juggling a music career while studying Women's and Gender Studies at Columbia University. 

Read on...and enjoy!

What was the first piece of music you heard that made you want to make music of your own?

Annie Lennox’s "Little Bird." My mother played her album Diva in the car for about a year. Although I didn’t understand all the lyrics, I memorized them phonetically. There was something about the melody and construction of that song that made it a staple in my childhood.

What was the first song you wrote that you were proud of?

"Taste of Tears." I wrote it the first night I moved back into the city. My apartment was completely empty except for my piano. The song came out in about 20 minutes.

How has your songwriting evolved on your most recent EP “Awake”?

I’ve become less afraid to write honestly. It’s one thing to seem honest, it’s another to do it and risk it all. Nevertheless, once you have done it, there is no going back.

You cite Janis Joplin, Carole King, Annie Lennox, Bonnie Raitt and Sheryl Crow as some of the songwriters you have learned from. What have they taught you about the craft?

The most important thing they’ve taught me is not to try to imitate THEM. Everyone writes differently and has a unique way of telling their story. They each do it brilliantly in every aspect of the song. I look at the song, together and in pieces, and try to see it from different perspectives; yet, the best that can be drawn from another writer's work are the life lessons you can derive as a listener.

What’s your favorite lyric on Awake?

"Scars do fade, you forget how they were made, you’re free to move along and life goes on…'cause scars do fade."

How important is melody?

Well, I’ve never walked off the stage and said to a bandmate, “Whoops! Forgot the melody on the second verse of 'Aha Moment'!” We connect with each other on one level through lyrics, and we can intellectualize them and understand, to some degree, why they touch us, but our shared experience with melody is formed through an entirely different process.

In some way, the music reaches us at our core, somewhere beyond intellect or the rational. That's its power. I don’t want to say one aspect of the song is more important than another, but a good melody makes a song resonate as lyrics alone may not.

What’s your favorite melody on Awake?

I love many of them but I get very giddy every time I hear the bass line melody in "Scars Do Fade." I remember Danny Miranda playing it for the first time and flipping out.

Aside from pursuing a music career, you’re also a student at Columbia University. When do you find the time to write songs?

The schedule definitely fills up quickly but, unless it’s a co-write, I don’t schedule time for myself to write music. I usually have a song stirring around in my head for a few days, with no clear direction, and then, at some very random moment, I’ll hear the song as a whole, and I will need to find a guitar or piano and “finish it,” or rather “start and finish it.”

What advice would you give to an aspiring songwriter?

Write as much as you possibly can. Always ask yourself what and who you are writing for, why you are writing and what YOUR definition of good music is. Listen to the advice of people you respect, learn from as many people as you can, but then make your own decisions. Believe in yourself, respect your talent and trust that no matter what happens, you will be successful.

Are you working on new material? What’s next musically?

YES! I am working on a new album! I have a PLEDGE Campaign about to launch! Please check it out!

       

(Bri's Pledge Music campaign will Launch July 18th; she is supporting Hogar Siembra. Catch Bri live this summer and/or during her fall tour.) 

Songwriting 101: Martin Rivas (the Writing of "Reliquary")

  
Our regular feature Songwriting 101 is devoted solely to the craft of songwriting. So whether you're a seasoned pro or just starting out or simply interested in hearing songwriters talk about their creative process then we hope you'll enjoy the series.

Two weeks ago we posted a candid two-part interview with Glen Phillips of Toad the Wet Sprocket. Other songwriters have included: Mason Jennings, Mark Doyon of Waterslide and New York indie songwriter Alina Simone, among many others. Each songwriter has explored his/her influences and the manner in which he/she "makes music." Some even offer friendly advice to aspiring songwriters.

Today, we'll be chatting with a good friend of ours, Martin Rivas, about his latest record, Reliquary, which will be released on July 10. We've featured Martin several times. In fact, we published his journal entries for the making of the new album.

In this special interview, Martin will discuss an array of subjects ranging from the writing and recording of Reliquary to New York radio DJ's, his second chance at life, stealing from the Clash, Police and Pretenders, channeling Sister Rosetta Tharpe, and wishing he had written Todd Rundgren's "Hello, It's Me." Read on...and enjoy!

On “Drum Set, AM Radio and Tears,” you sing about being confined to your room as a kid (I assume). What was the first piece of music you heard that made you want to make music of your own?

I was spending a lot of time in my room at home in the afterglow of the dissolution of my parents' relationship. I had a radio with one speaker and a cassette recorder built-in. One of the ways I occupied myself was by pressing record and twisting the dial at random times. I loved the sound between stations. I still do.

When I decided to see what that little "FM" toggle would do, it was like stepping through a dimensional doorway. I was constantly recording songs off of WNEW and WPIX. I fell in love with Rock & Roll, and I'm still in love. Songs like "Hello, It's Me," "Born to Run," "Bohemian Rhapsody," "Sir Duke," "Roxanne," "I Want You to Want Me," "Got to Get You Into My Life,"…I recorded all of those on cheap cassettes from Radio Shack, and the DJ's banter would be part of the intro or outro of every recording: Scott Muni, Frankie Crocker, Carol Miller. I can still clearly imagine Pat St. John talking at the end of "Hello, It's Me" every time it plays on my iPod. That might've been the song that first made me say, "I wish I wrote that." It happens plenty nowadays, but I think that was the very first time. I still wish I wrote it.

What was the first song you wrote that you were proud of? 

I think I was more proud of being able to figure out how to play parts of songs on records than I was of writing. Writing came around as a byproduct of figuring out how to play. I'd be playing parts of Clash and Police and Pretenders songs over and over and over and eventually it'd morph into something that I guess was pretty much mine.

I've always been drawn more to sounds than to lyrics, so I had a lot of "songs" that were more advanced sonically than they were lyrically. I think that's why I like bands like Can and Liquid Liquid as much as I do. The voice serves as an additional instrument.

Early R.E.M. always sounded that way to me. Stipe's voice was mixed so far down that you couldn't figure out what he was saying. I'm not sure that I had a song that I was really proud of until this song called "The Difference," when I was 18 or so.

I’ve never heard you more exasperated than you are on “C’mon While We’re Young.” What was the source of your irritation?

What's funny is that I perceive it as determination with a pinch of elation. That song was the first to come to me for this album. It speaks of getting back to living, being alive and reveling in it, after nearly being irretrievably lost. Getting a second chance, and wanting to see and do everything with full knowledge that there's only so much time to do it. I wanted to start the album with it to close the "convalescence" chapter of my life, and leap back into living again. 

     

Alex Wong’s production is flawless. Can you discuss the collaborative process? 

Alex and I had been talking about doing an album together since I released Sea of Clouds in 2009. I had a couple of medical complications get in the way between then and now, but I can't complain as I got an EP's worth of songs out of the medical stuff. Alex's contribution to this record is so gigantic. I was trying to keep my demos as minimal as possible, knowing that these songs were going to have the opportunity to be filtered through Alex's mojo.

Rather than going into pre-production and saying, "OK, here's what the bass will play, here's what the drums will play," we started with voice and either guitar or piano, and then let the songs dictate to us what they wanted in them. I can't overstate how critical Alex was to the feel of this record.

I just found out that the studio that we tracked Reliquary at, Angelhouse in Williamsburg, is going to be demolished this autumn. Lots of great albums made there. I'll miss not being able to go back.

Whose idea was it to include a theremin on “Meet Your Father”?

I intentionally didn't demo "Meet Your Father" past vocals and guitar. Alex had some great ideas for adding color to it without pushing it into the traditional full-band realm. Alex found Rob Schwimmer, who came in on a Sunday morning in desperate need of coffee. We all needed coffee actually! He nailed the part within two hours. Look up Simon & Garfunkel's "The Boxer" live on YouTube. You'll see Rob playing the horn solo for them on theremin. He kicks that solo's ass too.

I’ve never heard you raunchier than you are on “Drum Set, AM Radio and Tears.” Who or what were you channeling?

That song channels so many feelings and places for me, but on the recording we imagined it being played by a pissed-off Sister Rosetta Tharpe on a back porch somewhere in 1949. The main guitar on that song is a red Gretsch Wild West Sweethearts acoustic guitar that I brought along to the sessions without expecting to use it much. It ended up being the most heard instrument on the album other than my voice.

We mic'd it up close with an SM57, from afar with a Neumann M49 (I think it's an M49), and we duct-taped a contact mic to it and ran that into a Fender Champ. The three blended tones created one of the absolute most raunchy guitar sounds I've ever heard. The best part about that guitar is that it belongs to my wife. Her guitar is all over this album. I gotta ask her if I can borrow it for the tour in September.

There is quite a bit of reflection on this album. Can you talk about that?

I really am a little afraid of how much of myself is in this batch of songs, but I can't bring myself to do it any other way. As long as I've been writing songs, they've been my little therapy sessions, but the combination of my last EP and this album are one massive bout of healing for me. I'm ready for another batch to find their way to me…maybe these'll be a bit less intense or something. Give a fella a break. I'm just really glad that I can account for every moment that happens on this album. The last couple, actually. I'll get into a fistfight for this record.

What’s the significance of the album’s title, Reliquary?

I was on tour in the UK last summer, and after playing at Glastonbury with Chrissi Poland, I had a day or two off before resuming the tour. I had seen ads for an exhibit at the British Museum about religious relics. So I went. There were these artifacts and the beautiful containers constructed to contain them.

We are essentially reliquaries of each other. We all carry a bit of each other within us. When we’re gone, the memories that live on in those we leave behind serve as the perfect relics. That sentiment opened the spigot that brought forth nearly all of the songs on this album. 

Are you working on new material? What’s next musically?

The material on this album still feels so new to me that I'm still getting to know it. Melodies and ideas and stuff are always smashing into the side of my head, and I'm jotting down or recording those little bits into my notebook or voice memo thingy, but I'm not in full-on songwriting mode at the moment.

I've still got to get the rest of the Kickstarter duets album out to fans, and then post it at Bandcamp. The album comes out officially on July 10, then I'm staying close to home for the summer with a couple of local shows sprinkled in.

I head out in September for a couple of weeks in the southeast and midwest doing a double-bill tour with Bri Arden (who will be featured next week (7/5) in Songwriting 101). There may be a west coast run in October, and maybe even another UK run over the winter. I'm just really enjoying how I feel at the moment.

               

(Reliquary is on sale on July 10, pre-order is currently taking place at amazon.com. "C'mon While We're Young" is part of Oxfam Summer Jams 2012.) 

Songwriting 101: Mark Doyon of Waterslide

Our regular feature Songwriting 101 is devoted to the craft itself, so whether you're a seasoned pro or just starting out or simply interested in hearing songwriters talk about their songs then you most likely will enjoy the series.

Last week we featured an insightful two-part interview with Glen Phillips of Toad the Wet Sprocket. Other songwriters have included: Mason Jennings and New York indie songwriters Alina Simone and Martin Rivas, among others. (Martin will discuss the writing of his latest record Reliquary next week.) Each songwriter has explored his/her influences and the manner in which he/she "makes music." Some even offer friendly advice to aspiring songwriters.

Today, we'll chat with a talented songwriter, Mark Doyon of Waterslide, whose latest record, Lincoln Signal, was released on June 19. When Mark's not creating stellar records with Waterslide, he's busy as the creative director of Wampus Multimedia, a music label, ebook publisher, and identity and branding group.

What was the first piece of music that inspired you to write music of your own?

It was “The Mighty Quinn” – not Dylan’s “Quinn the Eskimo,” but Manfred Mann’s version. My parents had a hit compilation in their LP stacks I used to cue up when I was 6 or 7. The arm on their Webcor turntable had an electrical short in it, and it would give me a little shock every time I picked it up. But I loved the song – the story, the chorus – and would just ignore these little jolts I got when I played it. “Everybody’s in despair / every girl and boy / but when Quinn the Eskimo gets here / everybody’s gonna jump for joy.” I already knew music meant more to me than a lot of other things.

What particular song has had an impact on your songwriting?

The songs that really shook me were “I Am the Walrus” and “Come Together.” I heard them on a friend’s blue Beatles (1967-1970) album and thought, “God, what the hell is that? What’s an ‘eggman’? Who is ‘old flat top’? Oh my God.”

Sometime in the early ‘70s I heard The Byrds’ “Chestnut Mare” and it just spun my head around. On FM they played the album track with the lengthy bridge rather than the edited version for Top 40. It was only years later that I could hear the Roger McGuinn inflections in my songs. And it was only after pining forever for a 12-string guitar that I even realized it was because it reminded me of “Chestnut Mare.”

What was the first song you wrote that you were proud of?

Well, songs to me are like friends who come to stay. I have affection for the closest ones. There’s a song on my first album called “Riverboat Dream.” It’s about making your way in the world as a young person, not knowing where you’re going or why, and watching your life unfold like a long, slow riverboat trip through a thick jungle. It had this laughing-while-crying tension I delved into later in my songs.

Dick Drake appears to be a character you have been ruminating on for some time. What was the impetus for the character?

I was thinking about how people are often misunderstood, and how it can isolate them from others. I spun the old Animals' song – “I’m just a soul whose intentions are good / oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.” I thought about weird outsiders like Ted Kaczynski and Timothy McVeigh and Jared Loughner, and wondered if they believed they were doing good in some twisted way. I thought it would be interesting to map the emotional interior of a person like that – their vulnerabilities, their frailties, the familiar things about them others would identify with. If they meant well, did it matter at all? If they were just wounded humans – rather than cartoonish “monsters” – how would we classify them then?

The album's concept is quite literary. What literary character would you say Dick Drake is most like?

Well, he’s alienated and wounded, but he’s also empathetic, almost to a fault. He cares deeply for others. There are a lot of characters like him in literature – Holden Caulfield, Stephen Dedalus, Frederick Exley, Batman. I think of this kind of character as the “empathetic misanthrope.” You’ve seen him in rock – Warren Zevon, Lou Reed, Tonio K. He cares more about you than the guy with the platitudes does. He cares enough to take a good swing at you.

You played every instrument on the album. Is there one in particular that posed a challenge for you?

All of them, really. I’ve learned to play instruments mostly to write songs. When I play all the parts, it sounds sort of like a band of quadruplets jamming. Very focused. I’d like to be a great guitar player, but I’m really just someone who writes songs and happens to perform them, too.

What instrument did you use to compose the songs for Lincoln Signal?

I usually write on acoustic guitar. I branched out a little on this album, writing some songs, like “In Your Sunday Colors,” on piano. I wrote “Hadrian’s Wall” on a mandolin. I came up with “Off Grid on Target” on a Parker Fly cranked through a Booker V12. Sometimes good things happen (not usually) when you’re drinking a Fat Tire or two with the “record” light on.

What advice would you give to an aspiring songwriter?

Be yourself. Work hard. Forget about money. Ape the classics if you want, steal from the best if you want, but don’t abandon who you are or give less than you can. You are better at being you than anyone else will ever be. And not to discourage you, but nobody cares yet about your songs. They might not care for a long time. It’s your responsibility to inspire people to care, to awaken them.

           

Songwriting 101: Glen Phillips of Toad the Wet Sprocket (Part II)

                    

I’ve been following your career since the early 90s. You’ve collaborated with so many musicians. Who has had a big impact on your songwriting?

I’d say less on my songwriting but more on my attitude about life and playing and music and understanding how much joy and effort people can bring to what they do - Nickel Creek. They have been the most profound influence on me personally. They are so omnivorous musically, so in love with music, and so freakin’ good at it. They are just amazing people.

It was about fifteen years ago when my dad passed away and a friend of mine gave me a copy of Randy Newman’s Sail Away for the song “Old Man.”

He kind of writes songs the way Kurt Vonnegut writes novels. He can be so sarcastic, so sardonic, so topical, and utterly human. He can be ripping humanity apart and at the same time he’s exposing a deep affection for it (laughter). Vonnegut condemns us for WWII and for the Holocaust…he’s looking at history with a deeply humanist point of view and yet he’s still hopeful somehow. Randy Newman kind of does the same thing. They’re deceptively simple songs about really big issues that take really uncomfortable positions and throw you up against yourself. He’s brilliant.

I wonder how many people miss his irony.

Lots (laughter). Most, probably.

Working with Nickel Creek, your friends, is a different kind of experience than working with somebody the record company suggests. What is it like working with Toad the Wet Sprocket?

We’re very different people. We met when we were very young. We went through a lot together. We care for each other, but we’re not people who call each other up and say, “Hey, you want to have dinner?” It never happened. We tried to do that. It never worked. We’d see these other bands bonding and we wanted that. We’d try to go camping and do stuff socially together. It just never worked. We have a great musical collaboration, and we don’t have to cook dinner for each other (laughter).

In contrast with W.P.A., the amount of joy that you can have on stage. I need to give myself room to have that in my life. It’s been a big struggle the last few years, figuring out how to afford those experiences. There is only so much money you can lose on labors of love. I have major fantasies of some job with medical benefits and regular hours, so I’m hungry for music and I can only do labors of love (laughter).

After “All I Want” became such a tremendous hit, did your approach to songwriting change at all?

We were in this era that hated their hits. College music was turning into the mainstream. Radio was really changing. “Losing my Religion” had just happened, and all the hipsters were like, “Don’t take our R.E.M. from us.” R.E.M. used to be an underground band. This was pre-internet. You had to go find these bands. You wanted it to be your secret. It really pissed a lot of people off that R.E.M. started getting played.

We came from that background. We signed on an uncool label. We made a very uncool video that looked way too much like “Losing My Religion” frankly. We were mostly in pain about losing our alternative status. We were getting ripped apart by the critics for having a hit, and we weren’t enjoying it much. We were so obsessed with no longer being cool (laughter). We didn’t feel like we were from the mainstream.

We had a top 40 hit, but hey, I was into Bauhaus and Cocteau Twins, Husker Du and The Replacements. I wasn’t this pop kid. So having a pop hit didn’t really change much. We weren’t trying to have pop hits. We were always more mainstream than we felt.

Part of what made Toad work is that I was really weirder than the world and the kind of music we made. My tastes were always stranger. The pop thing was always really bizarre to me. I always felt like a real outsider. It didn’t change things too much.

As far as advice to hopeful songwriters who are trying to write the next “Somebody That I Used to Know” the only way to write that song is to stop trying to write that song and write something that makes you excited.

Look at Norah Jones. Wonder why she was such a massive hit? Because every other woman was trying to be as edgy and sexy as possible in this really gnarly, I’m tough and I’m brutal, I’m super-sexual but I’m liberated way. But she just made the most beautiful album she could. People were starving for that because everybody else was working on this other thing.

It’s worked the other way. The reason The White Stripes broke so big was because everybody else was so perfect and auto-tuned and trying to be so pop and nice and happy and they were just friggin’ great and edgy. If you’re trying to follow, you’ve already lost. If you want to be a great artist, do something that just gets you off. Period.

And then maybe people will appreciate it...or not.

At least at the end of the day instead of having a bunch of songs written for the template of a hit that has already past you’ll have stuff that you’re going to be really proud of. No matter what. And that’s worth something. It’s worth a lot more than a bunch of should-have-been number one hits that nobody ever heard (laughter).

How’s the writing going for the new Toad album?

It’s been fun. I want to be writing songs that are a little more happy - not even happy - I want to do stuff that reminds me of how good things are, reminds me that there is more to reach for. A little more positive, not quite as bleak…I mean it’s me so it’s not exactly going to be happy (laughter).

Todd and Dean have been working together. They’re bringing in some great music and some really cool phrases to write the lyrics around. I think we’ll get a good record out of it. I really like the songs.

We’ve been giving ourselves a lot of space to take our time as we do this and not pressure ourselves too much because I know if we start to pressure I’ll get all weird.

It’s been good to produce it ourselves. Right now there’s no management, there’s no label, there’s nobody but us. We got two songs done and we’re really happy with them.

The Toad thing is slower and more overdub oriented. We’re handing things back and forth to each other. I need to get into a room with musicians, make a record and mixed the second it’s recorded. I like kind of high-pressure environments like that. That was the great thing about W.P.A. Eight people live. It was an awesome record.

Do you write all the lyrics?

Traditionally, in Toad I wrote all the lyrics. There were a couple of songs, well-known ones, where Todd, who wasn’t a lyric guy, kind of mumbles if he has a melody and occasionally there are words based in it. (Glen mumbles something and then sings, “When will we fall down.”) And the other one was “Something’s Always Wrong.” (Glen mumbles something then sings, “Something has gone wrong.”) And I liked that and changed it to “Something’s always wrong.”

The challenge with Todd’s stuff is that he would usually be singing something that had this internal rhyme scheme but it would be non-words or sometimes half-words and half- mumbles, and I would end up writing lyrics to a rhyme scheme that was defined by babble, which was really hard. His babble always sang perfectly against his melodies. I was really trying to work with the completely appropriate sound of what he would come in with. He would just sing what felt right for the melody and it was up to me to figure a way to get as close to that as I could while having it mean something (laughter).

Writing the lyrics to those songs is like a really weird, hard puzzle. They are so fucking hard to write. When I do my own I can change the melody. I feel more at liberty to make everything work together and keep changing as I go.

Are you working on the follow-up to Mr. Lemons?

Yeah. I had this period where I did Mr. Lemons and there was Unlucky 7, Secrets of the New Explorers, W.P.A. I had a ton of output, but I had no way of getting it to people, so nobody ever heard any of it (laughter).

W.P.A. was the one where I was like, “Okay I’m going to give the next year of my life and everything I got in the bank to it.” Musically and personally and as far as the joy in that band it was the best experience ever. But it was a strange one. It’s weird.

The weird thing about these days is I’m starting from scratch again. I’m really lucky to be able to start from scratch, and if I’m gone half the year I can make a living. But it’s really weird to start again. I got a booking agent and there’s a publicist I hire on occasion, but aside from that I’m everything else. I’m the Webmaster; I do the manufacturing; I’m the art director and I run all the social media and I have one fan, Laura, who does a little data entry for me. I’m starting from scratch again at 41 (laughter). It’s a heavy thing to do every time you do a record.

I hate to say this, but I have to go. I’ve been circling the block for a meeting. We’re taking advantage of the new interest rates and refinancing our house. Is there any closing question?

Yeah, how did the sofa concerts come about?

Evan Lowenstein sat me down one day - we were at a songwriting conference - and he kind of forced me to do one. He was like here, “We hook it up. We turn it on. People show up. We do a concert with fifteen minutes notice and you made twenty bucks sitting in front of a laptop making an ass of yourself.” Oh, I can do that. That’s great.

I love Stageit. It’s a great service, and he’s come up with a really smart system and implemented it pretty well. I think it’s pretty brilliant. It really helps me stay home. It enables me to book a few less shows and to be able to be with my family more, which is pretty phenomenal.

                           

(Toad the Wet Sprocket plays Brooklyn Bowl on July 31st.)

Songwriting 101: Glen Phillips of Toad the Wet Sprocket (Part I)

                  
Glen Phillips has a lot of "really weird" jobs.

He's a Webmaster, Art Director, Social Media strategist, and Manufacturer. But his weirdest job of all? Musician.

Best known for his work with the 90s alternative band Toad the Wet Sprocket, Phillips, who has "major fantasies of some job with medical benefits and regular hours" is still cracking away at the job he's most suited for, one that he's been working at for more than twenty-five years: songwriting.

Having sold millions of records, Glen continues to hone his craft. "It’s a real skill to actually get back to remembering why you’re doing what you’re doing and loving it and finding freedom in it," he says.

He's writing and recording new material for a Toad the Wet Sprocket album that should be released at the end of the year, as well as working on songs for an upcoming solo album.

Our conversation with Glen is in two parts. Below is part one. Check back tomorrow (6/15) for part two. 

What was the first piece of music you heard that made you want to make music of your own?

When I was really young, I was into the Bee Gees and Earth, Wind & Fire. Big disco bands really did it for me. Horns, strings…the whole deal.

The first stuff that really got under my skin in a different way was Rush and Ozzy Osbourne. I desperately wanted to be Randy Rhodes except I was a terrible guitar player.

There were two bands who really changed everything – The Waterboys and Replacements. I heard “Unsatisfied,” and I wept uncontrollably. I was wondering how you can do that to somebody with a song. Feeling like you’ve just been exposed. Somebody saw inside you and said the things you were thinking. All of a sudden there was this revealing element with music. I had no idea that you can do that. That was the kind of stuff that made me want to write.

Were your first songs like Rush songs, virtuosic, or were they songs that made you weep uncontrollably?

Well, I’ve never been virtuosic. I’m left-handed and play the guitar right-handed. I’ve always been kind of a hack. Since I ruined my left hand, I’ve kind of given up on virtuosic. The early stuff was geeky, a lot more in the Rush realm.

You’ve been writing songs for more than twenty-five years. What was the first song you wrote that you were proud of?

“PS” was probably the first song I wrote that Toad played. I think I was sixteen or seventeen when we did Bread and Circus. I started kind of early.

Does the song still hold up for you?

Oh, they all have major problems. Most of them. Especially the first two Toad albums, Bread and Circus and Pale. I get why people might like those records; they’re really imperfect, raw and real. But nobody really wants to see themselves imperfect, raw and real again at sixteen and seventeen. Lyrically, really embarrassing. I didn’t know who I was. I still don’t know who I am. I just can’t handle looking at them, but I understand why people might find them fascinating.

By Fear your songwriting had really matured.

Definitely. There is a real sweet spot in your early 20s. By my early 20s, I had been on the road, working hard at both my craft and my life. I had a lot of experience for somebody my age. I also had, not a narcissistic ego, but the ego of a twenty-something.

When I’d go home, I’d see my friends and go on long, quiet walks. I didn’t have this feeling like I was wasting my time. There was a lot of time to creatively wander and see where I wanted to land. I felt like that was my only job: Be close to the people I love and write music. So, the 20s were a grand old time.

I was playing in a band in my 20s as well. I never thought about a career just the next song I was going to write. You know?

I am in full recognition of the fact that it’s a dream job with great perks. I get that.

I think it’s an interesting thing for people who haven’t made a living as an artist to really wrap their heads around this: There’s something about having music be the thing you run to. You’ve got your job, your life - everything is always complicated no matter what your job is - and when you can run away to music when you’re thinking, “My god this is just a crap day; all I want to do is go home and pick up the guitar,” but when your crap day involves picking up a guitar, it’s hard to find that place to run to.

If you don’t expect anybody to ever hear a song maybe you live in hopes that some day this will be the song somebody will hear. And that’s kind of a positive energy. But if you’re thinking, “Wow, if nobody listens to this song then how do we buy food? How many days of the year am I going to have to spend on the road to afford to be home with my family?” If you’re thinking in those terms, it gets really hard to write a song. You got to trick yourself out of your head. It’s a different set of problems - obviously an enviable set of problems - but it certainly makes it a whole different practice.

I hadn’t thought about that. So where do you turn after a crap day? Long walks? Books? Movies?

Probably my best outlet is cooking. It’s a thing I can do around the house that’s creative, that’s appreciated. I have a busy mind, so if I’m not doing something I feel that I’m wasting time. Creativity usually comes out of open space. It doesn’t come out of “I have to sit down and write a song today because I have to not because I want to but because I’m supposed to” (laughter).

When you were playing with Toad in your early 20s, was it like "Us against them."

I never had the “Us Against the World” thing. We made the first two [Toad] records on our own. We planned on being done, and I was going to go up to San Francisco.

I had this drama teacher freshman year of high school, and he said, “Well, the reason I’m here is because I love the theater; I never want to leave it as long as I live, but I know I don’t have the ambition or the ego to go out and be an actor and compete in that way.” I was like, “Yes, I get you. I’m going to be a high school teacher.” That was my plan. So, the band was going to break up, and I was going to be a teacher. I knew I didn’t have what it took to compete.

Toad the Wet Sprocket has had such great success.

If you split absolutely everything four ways…you break even. We kept reaching that break-even hump. We did go platinum. We were supposedly the cheapest band on Columbia. We got our first royalty check when we sold a million and a half records.

On the one hand, I can go out and play shows. Enough people know who I am. But I can’t actually afford a manager or assistants or anything like that. It’s the way it is. It’s a really weird job.

There are a ton of musicians in your boat, making a modest living and yet having the opportunity to make music and reach an audience on a smaller scale.

It’s a really interesting era. There are these incredible opportunities. You can write some great songs, like I think “Rise Up” from the W.P.A. record is possibly the best song I’ve ever written. That’s the only relief I’ll get out of it. It’s never going to get covered. It’s never going to get placed. I’m never going to make a dime off of it. It’s just the best song I’ve ever written.

A lot of people have in their minds a very magical equation. Someday somebody is going to discover them, and once they’re discovered everything will be all right. And that happens. There’s Loreena McKennitt. Faith Hill came along and cut eight of her songs. She’s still working and trying to get new cuts, but having eight Faith Hill cuts doesn’t hurt. She’s a friggin’ brilliant songwriter. There are stories like that, but they’re so rare.

I go to a lot of songwriting conferences and there is so much emphasis on making it and when your dream is going to happen. I don’t mean in any way to be a killjoy or take away hope, but the one thing you’re going to have at the end of the day is the pleasure that writing a good song gives you, the one thing you don’t want anybody to be able to mess with. Having ambition and having hopes are great joys in life but be realistic and not think something magical is going to change everything for you. It’s a combination of incredible skill, incredible luck, and incredible amount of work that makes anything happen ever. Between those three there are still no guarantees.

My advice to songwriters is always - no matter what you do - protect the part you love because if you lose that it’s a lot of work to get back (laughter).

A lot of work! That’s if you can get it back. I’m not so sure you can.

Sometimes you get it back. It’s like when you meet the love of your life. It’s a Mack truck. But if you’ve been with each other for twenty years it’s a different kind of love and you live for the moments of clarity. The same thing with writing songs and music.

If you get back there and lose yourself completely in the craft and in the music then you’re still succeeding. It’s the part you don’t want anybody to be able to take away from you.

(Toad the Wet Sprocket plays Brooklyn Bowl on July 31st.)

Songwriting 101: Big Bus Dream

                                     

On their latest album, Big Dream Baby (Wampus Multimedia), singer Mike Shannon and guitarist Chick Tsikouras blend acoustic roots with raw rock and roll, while mixing in a class of social commentary that is reminiscent of Lou Reed, John Lennon, and Mark Oliver Everett (Eels). 

Big Dream Baby deals with disappointment, acceptance, perseverance, aging, loss, failure and unrealized dreams. "I always believed that without a dream we end up being defined by our setbacks," Shannon believes, "there is wisdom in failure. And failure is not quitting...giving up is failure."

Mike and Chick chatted with Riffraf about the making of Big Dream Baby, the collaborative process, failure and big dreams, baby.

What piece of music made you want to make music of your own?

Mike: Left Bank's "Walk Away Renee" blew me away. The combination of classical and pop expanded my songwriting possibilities. Also, "Across the Universe," with its hauntingly beautiful melody lines, caught my attention.

Chick: When I went to school to study music I was taught about harmony, voice leading, chords and theory. Once I knew how they all worked together, I set out to create a sound/song that moved me in the same way my musical heroes did.

What was the first song you wrote that you were proud of?

Mike: "Stories of the Rain," the second single for The Resistors back in the CBGB days. It was a post-punk rock tune.

Chick: A song called "Cry." It had a catchy chorus and a great chord progression that wasn't typical of your usual rock song. It ended up getting airplay that landed us gigs as well as TV appearances.

On Big Dream Baby, songs like "Wonderland" have humorous and satirical lyrics. Does this make writing about dark subjects like divorce or failure any easier?

Mike: Humor and satire are used to lighten the darkness. It makes it all so much more palatable for the listener.

Chick: Songs are written from a personal place. They can be therapeutic or a way of healing. It's kind of the light at the end of a tunnel. You try to stay positive and move towards happier times. You gotta have a "Big Dream, Baby"!

One of the major themes of Big Dream Baby is that failure doesn't matter as long as we never stop dreaming big. Did this grow organically out of your songwriting or is this a particular ethos you've always had?
Mike: I think I always believed that without a dream we end up being defined by our setbacks. I would rather shoot for the stars and fall short, knowing I tried...rather than live a life of "what ifs" due to a fear of failure and change. I believe there is wisdom in failure. And failure is not quitting...giving up is failure.

Chick: I think if you stop trying to grow then you've given up. If you're happy being stagnant then that's where you'll stay in life. There's more out there to experience and we as musicians owe it to ourselves to push the boundaries of expression. A wise man once said, "We are the music makers...and we are the dreamers of dreams."

What did you hope to say with Big Dream Baby?
Mike: I really wanted to drive the Big Bus Dream philosophy of needing to and continuing to dream big. Also, that light and darkness can coexist. There can be beauty in dysfunction and power in redemption.

Why do you think you work so well together as songwriting partners?
Mike: We are storytellers. I usually bring the rhythmic patterns, the hooks (lyrical & musical), as well as the lyrical storyline to the table. Chick helps tell the story in various ways, often by adding parts or switching the chorus for the bridge or vice versa. He also brings his own chording ideas to the session, and at times we'll use this in place of the original pattern. His jazz schooling has come in handy in telling the story. This makes his mother happy, knowing his schooling wasn't a total waste of time.

Chick: The real reason Mike left out is that no one else can stand us (ha ha). When you've worked with someone for so long you kind of get into their head and know where they are coming from. You know what's best for the song and how to deliver it in the best possible way to get the message across.

What's the biggest challenge you encounter while working together on a song?
Mike: The biggest challenge is we suffer from MADD - music attention deficit disorder - though we're in therapy.

Chick: We have so many ideas during the writing process it's a matter of finding which one works for that song. We could easily go in multiple directions. Picking the right instruments or sounds to record is another hurdle. Does this song call for cello or would brass sound better?

How has your past experience with other musicians influenced your songwriting? 

Mike: What I've learned over the years is to edit, then re-edit a tune until it's clear and concise. Also, write from the heart 'cause the perspective must be yours, not somebody else's. If it's not your voice, you lose the passion.

What's up next for Big Bus Dream?

Mike: We have a video we are wrapping up as well as some radio in-studios and live podcasts/house concerts. We'll also get in a few shows this spring/summer. We should be working on some new music by this fall.

            

Songwriting 101: Alina Simone

                                              

Musician and writer Alina Simone was born in Kharkov, Ukraine, and came to the U.S. as the daughter of political refugees. Raised in the suburbs of Massachusetts, Simone moved to Austin, Texas after graduating from art school in Boston. It was there that she first started singing in public, in the doorway of an abandoned bar on Sixth Street. She has released three albums: Placelessness (2007), Everyone is Crying Out to Me, Beware (2008), and Make Your Own Danger (2011). 

I first met Alina at Southside Coffee, a charming little shop in my neighborhood in Brooklyn, where we chatted about literature, music and our children. We bump into each from time to time, chat a little bit and then go about our business. 

Since I'm usually wrestling with my nine month old twins and she's hard at work on a new novel, this interview was not conducted at Southside Coffee; instead, I e-mailed Alina the questions and she graciously answered them.

Here it goes.

What was the first piece of music that made you want to make music of your own?

 I’d have to say it was Judy Garland singing “Somewhere over the Rainbow” in the Wizard of Oz. But once I moved past the showtune phase, Sinead O’Connor. Hearing her on the radio when I was in high school was like a revelation. She was everything the slick, over-produced divas of the 80s wasn’t. Unlike Madonna, she could really sing. She was beautiful even though she shaved her head and wore combat boots. She didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought. It was like a punk rocker had party-crashed the Top 40. But it was her melodies and the fearless quality of her songs and her vocals that blew me away.

What particular song has had an impact on your songwriting?

That would have to be Elliott Smith’s "Between the Bars." Listening to those lyrics, I think I realized a song could be every bit as poignant and literary as one of Raymond Carver’s short stories. I never really connected to troubadours of early generations like Bob Dylan. I feel like Elliott is the Gen Xers Dylan.

What was the first song you wrote that you were proud of?

 That’s easy. I threw away every single recording of every song I ever wrote until “Cash America Pawn.” It was the first song I wrote with lyrics that I didn’t feel embarrassed to have sail out of my mouth. The first to verses go like this:

 

"Used to see you kicking around town / Out behind the Cash America Pawn / With a can of coke and a pack of Pall Malls / Sitting out by the pay phones, watching it get dark

Knew about you from a friend I used to waitress with / You'd go to the park and drink and mess around / Make a fire, down by Doughnut Pond / She'd tell me all about it as she filled the salt"

Why do you think "Cash America Pawn" holds up?

Eesh...well, it only held up to me and by comparison with the other songs I'd written to that point. I'm not saying it will live in the annals of history, but I didn't get sick of singing it a week later or a month later or a year later. Until then, I'd always found it hard to tell a story that had emotional depth and wasn't cheesy. I wasn't interested in finding a new way to say 'Baby, I love you' or 'I miss you,' or whatever. I was trying to say something more complicated and that's, well, hard. Which may explain why I didn't play my first show until I was 26.

How has your songwriting evolved since your first EP in 2005?

My arrangements have become much bigger and lusher. Originally my sound was very raw and spare. Over time, the limitations of that style began to chafe. Plus, I got lonely and wanted to work with a band.

On the song “Make Your Own Danger,” I was taken by the line “Addiction makes us feel real close.” What does this line mean to you? Have other people had strong reactions to this song?

Nope, just you! The line means exactly what you think it means. I’m pretty literal when I write lyrics, actually. I find a lot of beauty in realism. And I think that’s literally true: addictions DO make people feel close. It can be a very toxic bond, or (if the addiction is, say, to Mad Men) a healthy one. But it is a unique bond and one rarely mentioned in songs, which is what drew me to the subject.

You have a toddler at home. How do you think motherhood has affected your songwriting?

Well, that’s a difficult question to answer. I’ll try to be honest. Logistically, it’s made things much more difficult. Since I’m the primary caregiver, whenever I need to rehearse it pretty much means hiring a babysitter. And aside from the financial thing, having this ticking clock in mind is definitely a creative buzzkill. On the other hand, my baby LOVES music and musical instruments. I find myself playing drums with her (which I never did before) and getting inspired to approach songwriting in a whole new way.

Do you find certain environments are especially conducive to your songwriting?

I write songs in my head as I walk. The more depressing the territory, the better.

What songs/lyrics have you written while you were walking?

I wrote all the lyrics to the song "Louisiana" while walking from one end of Hoboken (where I then lived) to the other:

"Do you remember the time we drove out to Louisiana? / To my father's beach house? I got us so lost / I knew right then because you never got angry / when we reached the city, and there weren't any rooms left

So we slept outside under sulphur lights / in the drugstore parking lot / All the stars came out, it was getting cold / But inside, it was so hot. So hot... / The streets were empty."

What do you deem to be "depressing territory"? The mall? 

I find exurban sprawl pretty unbearable. Malls, yes, but also those strips of fast food joints, Jiffy Lubes and cheap motels.

What advice would you give to an aspiring songwriter?

The only advice I would give to ANY aspiring artist is to be one hundred percent uniquely yourself. Don’t let yourself get influenced by the trend-of-the-minute or what someone else says would be “easiest” to market. The only currency you have is your authenticity. A lot of bands sound like a lot of other bands. If you sound like yourself, you’ve won.

Are you working on new material? What’s next musically?

I was never a good guitar player and feel like I’ve pushed my guitar-based songwriting to the limit with this last album. So If I record again (fingers crossed!) it will be beat heavy. I’m not working on anything at the moment.

             

Songwriting 101: Mason Jennings

  

In William Butler Yeats' poem "The Second Coming," the poet laments: "Things fall apart; the center cannot hold." For singer/songwriter Mason Jennings, his center - family, home (Minnesota) and music - sustains him, holds him firmly, keeping him from falling apart.

Jennings has stated, “Love is the most important thing to me, my relationship with my wife and kids. And music has always been as important as breathing to me. I have come to realize that to have it all, I have to take the long view when it comes to integrating all these parts of my life.”

Minnesota is the conceit metaphor on Mr. Jennings' most recent album, Minnesota, representing the singer's search for a sense of belonging in an evolving community. Jennings has claimed, “More than any place I’ve ever been, things change so much here, even month-to-month. But even as things change, Minnesota is where my home is, where my center is.”

As a touring musician, the irony is that Jennings must maintain his center while on the road which is the epitome of transience. 

Mason Jennings will be performing at the City Winery (155 Varick Street) in NYC on 3/29 & 3/30.

Do you try to imagine a character and write from his point of view?

No, for the most part I just follow a feeling in my heart. I am usually last to see the character emerge.

In the studio you’ve been known to play every instrument on the record. Does this give you a level of control you need in your songwriting?

It allows me to really have a trial and error approach to every instrument's parts. A song like "Clutch" would have been hard to describe to a band. It has subtle dropped time and variant tempos. It allows me to work faster too. 

You've said “Blood of Man” was based largely on your childhood experiences. Do life experiences drive your songwriting?            

Absolutely. There is some personal connection to all of my songs. They may play out as myths but the feeling is one of experience. 

“Raindrops On The Kitchen Floor” is filled with the hope that love can transcend even the impossible. What’s the “secret” to writing a successful love song?

Haha. No idea. I just mess around until I hear something that feels good in my heart. It's kinda like making soup from scratch. 

Your instrument of choice has mostly been the guitar, but on Minnesota the piano is prominent. How has the instrument influenced your songwriting?

I love piano. It is different for me than guitar in many ways, but the most striking is the fact that you can play a melody with your right hand. Songs like "Bitter Heart" and "Clutch" would not have been written on guitar. And then certain chords are more prominent and easier to play on piano, like diminished chords, which I end up using on songs such as "Sorry Signs On Cash Machines" and "Bitter Heart." 

Why do you think couples find your music so appealing?

I don't know. I put a lot of value in my marriage and the idea of true love prevailing. I certainly am rooting for couples to stay together. 

How has your approach to songwriting evolved over the years?

It comes from the same impulse. I guess the brush strokes get more refined. And as I get older, the narrative is coming from an older perspective.

What song has had an impact on your songwriting?

Oh, many of them. Let's see...the song "Further To Fly" by Paul Simon changed something in me. And "The Obvious Child." "Graceland." Let's see, just about all the songs on Lucinda Williams' Car Wheels on A Gravel Road record. Tom Waits' "Johnsburg, Illinois." John Lennon's "Across The Universe." And on and on. 

What advice would you give a young songwriter?

Well, I don't like giving advice. Maybe just let them know that I love them. 

You’ve said that, “Part of the journey for me is becoming more comfortable with not having the answers.” In the course of your life, has songwriting provided you with any answers?

No, just absolute joy. That's more than enough. 

          

Songwriting 101: Thomas Hutchings

  
 

Here at Riffraf our recurring column Songwriting 101 focuses on the craft itself. Ray LaMontagne, Leonard Cohen, Julian Casablancas and New York indie songwriter Martin Rivas have all discussed their influences and the manner in which they "make music."

Recently, we caught up with saxophonist/producer Thomas Hutchings whose horn section The CNP Horns, has appeared on Linda Chorney's Grammy Nominated album, Emotional Jukebox. Hutchings' music has been heard on Keeping Up With The Kardashians, Bad Girls Club, and Real World: Las Vegas. He has worked with Gavin Degraw, Stacie Rose, Laurance Rassin, Ron Claiborne, Don Imus, SaRon Crenshaw, The Niagaras, Shane Patrick, and Markeisha Ensley. 

When did you consider yourself a professional musician?

I considered myself a professional artist when I started getting paid for it. I was 19 and still in college, studying music when I started playing at private events with bar bands for a living in Boise, Idaho. It was easier to be a full time musician at the time because housing and utilities were very affordable, and I was playing weekly gigs in a popular local band called the Rhythm Mob, making enough money to get by. It didn't take any dedication whatsoever. Playing music full time was a very organic process because people called me for recording sessions and gigs that actually paid enough to survive. 

 

Describe your writing process.

I typically start with a beat that I like and add bass lines and chord elements like keys and guitar until I feel I have some inspiration. Then I grab my sax or Akai EWI wind synth, and play some melodies until something works that I like. 

Do you ever work with another songwriter? 

I mostly write music on my own with very little collaboration. I do like to have my friends over to lay down ideas once in a while to see if they can create instrumental parts that are interesting or better than what I could sample or come up with on my own. 

I also work with a great songwriter named Stacie Rose regularly on a production and remix level, and we've had some success with our collaborations being placed on television, so I'm not opposed to collaborating, it just doesn't come up very often. I also collaborate with some artists that just need some saxophone solos or lines or some horn parts, so I started a horn section called The CNP Horns (CNP=CutNPaste) for that purpose.  

Can you describe that collaborative process?

For remix production, I typically get the bare bones elements of a song - just vocals or vocals with guitar or piano - and have to create a new version of the entire song. I do this by adding and editing in loops and beats that might or might not be replaced by live instruments toward the end of production. 

For horn arranging, I typically sit in the studio with the track rolling and record different horn part ideas until everything feels right. The CNP Horns, which was nominated for a Grammy for Best Americana Album on Linda Chorney's Emotional Jukebox album, will either play parts that are already written or actually sit on sessions, trying to come up with some fun horn parts.     

 
Do you have a motto or creed that as a songwriter you live by? 

Save every idea! I say that because I find that sometimes something that doesn't work in one song might actually work well in another song, and if you're like me you have a lot of unfinished songs. So sometimes I go back and take parts of songs and mash them together to see if they'll fit and most of the time they do. I save everything.  

What is the first song that had an impact on your songwriting?

I think the Sonny Rollins' tune "Doxy" on the Branford Marsalis album Trio Jeepy was what really made me think about writing music and recording it; before that, all I was thinking about was having fun playing some cool sax solos over nice grooves. I started thinking in terms of creative arrangements and melodies and started checking out more recordings of tenor saxophonists, their original songs and arrangements of standards.

How do you think Branford Marsalis' album, Trio Jeepy, influenced your writing?

The first music I listened to seriously as a teenager were saxophonists. The first young saxophonist that caught my ear was Branford Marsalis and his album Trio Jeepy. I heard it in a record store when I was in high school and was just blown away by the intensity of the music of the entire album. I bought a cassette and listened to it over and over. CASSETTES! HA HA HA!

What advice would you give a young songwriter?

Always write what you know from your heart and life experience. Also, I'd say you probably have an idea of what your music should sound like in your head and it's good to be true to that, but be flexible if you want to be in the music business because if you really want success, you can't always be in the driver's seat on all creative choices. People that are successful are that way because they know what works and what doesn't and are good at measuring risk. It's just the way it is and it's nothing personal. If you want to break the industry mold, don't expect immediate recognition.