I recently got back from a swing through Michigan, Illinois and Wisconsin, where I remembered how much I love the Midwest - the fans - who seem extremely reliable, the landscape, which gives my mind room to roam, the delightfully clipped accents. I’m an accent junkie. I sometimes tune into certain podcasts just so I can mimic the hosts’ accents. The variety of ways a person can pronounce the English word “so”, for example: Australian accent: “soyee” German accent: “zoh!” Hours of solo entertainment.
The tour started with a trio of shows with my friend Jenny Reynolds, followed by a pair of shows with one of my songwriting heroes, Richard Shindell and ended with some solo gigs.
I didn’t think much of the shows with Richard at the time they got booked, only that I have always been a fan and that this was a bit of luck with routing and a gracious gesture on his part, to have me open when he’d planned to do the shows alone.
But hanging out and working with him, I began to remember that his early songs were among the first that actually made me want become a songwriter. Are You Happy Now was one I used to cover at open mics with my college suite-mate. Wisteria perfectly captures the feeling of longing to return to a sweet time, clinging to a memory when life has moved on and you can never go back. Abuelita, Reunion Hill, Fishing - God, just go listen to them.
It’s hard to express how much some songs can mean to me. I get tongue-tied even trying to explain such things to my friends. I want so badly for them to experience what I have while listening. Songs get woven in with our memories, our dreams achieved or lost, secret longings, private victories.
At the shows with Richard, I tried to just be there and absorb what I could from watching a master craftsman at work. The next show I played solo was a live set and podcast taping. The promoter said he’d forgotten what a good guitar player I am. I think I had actually just become a better guitar player by watching an artist I love for two nights in a row. I watched like a hawk.
During the day we worked on a song together, a cover of Daydream Believer which Richard said was his favorite song at age 8. What a melody. We also talked about life of the road and lamented having to promote ourselves, as if that has anything to do with writing great songs. At the merch table, Richard just put out a paper bag on which was written in Sharpie a suggested price for his albums. No fancy list, no salesmanship. So freeing.
When I got home, Mike said “You needed that, to be around someone who is totally committed to his craft - not trying to sell you his latest book or have some kind of an angle on the business.” He was right.
Truth be told, I would love to live in a world where I never had to promote myself or go on social media and could spend all my time absorbing and creating songs. I’m doing my best to walk the line (ie make a living), show up for my community, and keep my soul at least 90% intact.
Thank you for being here.
PS - if anyone caught some footage of Daydream Believer, I’d love to see it.
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Things that are bringing me joy/inspiration/a sense of power in these times:
Bewildered Podcast: We Need Your Art
How to Survive the End of the World Podcast: Be My Senpai
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Join us this Saturday in Burlington, NC for a festival full of powerful women. Let’s resist hate and reclaim love! It’s our god-give right, FFS! All Proceeds support the incredible work of Benevolence Farm.