I’m heading into the studio tonight at midnight to record a song called “When the Sun Shines,” a song written probably a year ago. I’ve got the date written down somewhere but I haven’t looked at it in months. I do know, however, that it was written in a bedroom in Minnesota, so it would have had to have been at least a year. Still a good song, though.
I’m doing a friend, who is in school for recording technology, a bit of a favor, so I let him pick the song. I probably wouldn’t have chose this one, honestly. However, I do love it and I’m really looking forward to it. It is a favor, but it works out for me in the end, as well. No complaints here.
The crummy part is that it’s a midnight-4am session, and I get to be at the retail/survival job at 8am tomorrow. Good times. Good times.
Best part is that, like I said, I’ll be singing “When the Sun Shines.” The sun won’t be shining. Ha. I crack myself up.
I just read a post from the CMT Blog about a few of the things Wynonna has had to say about current country music and its artists.
I’ve never been a particularly big Wynonna fan for a few very specific reasons and a few more fickle reasons. It’s the specific ones, though, that make a few of her remarks really sit uncomfortably with me.
I’ve been known to say and write things about artists or production or other aspects of the artistry of the music industry in general. Good, bad, and in between. But more and more, I find that when others say these things, it sounds petty and oftentimes foolish. We (all of us) have a opinions, and when it comes to music, we think we’re RIGHT. The fact is, though, that there are usually a million factors that go into an artist’s product and an artist’s image that even people in the industry who know how things generally happen are going to have no clue about. Who are we to judge? I’ve got friends who hate on Kenny Chesney, and generally I don’t fight with it, because I’ve never been a big KC supporter. But when they start hating on Taylor Swift I have to stop them and say, “Hey, maybe that’s not how it is.” It’s always impossible to change a person’s mind once s/he’s got it made up, though. Opinions on music are fact to those who hold them. I know. I’m guilty too.
And sometimes our gripes with artists or the way their music has been recorded or WHATEVER are legitimate… but that doesn’t mean they haven’t earned what they have. Maybe they haven’t. But we don’t know that.
Anyway, reading the things Wynonna said made me realize I need to learn to keep my mouth shut. Talk up the stuff I love (Hi Taylor!) and remain silent on the rest. I’d hate to look a fool because I’ve got an opinion on something I know nothing about… or worse, am bitter about. That’s just not flattering.
Does this post itself make me a hypocrite, calling Wynonna out like this? I hope not. Notice I didn’t say one thing about my opinion on her music (I’ve got opinions). I just think her words were reprehensible. Really.
Okay. Am done.
Do you have any thoughts?
I’m working on a super awesome documentary project, and by that I mean I’m writing the music for it. And by that, I mean I’ve already written the music, but now I’m working on recording it and all the fun that comes with that. And by “I,” I mean my dear friend Preston and I. Mostly Preston. He’s awesome.
So, Preston has been working his little tail off on this project for me, and today he sent me an mp3 of what was supposed to be the final mix of a song called “Epiphany,” until he changed his mind and decided to change three or 85 more things. I think at some point I’m just gonna have to stop him and be like, PRESTON. It’s PERFECT, I PROMISE.
Music is never finished. That’s just the truth. There’s always something to change or add or another direction to take it. At some point you’ve got to decide you’re satisfied, or you’ll never have anything for anyone to listen to.
But for now I’m letting him tweak a little more.
Until then, I burned the mp3 to a CD and took it out to my car to listen on the way to work… because I don’t have any decent speakers in the house.
Is it narcissistic to yourself sing the same song about 10 times in one day?
Don’t answer that.
Any songwriters out there?
Do you ever write a song, exert a respectable amount of effort getting it done, and then look at the finished product and think, “Eh, I guess it’s okay?”
I do it all the time. Nothing’s ever good enough, really. Well… not nothing. But definitely not everything.
But every once in awhile I flip through my notebooks and I play one of those songs I thought was “just okay” and find I was just too close to it at the time to make a really sound judgment about it. Sometimes I come back to one of those songs and think OH MY GOODNESS WHY HAVEN’T I BEEN PLAYING THIS FOR PEOPLE?!
Just happened, actually.
One line in one verse does need a tiny little rewrite, which I think is what was frustrating me in the first place, but other than that, it’s really quite wonderful.
I love rediscovering stuff like that. Or maybe it’s really discovering it for the first time.
How about all of you other creative, lovely people? Is it the same with paintings? With short stories or novels? Films? Is it easier to appreciate a piece of your own work after some time has gone by and you’ve separated yourself from it?
What are your thoughts?
I’m back and forth on whether or not I should post set lists. They’d probably only be of interest to me, as most of my original material isn’t really well known and the covers aren’t anything to brag about either.
Well, maybe I will tell you which covers I played last night, huh?
Born to Fly by Sara Evans, which always reminds me of my friend, Molly, from high school. I frickin’ love that girl.
I’m Yours by Jason Mraz, on ukulele, of course.
The Greatest Man I Never Knew, by Reba, because HI. It’s me, I gotta play Reba.
No One Needs to Know by Shania Twain, on uke. Because that song IS MY LIFE.
Fireflies by Faith Hill/Lori McKenna, on uke, because Awwwwwwh.
Eleanor Rigby on uke because who doesn’t love a good Beatles song on ukulele?
I Wanna Hold Your Hand because again, who doesn’t love a good Beatles song song ukulele?
And… I meant to play Overboard by Ingrid Michaelson on keys, but I forgot. Next time.
All in all, I had a really fantastic show last night. I tried to push it to an hour and a half, and if I’d have taken the ten minute break I should have taken, I’d have made it. I had a better turn out than I expected, and the people I work with really showed me how supportive and awesome they are. I’ve complained about that job in the past but I absolutely cannot complain about the people I work with. They’re incredible. I got lots of great feedback, met some new people, and… um…
I even gave my phone number to a boy.
But that’s fodder for the other blog.
I spent this evening at a friend’s place laying down scratch tracks for a project we’re doing in a few weeks, and I got a rough cut of one of the songs I’m doing for an awesome documentary project taken care of, which I’m told should be mixed down and ready to go TOMORROW. If that’s not great service, man, I don’t know what is.
Life is good right now. The rock’s really starting to roll around here.
Oh. And I’ll be back at the Bluebird on Monday. Who’s coming to hang with me?
Travis Tritt once wrote a song called “Strong Enough to Be Your Man,” as a response to Sheryl Crow’s–
Wait. Just guess. You know this, right?
“Strong Enough.”
Which, of course, poses the question, “Are you strong enough to be my man?”
I know. It was a tough one.
Well, I just pulled the same stunt, friends.
I was listening to the radio when King George began crooning through those tiny little speakers, “All my exes live in Texas…”
And at first I did what I always do when I hear this song, I started two-stepping around the room with my imaginary two-stepping partner. That song is so good for two-stepping and acting silly.
But then I thought, wait, what about all of those poor women in Texas? What did he do to them that was SO TERRIBLE that they RAN HIM OUT?
Another side of this story needed to be told, I figured.
And so I wrote the other side of the story.
Now, I have a confession to make. I’ve never set foot on Texas soil. I may not have been terribly qualified to write this particular song based on that point. However, I have been listening to lots of Texas girl Miranda Lambert lately, so I figured I could channel the right attitude and come up with a pretty decent little song.
Y’all, I just love it.
It’s a song that is SO unlike me. I can’t say it’s terribly original, but it’s not like anything else I’ve ever written, so in that, it’s totally unique. I’m excited to hear somebody play a little steel guitar with it, is what I’m saying.
Do you know anyone who plays steel guitar?
Easy enough.
And again, I’ve gotta thank Erin for the awesome photography. I use this stuff EVERYWHERE. Thanks, Erin!
Last night my friend Jim and I headed down to the infamous Bluebird Cafe for its weekly open mic night. The Bluebird is a place I’ve known about since long before I moved to the Nashville area… and I’ve always known when I got here I would play the open mics there. I’m not really sure why it took me so long to muster up the courage to go in… the process was simple and while there were lots of good musicians, there were lots of just okay musicians so I definitely had nothing to be worried about.
We met an awesome guy named Zac who is in town this week (for his first time!) from Canada and he’s kind of my new best friend. Really. I love Canadians. Ha.
We weren’t sure that we’d get to play, and we sat through two and a half hours of the three hour event before our names were finally called.
But oh man, it was worth it.
I sang with Jim this summer in a showcase he had, so he got up and sang one and I did the harmony for him.
And then I got up with my ukulele, which I almost decided not to play– I almost sat down at the piano to play one of my more tested, tried and true songs… but no one else had played ukulele, and Zac and Jim were insistent that it would be the right choice.
It was.
I got a great response from the audience and the guy running the event, met like three other people from Montana (what?) and went home with some great advice on how to trick the uke up for a very small amount of money. All in all, a great night.
Yeah. I’ll be back.
Thanks Bluebird.
I’m not a terribly organized person– I tend to spend hours putting things into folders and boxes and then fail miserably at keeping up with the system, and end up starting over two months later, reorganizing, attempting to find a better way.
Today has been one of those “start over” kind of days.
Much like we organize our computers, I’ve decided to start folders for my life. You remember those things, right? The heavy cardstock paper that folds in half like a book with little pockets inside? I’ve got six of them going and in use now, and hopefully I can continue to use them effectively.
What I think is really interesting, though, is one particular folder.
Scrawled across the front in black sharpie are the words “Undelivered Love Letters.”
Oh. Yes.
If you know anything about me, which you might not, you know that I’m A Letter Writer. Especially when it comes to unrequited crushes, I can just write letters and letters and more letters for weeks and months at a time. In some cases, I have ten drafts of the same letter. It’s crazy. And I can’t write those on the computer; they’ve gotta come from my hand through a pen and appear on a piece of notebook paper. I can’t have it any other way.
But why would I save them?
Well, because I tend to write the best, sappy, awful beautiful songs when I’ve been writing letters.
There’s a song I wrote a few months back–which most of you haven’t heard but OH I’m so excited for you to hear it–called “What If You Don’t,” and it came straight out of an intense letter writing session. I had written and rewritten this letter–like I said, ten drafts probably–when all of a sudden I wasn’t even thinking anymore so much as letting words escape, and I had this major revelation.
And then, rather than finish that letter, I immediately turned to my piano and wrote maybe the best song I’ve ever written. Ever.
It’s a funny thing, revisiting things you’ve felt, things you thought you knew, because hindsight is really a sharp, deadening thing when it comes to previous emotion. But when you’re where I am right now, in this neutral, happy place, with no deep end to dive into, it helps to remember.
I have never been one to dwell in the past, but I do hold on to it externally so that I can internalize it when it suits my needs.
And the funny thing is, even that tenth draft of that letter never got delivered.
But he heard the song.
Do you have places you can always turn to for inspiration? Do you save your undelivered love letters?
And are your undelivered love letters truly undelivered?
