I didn’t know this project needed banjo until Aidan added her musical touches to my songs. Wow. It is a special and rare moment to find a musician who is intelligent and talented as well as a great friend. This is Aidan. She brought so much life to Sunset Place.
So I listened to my session from Feb ‘19 and no me gusta. Songs were good, but my recording quality was not up to the standards I want for this project. So I called Sean and said, hey can you record me? In March ‘19 we started tracking at his home studio in Ridgetop, TN.
While I was writing the songs for Sunset Place, I was living in this trailer.
It wasn’t fun.
Everything I owned smelled like mildew. Not an ideal time if someone wanted to give me a fragrance deal :D
I had to walk to another building to take my showers and do my hair.
There was no heat.
I didn’t like it and just bad things happened at the end of 2018. I have to say - art can come from suffering. I would never want to suffer to make art, but four songs just kind of fell out of me one day - like I dropped a bag of groceries in the parking lot. I picked ‘em up and put them in my bag.
Hello February 2018! This picture shows my favorite mic (mojave condenser, gives me golden vocals) and my bud, Waffle’s bass. This is take one of tracking a bunch of songs I wrote.
We’re in my bedroom! Ha. Sound curtains and a million chords later, we were off and running. I engineered this session. Pro tip? Put some Styrofoam under your stands to avoid capturing sound vibrations from the floor and room. This tip comes from engineer extraordinaire, Sean Badum.
I’m still pretty new at writing music - so what do I record? Anything I’ve written he he he. This day I think we recorded a few.
It turns out the more I write, the more I realize that we’ve all got a pair of jeans cut from the same cloth.
I didn’t release an original song until my mid 20’s.
Before that I had done all kinds of musical things. I sang in church, on stage at festivals, in community choirs, symphony concerts, talent shows, recitals.
Nothing compares to the scary rush of performing your own song, alone, with your own words. It’s that feeling when you’re about to jump off a cliff into the lake. No one can do it for you. Nothing prepared you for this. And wether you want it to or not, your story comes to the surface.
Ahhh, what’s my story? I thought it was so special and unique.. heartbreak, behaving badly, trying to give myself permission to be who I am, be bold, try to care less about what other people think, embrace the normal. All my precious moments scribbled out on paper. And each little flicker of shame is blown out when someone listens.
“Thanks for listening” gets a whole new meaning.
would bring me joy
ever since a little boy
riding down the sidewalk fast
no wheels but it’s still a blast
after years of working hard
craigslist led the sound alarm
he took a bus at 1am
to meet his Ford truck Hank
green as an easter egg
barely a weathering
oh what a pair they would make
he rode hank to 50
and then 50 more
but first they stopped for cake
anti restaurant experience
and no food wastes
cooking through the regions