Tag Archives: Brandon Schott
Episode VII: Manda Mosher
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A NOTE FROM YOUR HOST, BRANDON SCHOTT: Well, folks – this one is certainly a keeper. My dear friend Manda Mosher and I went to school together in Boston a number of years ago, and our paths have continued to intersect since. A native Los Angelino with three commercial releases under her belt (and two more currently in production), Manda is hands down one of my favorite people in the world. The deeply rooted music and perspectives she puts out in the world in her art and actions have truly inspired me greatly over the years. Am so proud to share our chat with you, as well as a brand new recording we made together of the title track of her first LP, “EVERYTHING YOU NEED.” Turn up the sound, sit back with a nice glass of red wine (or ice cream) and enjoy – ladies and gentlemen – as Defying Gravity Music brings you, Manda Mosher… Photos of Manda by John Halpern / “EVERYTHING YOU NEED” mastered by Hans DeKline. |
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Music. Songwriting. Inspiration. Discovery. Faith. Family. Transcendence. Our life is art, and this is Defying Gravity… When long time friend and colleague, Brandon Schott, suggested we do an episode of Defying Gravity ~ the idea of him producing my song “Everything You Need” seamlessly came to mind. Brandon approaches production with a unique whimsy and depth perfectly suited to a lullaby of this style. I came over to his studio; we set up for a live guitar vocal and captured this performance on the 1st take. From there, Brandon surrounded my performance with his background vocals, strings, and keys stylings ranging from toy piano to glockenspiel. “Everything You Need” was always a song dear to my heart in its simplicity and truth. It became the title track to my first album release in April of 2009 (Red Parlor Records.) It was a delight to revisit the tune again… The song’s meaning is simple. It answers the call of wanting comfort and love. I believe that we all want for someone who can embrace us, and in that moment in time, help us feel at peace and unafraid. During the darker hours, it’s a ray of hope shining between the cracks of harsh reality. We all grow old, we all die…but we can experience love while we are here. |
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- Manda Mosher Manda Mosher is a Los Angeles based singer-songwriter, founder of MMTV and co-founder of ReValue Music – her music can be purchased online at the usual digital resources. |
Episode IV: Many Miles From Aberdeen
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This month’s episode is pridefully very different. Some of you may know that I was raised in a military family, both my parents were active air force for over two decades. Today, July 31st, is my father’s 60th birthday and this episode is a tribute to military families, and especially of course my folks – who have been amazingly supportive of my creative endeavors through the years. Because of the nature of this month’s theme, we wanted to open up the floor – and I’m pleased to also include the stories of writer/actress Leigh Hall and radio host and comedian Sheena Metal in our video and podcast, both of whom are fellow military brats themselves that have gone on to lead rich and creative lives. Together, we reflect on how our nomadic childhoods have since colored our work. I’m also proud to present a brand new, unreleased song I wrote last fall called “KEEP THE SUN OUT OF YOUR EYES”, which directly inspired this month’s theme and has a deeply personal and unexpected story of its own further below. Thank you to all. |
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Music. Songwriting. Inspiration. Discovery. Faith. Family. Transcendence. Our life is art, and this is Defying Gravity… “MANY MILES FROM ABERDEEN” It’s Father’s Day 2012, and I’m writing this at a Peet’s Coffee in Glendale, CA – many miles and a continent from where my dad is being pampered for the holiday. He’s likely enjoying fresh grilled ribs and perhaps one of those peach schnapps cocktails he’s so fond of. Given my family’s nomadic history, I suppose its no coincidence that for the past 11 years I’ve hunkered down far from my extended family, chasing a life’s mission on a distant shore. |
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I was raised a military brat, both my parents active Air Force, for the better part of my youth. I was born in the DC area, lived in Utah for a spell (where my sister was born) and even lived in the UK for eight years, my parents stationed at RAF Croughton in the Northampton countryside. That’s where I attended middle school & high school, on the base. There’s a roaming instinct in my blood, and it’s manifested itself over the years in many ways – creatively unsettled, spiritually restless – “home” is a moving target, always ready for reinvention. Friends came and went – each of them with their own complex and rich stories. I learned not to become too attached to things and places. I’ve touched on this part of my life very little in my songs, which is still surprising to me given how deeply it informs who I am. There’s a song on my DANDELION LP, “FOUR WINDS BLOW,” which is probably my most obvious reference to these years. It took a long time before I’d considered my parent’s perspective in all this – how tough it must have been to maintain a consistency within our immediate family, given how far away they were from their own. For a long time I resented the lifestyle, hated the constant loss of friends, swore my kids would stay more ‘grounded’, but underneath I think I understood and respected the sacrifice and strength it took. The older I get, and through all the changes we’ve endured together over the years – illness, birth, death, marriages – I realize those years lived in military service brought us closer together than I could have ever known. We became our own constants. And as my life as a performer gathers its own mileage, with three kids and a family of my own, I deeply admire my parent’s ability to keep our family so strong through it all. ######################## One day late last year I went to lunch with my dear friend Steve Barton. We ate outside and caught up over some fantastic Indian food, Steve opposite an ever climbing, and blinding, ray of sunlight. Subsequently he kept his sunglasses on the whole time, leading us to the phrase “KEEP THE SUN OUT OF YOUR EYES” which became a punch line for the rest of our meal. We laughed as we thought it sounded like an old British battle hymn from the 1st or 2nd world war, sung over pints of ale – perhaps with a slight Liverpudlian accent. In Defying Gravity episode 2 with Steve, we talked a lot about how some songs are written and some songs write you. “KEEP THE SUN OUT OF YOUR EYES” fell into the latter category, and over the course of that very afternoon the song became obsessed with me – writing the first, second and third verses through me in a furious flash. However, I was soon to realize the universe was giving me a gift, a premonition of an unexpected twist in my family’s story. |
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I write a lot in the car, in silence – just thoughts and phrases rattling around with the shocks on the road. Upon scribbling and revising the final lyrics to the song, I pulled up outside my home in Glendale. The phone rang. It was my mother – my Dad had suffered a heart attack, and was in an ambulance on his way to the hospital. Here I was, miles from the action – far from the fight, unable to be with him – hold his hand, comfort him. I ran inside and held my own family close, continued our routine as it was needed – getting updates from time to time from my mom & sister. |
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The version in the imperfect demo above is a recording I made that night, after the kids were tucked in – just me alone, live in my studio, the house settling into sleep, resting on the edge of an event that could have changed everything. And here was this song that seemed to preclude and understand it all, tethering me to the universe’s larger plan. Once again, music proved to be a powerful ally. Thankfully, as previewed earlier in this story, my father is fine – two stints in his heart and a lifestyle change later, we’re all still celebrating all the usual milestones together. On separate coasts, connected in the knowledge that – “till its time to move on” and beyond – our connection to each other will cross all divides. We never know when our time together will come to a close – until then, I promise to do what I can to “keep the sun out of my eyes” and my heart fixed on all that will always be important in this life. I love you, Dad. -Brandon Schott |
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Episode III: Marvin Etzioni
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Music. Songwriting. Inspiration. Discovery. Faith. Family. Transcendence. Our life is art, and this is Defying Gravity… “trouble holding back” growing up on 45s of the beatles, dave clark 5, the animals…well you get the idea, not alot of blues. although the electricity of the blues masters runs through all of these records. at the time, i just didn’t know it. i was exposed to country music at a young age by my grandfather. liz anderson, lynn anderson, johnny cash etc. he was the first person to create mix tapes on his tandberg reel to reel tape recorder. no two songs were alike. what they had i common was, he liked them. one day, i played him a song from the first grand funk railroad album. didn’t go over well. then i played him “back in the ussr” from the white album. it made it to his mix tape! never a ballad or a sad song. always upbeat. “i like it loud, and i like it fast” he once told me after a sold out show by lone justice at the palace in los angeles. a few years before that, while i was discovering glamrock’s t rex, i found jimmy reed. he had it all. country, blues, rock and roll, all rolled up into one. it was his powerful songwriting. i was hit between the eyes. i found out years later, he was the most popular blues artist of the fifties. his groove was so deep, no one wanted to follow him on stage. i’ve discovered many other blues artists over the years from robert johnson to howling wolf, but the first cut is the deepest. Jimmy reed cut me deep on first listen, and still does to this day. in the fifties and sixties, america was painted black and white. that was the real world where people of color had to use separate bathrooms, sit in the back of a bus or stay in their own hotels. in the world of music, there were no colors to be seen. anyone could listen to the rolling stones back to back with the supremes on commercial radio. black and white kids were dancing in the streets on dick clark’s american bandstand. martha and the vandellas had as much to do with the civil rights movement as martin luther king jr. the influence of the blues was seeping through the AM radio, i just didn’t know it. i had to dig for it, and find it. once i did, the could see that the original pipeline to the golden age of rock and roll was connected to the blues. ask elvis. ask brian jones. ask lennon. you can ask them by listening to their records. spin the 45s of “hound dog”, “satisfaction”, and “revolution”. they were slaves to the masters of the blues. “chains…and they ain’t the kind that you can see.” every artist sings the blues. even if they cover the production in sugar. the blues is in the foundation, the ground floor, in the dirt before the building of the record is even built. my co writer, sam lorber, and i wanted to write another song together. somehow we tapped into the blues. the way a blues song doubles the opening line to reinforce the power of it. the simplicity of the chords (1-4-5 for those who play). before recording the song, i added a non blues section at the end, encouraging the track to go into a pshyodelic section. i added electric mandolin, wanting it to sound like the harpsichord in “lucy in the sky with diamonds.” we added melloton as well. when i play live, i sometimes have a string quartet that comes in at the end to help build the ending. treveor manear added the electric guitars inspired by jimi hendrix (an inspirator). there are songs, and there are records. my favorite records happen to be great songs. however, i’ll listen to a record where the song is second to the style or production, and gain something from that listening as well. i think brian wilson once said, people listen to records. so i keep that in mind. when i record, the song needs to work on a solo instrument (guitar, mandolin or piano are what i tend to write songs with). when a record is being made, i consider the choices and follow my instincts. when we recorded this song, i left out the bass as a tip of the hat to jimmy reed. at the time of the recording, the white stripes and black keys were not in vogue yet. i’m glad that these artists have picked up on blueprint of the blues. i wasn’t trying to follow or create a trend. i was just following my heart as an artist to create a record based on a song i believed in, that would stand the test of time. to paraphrase bob marley, no record, no song. yet without the song, at least in my world, there is no record. sam and i wrote the lyric before katrina. “swept up in the moement/washed away in the flood…”. then i realized that “ain’t no work in missisippi” was on the album as well (also written before katrina hit), and there lies the subtle connection between these songs. that really is how the album was put together. i wasn’t looking for a concept album like tommy or sgt. pepper, although i could probably turn marvin country! into a country rock opera if i spent time with it (maybe one day i will!). i just wanted a spider web thread running through the album, something you couldn’t see, but just feel as the album was being experienced. so recording a blues song felt like the right thing to do. if you take the time to listen to the album, i hope you agree.
I stayed home Sunday mornings when I was too little for Sunday school and watched Mahalia Jackson on TV. I had no idea who she was or what she was singing about, but I knew it was real and I knew I was moved. Even in the psychadelic 60s I listened to Elmore James, Arthur Crudup, Curtis Mayfield, and Etta James more than anything on the radio. That is until Hendrix. Those were passionate times and I wore everything on my sleeve. When Marvin and I started working on this song, I was ranting about something, and, well, you hear the product. |
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This Is Home
Our host and co-creator, Brandon Schott released a new music video this week – check it out above and spread the word!
And stay tuned for Defying Gravity Music Episode III with guest Marvin Etzioni coming next week – 6/30/2012!!
“SUPER FANTASTIC GUY” – Steve Barton
Here’s a special performance by Steve Barton of his song “SUPER FANTASTIC GUY” (from his new LP PROJECTOR). This was filmed in his backyard after our interview segment on May 12, 2012. Be sure to catch his episode in full HERE, featuring an exclusive demo from the “Projector” sessions.
You Are Here
Watching both episodes (of Defying Gravity) reminds me that there are others out there, just like me, which is important to be reminded of. Writing and recording, whether in my own head or my home studio, are very solitary events. At times, I think of music as a coping mechanism as much as it is a hobby, an art, or whatever other people think it is. It is something that I want to do and love to do, but it’s also something I can’t NOT do. I’m rambling here, but I really enjoyed the interviews. Watching them made me feel a little less alien. |
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| -Dan Pavelich, Music Journalist / Musician | |||
I received the above note via our FaceBook page – the response to the series has just been wonderful and heartwarming thus far and we here at DGM truly appreciate all your letters of encouragement and support.
But, Dan’s note really struck a chord for me, as it really spoke to the core of what we hoped to accomplish with Defying Gravity. The initial seed of our efforts were born out of a desire to harbor some kind of online musical residency, bring people together – talk about the thing we love and why we love it, share the seeds of our musical adventures (our influences) as well as the story behind some of our work and how it relates to the larger story of our ongoing creative lives.
Community is everything.
The internet and the readiness of technology has exploded the music business with opportunity and resources – we can all write a song, draft a simple (or complex) recording and upload it for the world to hear within minutes now. We can reach across state and country lines and connect with other like minded talent from across the globe. But with this outpouring of talent and content, it’s also harder and harder to cut through the white noise – conversations more fragmented, attention spans shorter. We’re all out there doing our own thing, all of us with a project on the verge of greatness (and never is this more apparent than after 11 years living in LA). We’re living in a ‘singles’ world, and I want to hear an album.
Our life is art – the time we share with each other, the relationships we form along the way, how we conduct ourselves in this ever changing business, and of course – the life’s work we offer to the world. So here’s to a new plot of land here on the internet, a new creative home.
Defying Gravity, in the spirit of its greatest potential, is here to bridge this conversation a bit further – or as Dan says so eloquently, make us feel “a little less alien.”
So, I suppose the overall purpose of this long (and rambling) post is to say….with all my heart: welcome to the Defying Gravity music community.
Brandon Schott
June 5, 2012
Los Angeles
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DGM
I Used Graham Parker for Evil
In the re-occurring spirit harbored here at Defying Gravity Music – how songs weave themselves into the story of our lives – we are pleased to bring you a special post by guest contributor and journalist Alex Stein…
Another Grey Area:
I Used Graham Parker for Evil, Not For Good
Three things you need to know about Graham Parker, the English pub rocker with twitchy New Wave leanings who came up in the 70s with Joe Jackson and Elvis Costello and was often lumped in with them by lazy journalists who labeled them as “Rock’s New Angry Young Men”:
- He was signed to and then dropped by every major label over the course of 10 years. In the music industry, it was thought that Graham Parker was just months (or maybe even weeks) away from becoming a superstar, but no record label could ever make Graham Parker a household name along the lines of Bruce Springsteen.
- Bruce Springsteen himself said of Graham Parker “He’s the only person I would ever pay to see perform – and I’d pay any amount of money to see him.”
- Graham Parker has made better albums than Another Grey Area, but none that are closer to my heart. Because I used Graham Parker (or more specifically his record Another Grey Area) for evil, not good. I’m not proud of this, but it is what it is.
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It ended badly. I won’t give you details, but it ended badly.
She was sneaking around with her ex-boyfriend while stringing me along. I found out. And was heartbroken.
And she moved on. Quickly. Because that’s who she was.
And I moped around. For months. Because that’s who I was.
And that should have been it.
Except for the dream.
Months after we split up, I dreamed I was at a Graham Parker concert. Right in front of the stage. The show was amazing. Rock and roll that scorched your heart. And then, mid-song, he stopped singing, waved off the band, stepped forward, and tipped his ever-present sunglasses down on his nose.
And looking right at me, Graham Parker said: “Stop moping about, Alex. If you want her back, get her back.”
Smart guy, that Graham Parker.
The next day, I was in a used record store because I’ve spent a great percentage of my life in used record stores. And there, between Dolly Parton and Ray Parker, Jr., was a Graham Parker record I’d never heard before called Another Grey Area. Remembering the dream, I bought the album. Plus, it was only 75 cents, so how could I not?
Every song reminded me of her. “Temporary Beauty” was like an argument where I said she didn’t need to wear a lot of makeup or look like everyone else and she got mad and thought I was saying she wasn’t beautiful, which I wasn’t because she was.
“Another Grey Area” (the song) reminded me of how stubbornly she refused to label relationships (and how desperately I needed to do exactly that).
And on and on. The entire record just spoke to me.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
I have to tell you right now that I never thought the songs were about her. Or that they were written for me. That would have been crazy.
And I wasn’t crazy. I was just obsessed to an unhealthy degree. It’s a fine distinction, but one I insist on drawing.
So I overlayed my emotions onto the songs.
Dream Graham Parker was right. I was going to stop moping around. And get her back.
I’d just finished a semester of reading Kierkegaard, which is a mind-fuck even under the best of conditions. So I started repeating over and over again the title of one of Kierkegaard’s books: Purity of Heart is to Will One Thing.
And then it hit me. If I really wanted to get her back, then by sheer force of will, I could make it happen.
No room for doubts. No room for questions. Just want it bad enough.
And I knew that Another Grey Area got me in the right mood. (And there’s really no harm in that. It’s like when actors or athletes listen to one piece of music over and over again to get them psyched, right? Right?)
So I started to listen to the record. Over and over again.
Often three or four times or eight a day. Driving my roommates crazy.
I knew every strum and downbeat, every intake of breath, every backing vocal part, every keyboard riff, and each and every click and pop on the deteriorating vinyl.
I was going to classes and doing normal things, but I hardly slept or ate and threw every spare ounce of my energy went into getting her back.
Not by doing anything, just by wanting it.
My friends all told me it was impossible and I cheerfully agreed. I’d never get her back. I knew this.
Days blurred into weeks and into months. Purity of Heart is to Will One Thing. Graham Parker’s Another Grey Area.
Ironies were lost on me — including the irony that Kierkegaard’s title meant something very, very different. (Plus, in all likelihood, Graham Parker would have been appalled that I was using his record as the musical and romantic equivalent of weight training.)
Like I said before, I’m not proud of this.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
And then the impossible happened.
Slowly.
Things thawed between us. We started spending time together.
I remembered all the little things I liked about her.
I ignored my strong desire to label the relationship. And I still listened to Another Grey Area but now only two or three times a day and repeated the Kierkegaard title in my head like a mantra, but only 8 hours a day.
Song titles and lyrics echoed through my brain. “No More Excuses,” “You Hit the Spot,” “It’s All Worth Nothing Alone,” “Can’t Waste a Minute,” “Crying for Attention,” and especially the last song on Side Two: “Fear Not.” Clearly (at least to my 21-year-old lovesick brain), the record was a call to action.
And then one night it happened.
If this had been a normal relationship or I hadn’t been so obsessed, I would have been more responsible. But I knew instinctively that having that talk would pull us back. And then it would never happen.
And purity of heart is to will one thing, right?
So, knowing I was being irresponsible and watching her pull my pants down past my knees, I plunged ahead. (It’s not something I did before or have done since… and, like I said, I’m not proud of this.)
You can probably guess where this is going.
She got pregnant. And had no desire to be pregnant.
I certainly didn’t want her to be pregnant (or at least not until we had jobs or could care for a house plant for more than a month without it dying), but I was confused about what I was supposed to do. And I felt guilty because I had the chance to stop and be responsible… but chose not to. (And if you think she could have been responsible, you just don’t know her. I knew it was up to me.)
Ironically, there’s a Graham Parker song (not on Another Grey Area, but on Squeezing Out Sparks, which if you don’t own already you should buy immediately – you can thank me later) called “You Can’t Be Too Strong” which is about this exact situation. Graham Parker accidentally gets this girl pregnant, she has an abortion and he has to hang out with his friends and pretend everything’s okay when it very clearly isn’t.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
She wouldn’t let me go with her. And after she just wanted to put it all behind her and pretend it didn’t happen. Which meant having nothing to do with me.
So it was over. Again.
I put Kierkegaard and Another Grey Area away. I kept going to classes, started eating more regularly. Slept a little. At some point, I guess, I graduated.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Recently, I found Another Grey Area at the bottom of a pile of old records. And I listened to it. From start to finish. For the first time in 15 years.
From the very first note, I was 21 again. Determination and hope swelled up inside me. Purity of heart is to will one thing.
Fuck yeah.
I could do it. Even now after all these years, I could get her back. Hell, I could get anyone back.
All I had to do was listen to the record again. And again and again and again.
When the second side ended, I turned it over to listen to the entire record again immediately. I picked up the tone arm.
Then I asked a question my younger self never would have considered: What’s the cost?
And I turned off the stereo. Sat in a silence made noisy by too many memories.
I know now I was selfish, blinded by determination. I’d harnessed energy in a way it wasn’t supposed to be harnessed. Convinced I could do the impossible if only I wanted it badly enough. I’d sinned against the gods of music. I’d used Graham Parker for evil, not for good.
And I paid the price for it.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
I know what you’re thinking: So is this a good album?
I don’t know. I’ll probably never know. But I know this:
About a year after all this happened, I had another dream.
Graham Parker was strumming an acoustic guitar in a coffeeshop when I walked in. He nodded to me, then said “See? I told you you could get her back.”
And then he started playing songs from Another Grey Area. Each one was slowed down and rearranged, the energetic calls to action now slow dirges. The hunger and yearning reduced to melancholy and loss:
And I walked up to Graham Parker, shook my head angrily, and poked him in the chest. “You never told me what the cost would be.”
Graham Parker nodded, staring at me, weighing his words carefully. “You gotta learn some things for yourself, kid,” he said eventually. “And there’s always a cost. The more impossible the task, the greater the cost. Hell, I’m just a songwriter — not even that, I’m your dream of your fantasy of a songwriter – but even I know that.”
And he strummed his guitar and right before he started singing again he said “some day, you’ll thank me for this.”
And… I do.
LISTEN TO ALEX PERFORM HIS PIECE LIVE.
Steve Barton (Episode II) Sneak Preview
Here are a few pics from this weekend’s video/podcast shoot with guest contributor and songwriter Steve Barton. We discuss his new album, “Projector”, how the powerful and emotionally stark material on this record was informed by his father’s passing in 2009, about writing songs as a healing and therapeutic endeavor, the touchstone albums for him during his time, PJ Harvey and the Plastic Ono Band, the first Translator album in 26 years – “BIG GREEN LAWN”, and whether or not Steve uses stick or aerosol deodorant.
Steve also gave us a beautiful essay and an exclusive demo of the Projector song “PLEASE”, which will be available for download for a limited time. Coming only to Defying Gravity Music on 5/31/12…
And while you wait, here are a few links to fill you in on the global “PROJECTOR” conversation…
Mapanare Interview
SongFacts Interview
Video Of The Day at Spinner
Episode I: I Have Seen My Hometown
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NOTE FROM THE PRODUCERS: Unfortunately due to a licensing delay we are unable to offer the customary 250 free downloads of I WOULD NEVER at this time. We hope to have this download available soon. For now please enjoy Brandon’s version of the song by streaming it above. And do seek out the original recording by THE BLUE NILE (from their album HIGH) on Spotify or in iTunes. Thanks for your support! |
What nobody tells people who are beginners — and I really wish someone had told this to me… For the first couple years you make stuff, and it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you…it is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions… It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through. |
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| -Ira Glass | |||
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Music. Songwriting. Inspiration. Discovery. Faith. Family. Transcendence. Our life is art, and this is Defying Gravity… Late one night a few weeks back my 9 year old son Tyler was working on a history report for school on George Washington, and it was truly getting the better of him. He kept stopping, pounding his fist on the table – convinced it wasn’t good enough – couldn’t finish it, couldn’t get the words together, was sure it was set to be less than he imagined. I hoped so badly in the long discussion that followed to impart to him how deeply I related to his struggle, about that all too familiar wall of doubt I tend to hit in life and as a songwriter over and over again, the wall of doubt that seems impenetrable and determined to keep us motionless. To have us turn our backs on what we’ve started. Despite whatever work I may have behind me now, it’s still a challenge to turn that inner critic off and allow the purity of the moment, however raw or unrefined it might be, shine through. Some of my best songs are ones I just let happen, without interference. Some of the worst come from the same process, sure, but I’ve learned to take them as they come. They all have their place in the chronology. Similarly in the recording process, I seem to reach that familiar spot as well. As I’m layering rhythm tracks or sculpting melodic counter melodies, that damn arrogant inner ear bastard (let’s call him Krueger – since, like Freddy, he feeds on (creative) terror) pipes up and tries to convince me that it’s not good enough, that my instincts are terrible, I’m on the wrong path. But I’ve found a rhythm in Krueger’s appearance, he comes – and if I take away his power, he goes. Self evaluation is important, but for me it’s the most productive to my craft only in hindsight. During my earliest years as a songwriter in Boston (circa 1998) I wrote a song called “CHASING T.S. ELIOTT” – a slow burning blues number in 6/8 about …..well, lacking the ability / vocabulary to be poetic – about that struggle to find your own singular voice. I dressed it up in colorful clothes musically, gave it some fancy passing chords / melodic gestures (thanks for that, Berklee), but at its core it was about the lack of experience and the frustration of not writing songs that sounded as poignant or as effortless as say a Neil Finn. “CHASING T.S. ELLIOT” was a sincere reflection about writing what I felt at the time were awful songs. The first verse went something like this: |
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Yeah, you get the idea. Looking back, while it’s not the most graceful – it’s probably one of the purest and most honest lyrics I’ve ever written, and it truly doesn’t try to cover the moment up in anything other than the relevant awkwardness of itself. I think our work – the good and the bad – all represent a time and place, and a truth that should be respected. These early songs are as important to my creative history as anything I’ll ever do. It’s an evolving and living process. I heard someone use a metaphor recently that every piece of creative work we put into the world is just one small puzzle piece with it’s own unique shape and color. It’s only after we’ve put enough pieces out there we can start to see exactly what it is we’ve painted through the canvas of our careers. Until then, I press on knowing that every one of my albums is at their core is a loving document of a life spent with friends and family. Tyler ended up taking a reprieve from his paper that night, pushed the tears across his face with the sleeve of his shirt, and spent what little was left of the day in my arms on the couch watching Star Wars (sometimes a little intergalactic therapy is gold). After a good night’s rest he jumped up out of bed and wrote his entire report in one 30 minute sitting, without complaint or hesitation. His report included the improvised gem, and I quote: “George Washington – I mean, who couldn’t love George Washington?” It’s universal, and ageless – we always tend to get in our own damn way. This month’s song offering is – to my ears – instantly evocative to all the above. I present to you my humble rendition of “I WOULD NEVER” by the great Scottish band The Blue Nile. I was recently rolling through the Crowded House channel on Pandora while getting some things done around the house, and this song came at me out of the blue and stopped me dead in my tracks. I must have listened to it half a dozen times back to back, the past and future colliding as I sat stunned in it’s beauty. |
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It was the sound of going home – the language of it, the sound of the production, the cool resolve of Paul Buchanan’s voice – instantly pulled me back to those days in Boston, to the poetry I was chasing then, and deeply yearn for now. |
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I thought of how far I’ve come, and how far I have yet to go to find my present tense as a spiritual being and as an artist. I try to remind myself that no matter how hard the struggle is to make those grand musical connections between the simple and the transcendent, between my work and my family – that one thing is constant: I will never turn my back on their love. - Brandon Schott
Brandon Schott is a Los Angeles based troubadour and family man. |
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