Quick Q and A with Jake Armerding (April 2010)
 by Kathy S-B  ·  24 April 2010

This interview makes me smile and also gives me pause to reflect on the life of an artist. Here you’ll find some rather interesting responses from Jake about what it’s like to be in the studio and about the songwriting process in general. We’ve loved the fact that Jake grew up here on the North Shore so we consider him one of our own.

Learn more about Jake on his website. Here’s a video of Jake singing one of his signature songs, “Ithaca.”

Your website says “Jake Armerding: Organic Music.” From the description of your recording session for your most recent CD, “Her,” it sounds as though you just let happen what would happen and then so be it. Was that a totally freeing experience? Not feeling confined by any “rules”?

It was a mixed bag, like it always seems to be. Artists need to be confined to a certain extent — parameters are important — but too much confinement leads to forced art, which nobody likes.

The traditional studio experience is a real gauntlet. Since you’re spending so much money and it’s so tough to get all the logistics (e.g. player’s schedules) arranged, you absolutely have to be prepared — as prepared as you can be. But beyond that, it’s out of your control. So you have to do two things right: you have to fend off laziness and prepare, prepare, prepare, so you’re as ready as you can be; and then, once you’re in the studio, you have to forget all that and try to relax and play natural and not think. The latter of which is really difficult for me — I’m very analytical, so I tend to overthink situations. Recording each album has become another chance to let go of stuff I can’t control anyway.

In that sense it’s a lot like a stage performance. You prepare what you can — have a set list, warm up, etc. — but you also know that the real magic of a show is when it goes off script a bit. So you have to relax your grip on it and not force it. And that IS freeing, when you can pull it off.

Wayback machine: Do you remember the first time you played with Northern Lights?

It was out on Nantucket, actually. I don’t remember the venue, but since it’s a tiny island, I’m sure I could figure it out. It was a theater, and it was arranged that I would come up on stage and sit in on a song or two, as a special guest. We did it that way for awhile, before I was allowed to join the band. It was really easy for me to be in front of people as a kid — you’re somewhat naive and you don’t have any doubts about anything. The world is simpler as a 13-year-old; as an adult, it takes more of an effort to relax while performing, because there are so many more real world concerns that are waiting to creep in. Say there’s only a few people in the crowd: you have the choice to start fretting over whether no one is responding to your music anymore, that you’re a failure, that you won’t make your rent, that you’re not trying hard enough, that you should change your show because what you’re doing doesn’t work anymore. Or you can resist that urge and do what you were made to do. It’s tough, but it’s your only option if you really want to be a performer.

You learned violin in the Suzuki method. But . . . you were also exposed to other musical forms in which the violin can be implemented. . . . Was this the best of both worlds for you?

Very much the best of both worlds. The best fiddlers have very solid technique, but many of them don’t, and I think it really takes some classical training to dial that in. Then you have the very passionate classical players, who are wonderful, but a whole bunch more who don’t play all that dynamically. Fiddle tunes and improvisation develop your creativity and give you more “life” as a player. Of course you have counterexamples all over the place, classical players with poor technique and fiddlers who play with no emotion. But those tend to be rare.

So I was exposed to each of those, and tried to acquire the strengths of each.

Tell us about the musical voyage that you went on from Caged Bird to Jake Amerding to Walking on the World to Her. How would you describe your musical journey?

If a musician wants to continue creating art that is relevant, he really has to be learning constantly. Your first record is easy because you’ve got a two-decade vat of experiences and musical ideas to draw from. Each ensuing album gets tougher, I think, because the vat shrinks — you’re only working with a couple years’ worth of ideas, usually. So Caged Bird was a really easy record to make, because I had tons of ideas that I thought were decent. Then your choices become either working constantly to keep the ideas churning, or relaxing your standards a bit because two years of creating will only get you eight or nine good songs, not enough for an album!

Of course some people, the really legendary songwriters, work much faster and get great ideas at a much higher rate. But even they have seasons of huge inspiration in their careers, along with dry ones. Paul Simon is a good example: He’s not really going to put out a mediocre album, but you can see in the early 1980’s he may have been suffering from a lack of inspiration. Hearts and Bones (1983) is a pretty uneven record, even though it’s got some brilliant songs on it, such as the title track. And I’m sure, for some of his fans, that’s their favorite album. But when a friend gave him a cassette tape of African music — and he’s said this in interviews — it just spun him off in this whole new direction, and composition became effortless. And that’s what you hear in Graceland: the sound of a prodigiously skilled songwriter and record-maker who has been re-inspired.

So to finish answering your question, writing songs is either a real grind or suddenly, startlingly easy. And it goes back to your first question in that writing songs as a kid is really easy because, even though you lack the skill set, you’re not hampered by doubts or what you think the songs should sound like, any of that stuff. You’re writing from a very innocent place. So Caged Bird was easy, Jake Armerding was tougher and Walking on the World may have been the hardest of all.

Within each record, too, you have songs that were easy to write, and a few that were almost impossible. The easy ones tend to be the best; like “The Fleece” was a really easy song to write, because it’s just true, it’s not trying to be anything except what is true. And the surprising thing is how difficult it is to tell the truth in art, because you’re either giving too much information or hiding something, often without realizing it.

Her was an easier record because I had a little stash of good song ideas that I planned to develop when I found the woman I would marry. Like “The Coastline” was germinated back in 2001, but I didn’t finish it until the Her record.

If you had a humungous budget and an all-star band at your disposal, what would you do?

Well, I would fire the band and hire my own personal all-stars: Mark Erelli, Zack Hickman, Damien Bassman and a handful of others. Then I would squander my humungous budget on a booking agent, manager, publicist and a few roadies. Then we’d hit the road.

Quick Q and A with Amy Speace (April 2010)
 by Kathy S-B  ·  24 April 2010

We’ve been waiting a long time to present Amy Speace at the me&thee coffeehouse. We’ve long admired her songwriting and incredible energy and stage presence. Amy recently left the east coast to live in Nashville. It’s been an adjustment but she seems to be taking it in stride as you can read below.

Amy just participated in a much-heralded tribute to the late Alex Chilton of Big Star while at South by Southwest in Austin. She shared the stage with Mike Mills from REM, M Ward, Susan Cowsill and the Watson Twins.

Learn more about Amy on her website. Here’s a poignant video of her classic song, “Weight of the World.”

We’re delighted to hear that you’ll be playing at this year’s WUMB Music Fest. We’re totally psyched about having you on a main stage and gaining new fans here in the Boston area. Any previews on hand at the me&thee on April 30?

I’ve been writing a lot, so I’ll probably preview some new material that MA fans haven’t heard yet. I’ll be going back into the studio in the Fall so I’m starting to take these new songs out on a short leash, so to speak. . . . Plus, obviously I’ll play songs from “Killer In Me” and “Bright Street.”

How is life in Nashville? How does it differ from the NY scene?

Nashville and NYC are so different. NYC is a major cosmopolitan city, all buzz and energy. Nashville is like a laid back small town with a few tall buildings. You need a car in Nashville. There’s no cobblestoned old quarter like The Village here. The pizza isn’t really that good and I haven’t found a good bagel yet. I miss 2am Chinese Food and a cheap Korean nail salon on every corner. But we have incredible barbecue and I love my neighborhood and the cost of living is so much more reasonable for a musician that life is just… well, easier. I had a bit of an adjustment period at first. It’s quieter here, for sure. No garbage trucks beeping their backup noises at 5am. Parking is no issue. I have trees that flower and a backyard and songbirds. And a house of my own, room to walk around in it and a nice backyard. I live in East Nashville, so there are pierced and tattooed people everywhere, which makes me feel at home. I haven’t seen a Stetson or a pair of Wranglers in my ’hood over here. It’s young and more “alt” than across the river and I like it that way.

The scene? Both NYC and Nashville are business towns, so the “scene” is really diverse. I’m on the road so much that I don’t really play in Nashville all that often, similar to how my life was in NYC. There’s no venue here in Nashville that’s like NYC’s The Living Room (or Passim), a singer-songwriter listening room place. The Bluebird is cool but it’s more geared toward writers. So you’ll go there and might not know the names of the performers but you’ll recognize the songs from the radio. There’s nothing like The Bluebird in NYC. I love to hang at The Family Wash in East Nashville because every night I’m there I meet other musicians. People are friendly here and the musician community is really really strong here. It took me years to find a niche in NYC, to find an artist community down on Ludlow Street. Here, it took a few days. It’s just more, I don’t know, open. Maybe that’s because I did my ‘time’ in NYC…

We hear a lot about all the music business that goes down in Nashville. Are you hoping to write tunes for other musicians as well as for yourself? Not exactly sure how that all works!

I write for myself. I never write a song thinking “I’m going to write this to pitch it to Taylor Swift or Reba or whomever. I don’t listen to commercial country radio. But if a song of mine gets to someone . . . I’m open to that. I am exploring co-writing. Have been for years. There’s a handful of people I love to write with. But I also do most of my writing alone, honing my own craft, still in search of that elusive truth and honesty place deep in my own core. I’m not necessarily here to find a publishing deal but I am exploring publishing opportunities. All in good time. I moved here mostly to change things up personally, and because my management is here, but also to have a better quality of life. I can afford to live in a house here, not just a tiny studio. My car insurance is cheaper. Everything is cheaper. And Nashville is very centrally located. Plus, when I’m off the road, there’s a creative flow in the air and its quieter and less distracting than NYC so I’ve been able to get a lot of writing done. And living. And biking. And cooking.

Much has been said about your time in a Catskills cabin writing your newest CD, The Killer in Me. It is apparent that you were in a pretty dark and isolated time in your life and you came out at the other end. . . . so is it weird that you are now singing those songs again but your head is in a different space? Know what I mean?

You have to find your way to the songs separate than the place that you wrote them from or else you’re just being self-indulgent. There’s a universal pathos in all songs that you have to find and then just deliver the song. If it’s a strong enough song, and hopefully it is by the time you’ve recorded it, if you’ve done your writer’s work, then the subjective germ that song emanated from originally folds into the more objective, universal truth of it and you don’t have to live in that dark place again in order to deliver the truth behind the song. Which is to say, I lived through the darkness, I wrote about it. I try to find the light when I sing those songs now. That way, someone else can see their way through it too.

You were “discovered” by Judy Collins’ manager at a South by Southwest gig and then got signed to Judy’s Wildflower label. Did you know this manager was present in the audience before you did the gig or did you find out afterwards?

I found out afterwards. She had come to see Gurf Morlix, who was playing after me. Then, later that afternoon or the next day, I can’t remember, I was on the rooftop of Maggie Mae’s on 6th Street in Austin at the Paste Magazine party and this woman came up and offered me a shot of tequila and we had a drink together. I didn’t recognize her, had no idea who she was but she seemed to know my friends and so we hung out. One of my friends slipped her a CD of my demo’s. When I got back to NYC, I had a gig at The Rodeo Bar and this woman came with some other folks and said hello and told me she worked at Wildflower Records and asked me who was putting out my next CD. I said, ‘Me’ and she offered me a record deal right there, in between sets. Goes to show you what good quality tequila can do for a girl’s career. And it’s a real lesson in that old adage about being present and taking every opportunity because you never know who’s going to be there.

I understand that Judy is covering your song “Weight of the World.” What’s it like to have a folk icon singing your tune???

*(*&$#&*(!_ unbelievable. I‘m stunned every time I hear her sing it.

Quick Q and A with Bob Franke
 by Kathy S-B  ·  2 April 2010

Bob Franke has been a mainstay in the greater Boston area for over three decades. So many of Bob’s songs are considered classics: “Hard Love,” “For Real,” and “Alleulia, the Great Storm is Over” come immediately to mind. Bob’s gentle and reassuring voice and his ability to convey profound ideas in his lyrics make him the ultimate singer-songwriter. To learn more about Bob Franke, go to his website. Here’s a video of Bob singing “Hard Love.”

Okay, let’s start off with the headier questions: Your biography says that you started off to become a priest but you got diverted along the way and became a singer/songwriter. Do you ever think about what your life would be like if you traveled the other road?

I think about it from time to time. I’ve known and loved a number of Episcopal priests in my life. In some ways it may have been easier to become one. But the Diocese of Massachusetts had a bishop a while back who shot himself at retirement, and my life could have gone in that direction had I not been honest with myself at a certain point in my life.

Your lyrics are some of the most honest and soul baring I’ve ever heard and I’m sure that your fans have probably told you how much your songs have resonated with you. For me, it’s “For Real.” The visual and aural images of having a neighbor who has lost her husband who plays a tape with his voice on it that you hear through the window at night send chills throughout my entire being every time I hear the song. Yes, it’s one of those songs that struck a chord with me even though I have never experienced anything close to that experience. But the core of the human experience is powerful and I want to thank you for that song.

Thanks.

Your songs have been covered by some terrific artists like John McCutcheon, David Wilcox, Lui Collins, Peter, Paul and Mary, etc. Do you have any favorites?

I love all those brilliant artists and am grateful for their support, and I suppose that the politic thing would be to say that I don’t have a favorite, but I have to say that June Tabor’s version of “Hard Love” showed me things I didn’t know were there.

I love reading MySpace “sounds like” designations and yours says “himself, at long last.” You’ve been at this for a long time. Do you have any recollection about when you really feel like it was all coming together and you were who you were destined to be?

I don’t recall that moment, maybe because I’m still evolving as an artist. But I do recall the moment at a Kerrville Folk Festival when I realized I’d morphed from a Young Turk into an Elder Statesman without passing go or collecting my $200, and wondering how that happened. A quite brilliant colleague told me at that point that “One Evening in Chicago” had inspired him for years. Uh, oh.

I have to say that my favorite quote about you is the one from Tom Paxton in which he said: “It’s his integrity. I always think of Bob as if Emerson and Thoreau had picked up acoustic guitars and gotten into songwriting. There’s touches of Mark Twain and Buddy Holly in there, too.” To me—-this wraps you up so perfectly. You have all the profound thoughts of everyone’s favorite Transcendentalists, Emerson and Thoreau, yet you add the wit of Twain and the beat and bop of Holly. I would die happy if anyone ever said that about me! Kudos! If you had only one song of yours to leave to future generations, which one would it be?

Probably my latest, “My Next Drink,” because I’m hoping it will be useful to people.

Okay, just for a little levity and to end this interview: Beatles or Stones?

Beatles. All in all, I think they did a better job both as musicians and megastars.

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