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Ryan Newell of clients Sister Hazel: I wrote “On Your Mind” on “BAM!” about Jett's mother and her struggle with dementia. It can come across as a love song, but that’s the real meaning. For the solo, I used an acoustic guitar, because the vibe called for it. We recorded it at Nickel and Dime Studios in Atlanta. I went into the booth and said, “I’ll just try something and we'll go from there.” The very first thing I played was the take we used. That does not happen often. When you're in the booth, everyone else is in the control room. After you finish a take, there is this long, uncomfortable silence. You know they're talking about what you just played, but you can’t hear them. Silence. You assume everyone is tearing you apart. You are waiting for them to push the talk-back and say, "Hey… maybe try another one." After I played this solo, I sat in silence for probably two full minutes. I thought, “Oh no.” Then the producer pushed the talk-back and unceremoniously said, "That's it. I think we got it." I said, "You don't want me to do another one?" He said, "No, you're not going to beat that. Come on in." Working on two special projects for Huey Lewis & The News. One should be announced soon. The other one might not be completed until next year. Stay tuned.
I talked with songwriter Andrew Morse about The Tasty Kings’ new album The Kindness of Numbers. My quick description: imagine if Lou Reed sang with the Rolling Stones. As you will see, that went over well with Morse. The Tasty Kings are a different kind of band. Their website uses the term “collective.” Morse writes the songs and then gathers some seriously impressive musicians to bring them to life. People like Charlie Sexton, Will Sexton, Charley Drayton, and Darryl Jones. And although these are his lyrics and melodies, Morse does not sing on any of the tunes. He plays guitar, but it is almost like he is a side musician in his own band. It’s a different approach, but the results are fantastic. I especially recommend the songs “New York Times,” “Tess of Soho,” “Sunset,” and “Fix My Head.”
The Tasty Kings website Cris Cohen: "Stay Weird" technically hasn't been released as a single. What's fascinating is that, despite not being pushed as a single, it's been deeply embraced by your fans, the Coffin Crew. People post photos of their “Stay Weird” tattoos. It's breaking through on its own. Once you release a song, it's not really yours anymore, is it? Lee Jennings of The Funeral Portrait: That's it. The fans decide the fate. They decide what's next. "Stay Weird" is the song they really love. And I like that it's not a single. Not everything has to be a single. I love that the fans hold that song. They cherish it. It's theirs. I don't want it to be a single. I kind of put my foot down. The label was like, "The fans really connect with that one." I said, “That's fine. Let them have it. Let them have their own imagery for it.” I don't need to sell it. That's a deep cut. That's for the fans. And here's the thing: if it had been a single and gone super viral, we would have to play it every night. I like teasing it. I like the question of, are we going to play it tonight or not? I think it's fun. Kim Wilson of clients The Fabulous Thunderbirds: You have to do your own thing. When people see me and see this band, they know they're going to get something unique, even if it's in a particular genre. Delivery is everything. There's just a certain magic to it. It really can't be taught.
Cris Cohen: You had a post on social media the other day where you said you were in the middle of a show, looked down at your sticks, and thought, “Wow, these two sticks have taken me all over the world.”
What is the lesson from that about the tools of the trade or about how to approach work? Jeff Marino, drummer and Music Director for Darius Rucker: Deep question. First and foremost, it is absolutely true. I'm at a phase in my life and my career where you can't take any of this for granted. I don't think I ever have. But you get to where I am in my career arc… I'm 53 years old. I've been on (tour) buses for 28 years. And every once in a while, you (think), “Man, I picked up two drumsticks in middle school and here I am still doing it. This really happened.” It was a (feeling of) thankfulness and an awareness of how fortunate I am to still be doing this. I actually took that picture during the show. Don't tell the band leader [he is the band leader]. But I had to grab that. I had to get that picture. It sounds corny, but it was a bit of a deep moment for me. I've been able to raise a family. We have a pretty decent house. My kids are grown. They're 23 and 19. I've been able to do all of these things as a result of two drumsticks. "We each have a sound as unique as a fingerprint, and although you can ‘put on’ a different voice, when you're done you always just sound like you. Throw personality and passion into the mix, and the human voice becomes even more unique." - Johnny Colla of Huey Lewis & The News (Clients)
Randy Jacobs of The Boneshakers: If you want to be the superior player, you have to be the superior groove master. That is everything.
"A large part of this job is imagination.
"When this band first started, I didn't have much. Back then I would spend a lot of time just walking in this neighborhood I lived in in uptown New Orleans. I would walk for miles and imagine myself playing a song or playing in shows. "I used that imaginative power to see what I wanted to do, how I wanted to approach things, and how it felt to perform those shows long before they ever happened. There was a lot of imagination at play. And there still is. "I still imagine the shows we are going to play long before we ever play them. That's one of the ways I rehearse off the road, practicing a show in my head. That way, when I do perform in front of an audience, I can allow myself to kind of let go and let the moment take over." - Fred LeBlanc of clients Cowboy Mouth Jeff Marino, drummer for Darius Rucker: The lesson Kenny Aronoff gave me when I was 12 or 13 that I still do today… you play one and three on the kick and two and four on the snare with the click. Do it for five minutes without hearing the click. If you hear one beat of the click, you have to stop the clock and start over.
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