American Songwriter » Long Features

SoundLand and the Rise of Nashville Hip Hop

Sean L. Maloney — Tue, 20 Sep 2011 18:12:53 +0000

(Yes, yes, y'all: Yelawolf comes to SoundLand)

If you were to ask the folks at Next BIG Nashville's SoundLand, they would agree: This is the first time the festival has ever had a great hip hop show on the schedule. Not that there haven't been great hip hop acts – Memphis' Skewby and Huntsville, AL's G-Side were both great last year – but this is the first time there's actually been a great show, great from the moment the doors open until the bouncers tell the last patron to leave. It's the first time there have been actual headliners – Big K.R.I.T. And Yelawolf, two of the years biggest national success stories – and an undercard full of proven locals. It's the first year in NBN/SoundLand's six year history, that hip hop is holding it's own with the indie rock and Americana that have built the festival.

It also marks the first time that an impressive hip hop line-up is even possible. While hip hop has been coming out of Nashville since at least the mid 80s – Desire & the Ville Posse and Blow Pop Crew are two of the earliest acts to release rap locally – and the 90s saw at least one act, Boogie, land a major label deal, there has never been a very visible scene in Music City. Local rapper Young Buck was drafted by 50 Cents G-Unit during the '00s and saw brief, platinum success, but that didn't spill over into his post-50 career and certainly didn't bring any of Nashville's other talent into the national spotlight. For years there was a serious brain drain, with artists and producers splitting town for more established rap enclaves like Atlanta, Memphis and Houston. Big tours skipped the city all together and developing and breaking talent in this town was next to impossible. But all that's changed.

2011 has seen the previously fragmented and marginalized urban music community coalesce and enter the mainstream of Music City culture. Tireless effort on the part of artists, promoters, and behind-the-scenes-types in town, and larger technological and economic shifts in the wider music industry have created an environment in which Nashville hip hop is not only thriving on the local level but making inroads nationally without the support of major labels or pop-star benefactors. There's a work ethic, strident independence and spirit of pop-experimentalism that hasn't been seen in this city since the days of Chet Atkins and the rise of the original Nashville Sound, a sound that – not incidentally – also had to fight an uphill battle for legitimacy and respect.

There's still a bit of cognitive dissonance that comes along with the term “Nashville Hip Hop”, even amongst insiders. This is, after all, the country music capital of the world and nobody's about to forget that, but at the same time the success of this scene are firmly rooted in what could be described as fundamentally Nashville values. Like the roots, rock and country scenes in Music City, the hip hop scene is steeped in the musical traditions that pre-date it, plucking bits and pieces from the entire history of recorded music to create sounds both new and familiar – classical, indie rock and soul have as much influence on hip hop in Nashville as hip hop itself does. Crafting strong, emotionally engaging stories with honest, poetic lyrics is just as important to this scene as it was when Van Zant and Kristofferson were running around these strengths. And a killer live performance, the bedrock that the Opry and all that came after is built on, is still the most important thing.

Whether you're talking about OpenMic's “Beautiful Rebellion” from the mixtape For The Rebels -- a haunting song built only with deft lyricism and solo piano -- or Chancellor Warhol's “Burn All The Money” from The Silver Factory -- an ethereal work of electro-art-pop -- there's an attention to craftsmanship that is essentially Nashville. Albums like Stix Izza's Highway 2 Mars, which is just as likely to go the epic, prog-rock-piano route as it is to clip club-ready synths, and Sam & Tre's self titled debut, which grafts hip hop's love for big bass sounds to reggae production tricks and classic analog synth tones, are impeccably produced with sound design as carefully honed as the songwriting. Dee Goodz, who kicks off his first national tour next month and ready's his debut full length, and Call It Dope!, a duo of bubblegum pop obsessed bohemians who've risen to the top of the heap on the strength of a four-song demo, bring the kind of personality and charisma that made this town famous to every performance.

(Big K.R.I.T.)

And the depth of talent doesn't stop with those that made the SoundLand cut – almost every week there's a new MC or producer dropping next-level work that trumps the successes of the week before. Amerigo Gazaway, a rapper producer with the funk-fiend Gummy Soul crew, recently got shout outs from NPR, Boing Boing and The Source for his Fela Kuti-De La Soul mash up Fela Soul. There's also local producer Ducko McFli who recently released – amongst three other album-length projects that same week – Chicago:Lake Shore Drive, a collaboration with MC Drupy Fli, built entirely from samples of legendary pop-fusionists Chicago. Rappers like Gray and Mello Rello take different approaches to creating effective, evocative narratives – the former more prone to abstraction the latter plain-spoken and understated – that are equally exciting. And the list goes on. And on. And on.

Audiences have responded in kind, embracing the flood of local talent and supporting shows that may have had spotty attendance just 18 months ago. And these audiences extend well beyond what one might think is a typical hip hop crowd – the guy at the bar going on about Chancellor Warhol is just as likely to be wearing a cardigan or Western shirt as he is a flat-billed ball cap. And while the crowd is generally of the generation which has grown up with hip hop as an omnipresent force in their cultural life, there are more generations in the crowd than you'd guess. In fact, the only real generalization that you can use for the Nashville hip hop crowd is that they'll be there. Who exactly they'll be, on the other hand, is an entirely different story.

Take for instance, Yelawolf's sold-out show at the Mercy Lounge back in the spring: upper-crust Vanderbilt University students were right up front pumping their fists right along side high school dropouts from the Antioch community in southeast Nashville where Yela spent a good portion of his adolescence. Or take, Mississippi rapper Big K.R.I.T.'s sold out Mercy gig at the beginning of the summer, which was scheduled at the same time as a wedding downstairs at Cannery. In the post- wedding/show rush to the exit the whole crowd stopped so a big, huge, tattoo-covered and dread locked hip hop fan could escort a little old lady down the stairs. To say that the crowds are never predictable and the vibes are always good is an understatement – the Nashville hip hop community takes a lot of pride in being a community, in acting like a community and sharing in the good fortune of being surrounded by great art.

That's why for, the first time ever, the folks at Next BIG Nashville have been able to pull together a great hip hop show. It's a natural fit for the progressive and exciting line-up that the NBN folks have pulled together. If SoundLand is about expanding the way the Nashville is viewed by the outside world and by the city's denizens themselves, then the new breed of hip hop is essential to that mission. As the city grows and the music industry adapts to the changes 21st century, Nashville become less and less of a one-sound town and the outside world is catching on. As Nashville's contributions to worlds of pop and rock penetrate deeper into the greater cultural consciousness, the hip hop community is clearly ready to further the idea that Music City is about all music, not just some and there's no better time to witness that in action than now.

Leiber and Stoller: Second Generation Standards

Paul Zollo — Tue, 23 Aug 2011 12:00:11 +0000

Hollywood. Sunset Boulevard. A suite of offices appointed with large, brightly colored folk-art paintings of blues heroes Muddy Waters, Robert Johnson and Willie Dixon. It's the headquarters of the legendary songwriting duo Leiber & Stoller, the team who created many of the first and most famous blueprints for rock and roll-songs such as "Hound Dog," "Jailhouse Rock" and "Kansas City"-by building a bridge from the past (the blues) to the future (rock and roll).

This article was originally published in American Songwriter in 2007.

Hollywood. Sunset Boulevard. A suite of offices appointed with large, brightly colored folk-art paintings of blues heroes Muddy Waters, Robert Johnson and Willie Dixon. It's the headquarters of the legendary songwriting duo Leiber & Stoller, the team who created many of the first and most famous blueprints for rock and roll songs such as "Hound Dog," "Jailhouse Rock" and "Kansas City" -- by building a bridge from the past (the blues) to the future (rock and roll).

Talking today, in 2006, to Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller is an unparalleled experience for many reasons, not the least of which is that there are so many unlikely components to their story. Like any meeting with legendary songwriters, there is the surreal recognition that their songs are infinite and unbound, yet the songwriters are quite finite and human even, sitting here in the same room-bound by time. Two Jewish boys from L.A. who got famous for writing in a black genre, they are now American icons who are integral facets in the history of rock and roll. Yet with a few exceptions, they've remained silent about the 56 years of their celebrated collaboration and have never really participated in their history as it's been written.

Their feelings about their now-mythic songs are bittersweet-often more bitter than sweet. And almost every one of the published stories which purport to get their history right, are wrong, including those surrounding the writing and recording of their most famous songs, like "Hound Dog" and "Jailhouse Rock" (both recorded by Elvis), "Kansas City" (recorded by The Beatles among many others) and "Stand By Me" (recorded by Ben E. King originally and later John Lennon). The Beatles also cut two other Leiber & Stoller's songs on their first demo, "Searchin'" and "Three Cool Cats."

It is true though, that-as the story goes-Stoller didn't like the idea of writing songs with Leiber when they met in 1950. It's not true however-as has been reported-that he said he didn't like songs. What he said he didn't like were popular songs; he preferred jazz. But when he realized that the young Jerome Leiber had written not lyrics for pop songs but blues, a bridge was built between them that still stands to this day. It's a bridge built on the blues.

Because their most famous songs came fast and easy to them, "hot off the griddle," as Leiber puts it, they don't tend to value them to the extent that they value songs like "Is That All There Is?" an existential theatrical ballad made famous by Peggy Lee. To this day, Leiber, the lyricist, and Stoller, the melodist, yearn to be known as more than writers of simple rock and roll. When I lingered on the writing of "Jailhouse Rock," for example, Leiber looked me squarely in the eyes and said, "Why are you spending so much time on ‘Jailhouse Rock'? Is it that important?" Well, yes. It is. Though they've written some of the most lasting popular songs ever, they didn't think any of them would last. As soon as they were off the charts, they felt they would vanish.

Leiber & Stoller have long felt their famous rock and roll songs were kids' stuff, and they wanted to write songs for adults-deeper, more musically and lyrically complex songs of which there exists an abundance in their mythical "vault." But except for "Is That All These Is?" it's their simple, easy songs that have connected them timelessly to popular culture. Out of the universe of albums that have been recorded containing their songs, the one that they speak of with the greatest pride is Peggy Lee Sings Leiber & Stoller, a collection of their "adult songs" sung by the legendary vocalist.

And while you might assume any songwriter would be forever proud to have had a song recorded by Elvis or The Beatles, they never liked The King's rendition of "Hound Dog," nor did they like The Beatles' recording of "Kansas City" (for reasons explained in the following). They only wrote "Jailhouse Rock" because the movie's producer refused to let them out of their hotel room until they came up with some songs. "Hound Dog" was written on the fly, and not for Elvis but for Big Mama Thornton. From the second Jerry uttered its title he didn't think it was sufficiently explicit, and still doesn't feel it is as biting as he wanted-nor does he see much value in other legendary titles he's created, such as "Jailhouse Rock" or "Spanish Harlem." Elvis's rendition of "Hound Dog"-perhaps the most famous recording ever of one of their songs-doesn't even use the right lyrics. Instead it copies improbable lyrics written for the song by Freddie Bell, who introduced the whole notion of a rabbit to the song, a notion that Leiber & Stoller regard as nonsense.

They were the first independent record producers to be officially designated as producers-"producer" being a title they invented themselves (they wanted "director"). But they started producing records only in self-defense, to ensure that their songs wouldn't be wrecked when translated to records. "We don't write songs," Leiber famously has said. "We write records."

Even with their most famous non-rock creation, "Is That All There Is?" they are forever dismayed by Peggy Lee's insistence on changing one word, an alteration-in their opinion-which dilutes the entire point of the song.

To this day, they often finish each other's sentences though their memories frequently clash. "Our relationship is the longest running single argument in the entertainment business," Jerry says, only half-joking.

But the connection that led them to write words and music like one person over the decades, even when they wrote them apart (they separately wrote the words and music to the refrain of "Is That All There Is?" yet then discovered that both parts fit perfectly), remains powerful, and as often as they argue, they laugh. And it's clear that there are few people they'd rather spend time with than each other.

Brandi Carlile: Some Strings Attached

Erin Carson — Mon, 25 Apr 2011 15:22:26 +0000

Singer-songwriter (and Columbia recording artist) Brandi Carlile has got one note in her repertoire that she intentionally tries to butcher. It’s the oft-referenced voice crack from 2007’s “The Story,” and as of May 3, it can be heard in live form on Carlile’s upcoming album Live from Benaroya Hall with the Seattle Symphony. Making a live album at all was “always in the ethers of [her] mind,” but it finally came to fruition in November 2010. Recorded over two nights and featuring a 30-piece Seattle Symphony, Carlile said recording and performing at Benaroya Hall was something that she hadn’t dared aspire to. “When I found out that we got to perform with a symphony, I raised my eyebrows; ‘Maybe at Benaroya hall?’” she said of the symphony hall she had driven past many times on the way to small club gigs starting out. In conjunction with notable originals like “Turpentine,” “Pride and Joy” and “Dreams,” several of the tracks on the album are covers. “This is what we do in our shows, so this is really the only honest thing to do,” she said of the band’s decision to include her versions of Simon and Garfunkels' “The Sound of Silence,” Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah,” and Elton John’s “Sixty Years On.” “We’ve always supported the concept of cultivating standards and we believe that our generation should embrace doing cover tunes, particularly cover tunes from artists that aren’t performing them in this time. Our generation is going to have its own set of standards based on that,” Carlile said. She noted “Hallelujah” as one of those future standards. Besides being her favorite song ever written, the performance proved to be a unique moment. “You’d be surprised. When you’re singing in front of that many people, it’s really hard to think about anything beyond that many people,” she said. “During ‘Hallelujah’ though, that one’s particularly transformative because I’m playing very little guitar. I’m mostly just singing the song, reflecting on the words, and I have 30-piece orchestra behind me playing one of the most beautiful string arrangements I’ve ever heard, so you don’t even think for a second that you’re being recorded. You just sing that song.” And just singing those songs was an experience in itself. “When you hear those strings behind you, it’s like you sing against them because if you don’t they’ll overtake the performance because they’re so powerful,” she said. “I’m not used to that kind of power in that context on stage. It was pretty unbelievable. It’s hard not to get choked up because you know how powerful strings can be.” Several of the string arrangements were done by Elton John’s arranger, Paul Buckmaster, someone significant to Carlile in part because of her admiration for John. “Elton is my greatest hero of all time,” she said. The album also includes possibly her most well-known song, the afore mentioned “The Story.” “It’s deliriously fun to play ‘The Story,’ especially once you get to that last big note at the end and you feel all the oxygen leave the room while everyone is totally afraid you’re going to butcher it,” she said. “It’s never been sung, its only ever been screamed, so the more I butcher it, the better it is.”

The Civil Wars: A Brand New Duo Burns Up The Charts

Andy Keenum — Mon, 14 Feb 2011 12:00:25 +0000

(Photo: Andy Keenum) Interviewing the duo of Joy Williams and John Paul White, The Civil Wars, proves to be a challenge. In addition to having two sold-out concerts in White’s home base of Florence, Alabama, The Civil Wars are celebrating the February 1 release of their debut album, Barton Hollow. The excitement level is high and we are briefly interrupted by a fellow local musician White has shared the stage with on many gigs. Grabbing a quick picture and a hug, the friend left, clearly a fan to the music The Civil Wars is creating. White responded to the welcome interruption, “Everybody, musicians, are pulling for each other in Muscle Shoals.” But fellow musicians aren’t the only ones pulling for the duo; Barton Hollow was the number one selling album on iTunes on its first day of release. “I think it’s a typo, a terrible April Fool’s joke,” White cajoles. “We’ve been punked!” Williams and White say in unison, looking at each other as if each knows what the other is thinking. “It is surreal to say the least. We’d be lying if we said we expected it or if it was even a goal,” White adds. “We would rather focus on doing shows and writing songs. The celebration will come later,” Williams says. So what is it about this indie pair that is selling out shows across the U.S, has the number one selling album on its debut release on iTunes, and will soon embark on a Paris tour? Charlie Peacock, producer of Barton Hollow and a longtime friend of Will iams says, “Their songwriting is of the highest quality but comes off effortlessly. That’s a gift. I think I was at their first gig in Nashville at a little club, and immediately got this crazy producer crush on. I would have paid them to work on the recording,” Peacock recalls. The Civil Wars are hardly new to the music scene; Williams and White are veterans of the music industry and both have achieved recognition in their individual careers prior to The Civil Wars. West Coast native Williams is a respected artist in pop, television and contemporary Christian music, earning eleven Dove nominations during her career. White has been a staff writer for a couple of publishers, and released his self-titled album in 2008. A chance pairing at an invitation only songwriter’s camp in Nashville brought the two together. They were there to churn out singles for specific country groups. As they begin to write, Williams and White sensed something special. “When he started singing, I somehow knew where he was headed musically and I would follow him. That has never happened to me,” Williams says. Although Williams and White come from different music styles, once they sit down something happens. “I don’t think either one of us could put it into some quantitative language. Somehow when we sit down together, we tip our hat to folk and several different genres unintentionally. If it is sad, I think that is what we are drawing out of each other and give the other the freedom to write, feel and express. You have to be friends to draw this out,” says Williams. “Darkness, sadness or bad emotion have a deeper current than a positive emotion. That sticks with me over time. I can recount valleys over my life much more than peaks. I feel a lot of people are that way, but again that is just one of those things that come out and we follow it,” says White on the source of his writing. “For us, a lot of the underlying meaning is all the internal and external battles that we have, whether it is with our spouse, addiction, job, God or lack of God, or whatever," he continues. "Small things build bigger; a lot of it is relational. Lots of what we write is what we would want to say to someone, but we are afraid of the consequences. All those little, tiny maneuvers we’re making, that’s where we live. Good or bad, those are the faces we put on.” But not all The Civil Wars' songs are based on internal emotions; several songs on the Barton Hollow album are true stories. The first cut, 20 Years, paints a lyrical mystery left to the listener’s imagination: There’s a note underneath your front door, that I wrote twenty years ago Yellow paper and a faded picture and a secret in an envelope. There’s no reason, no excuses there’s no second hand alibis Just some black ink on some blue lines and a shadow you won’t recognize In the meantime, I’ll be waiting for twenty years and twenty more I’ll be praying for redemption and your note underneath my door And your note underneath my door. “It’s a secret of my family,” Williams says of the song without further explanation. The title cut, Barton Hollow, is a dark and brooding lament of guilt and angst and foreboding of the devil and salvation. “It’s a real place near here,” White says, giving a nod to the community of Barton, Alabama, a few miles down the road from Muscle Shoals. This entire journey has been serendipitous for the pair since the first meeting three years ago in Nashville, including their name. “At the advent of the music we knew we wanted to create a mood. We each are married, but we are conscious of fighting for each other in our music. My husband, Nate (Yetton), and I drive past this Civil War monument alongside the interstate in Nashville. We thought, ‘Why not ‘The Civil Wars?’” Williams explains, “I suggested it to John Paul and he liked it. The domain name ‘The Civil Wars’ was even available for our website,” adds White. Settling on The Civil Wars, Williams and White used the Internet to their advantage, recording their live shows and giving them away. “Without a doubt, the free download of Live at Eddie’s Attic, The Civil Wars, was a driving force behind our success. A lot of things fell into place. Our song, "Poison and Wine," written for Grey’s Anatomy hit, then came the appearance on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno performing “Barton Hollow,” White recalls. “What helped solidify us was that day there was a CD available people could download.” Looking back over the last two plus years, Williams and White both agree, “This is so what I want to do,” as White puts it. “I don’t think either one of us knew that,” Williams adds. “I can’t imagine not doing music like this. I want to do it for a long time. I don’t think either one of us would have known this had we not shown up that day at the co-write that had been set-up by our publishers. Later we both found out that neither one of us wanted to go and thought about canceling.” Barton Hollow entered the Billboard Top 200 at #12. This unconventional duo with its minimalist style, who gave away their music to earn an audience, emits a sincerity and honesty not only in their music but also in their lives. Gaining new fans every day is evidenced by the number of sold out shows. But why? What is it about them? Peacock sums it up, “It’s a rare thing for any solo artist, or duo, or group to land on a thing, something that sets them apart from their neighbor. If The Civil Wars have done anything great so far, it’s this and they’ve done it without trying. All they had to do was get in a room together. We should all be so fortunate. All they need to do is keep making music and trusting the DNA. The rest will take care of itself.” * * *

From The Archive: Neil Diamond In Nashville

Chip Flippo — Mon, 27 Dec 2010 12:00:34 +0000

This story originally ran in American Songwriter in 1996. After spending the last year in some of this town's famed recording studios with the cream of the Nashville cats and getting over his writer's block, Neil Diamond is back with his first album of original material in four years, a TV special, and a world tour. And while it's not exactly true to say that he's gone country, Diamond says that he's adding a steel guitar and fiddle to his road band to accommodate the material on his new 18-cut album, "Tennessee Moon." Amid a flurry of activity, the Columbia album was released Feb. 6, domestically and internationally. Diamond then taped an ABC-TV special at Nashville's Ryman Auditorium which aired Feb. 24. Now he will begin a two-year world tour March 26 in Australia. Columbia plans a big push for the album, according to Peter Fletcher, VP for marketing, West Coat. "This is Neil's best record in a decade." He says. "And our main job is to let Neil's fans know it's available. They're incredibly loyal, but they're not average radio listeners, so we have to find other ways to reach them. The cornerstone of our initial setup will be co-promotion of the TV special with ABC during their (ratings) sweeps. After the album release date, we'll target Valentine's Day sales to his fans, and then we'll kick into high gear the rest of the month, leading up to the TV show." Fletcher says plans include a promotion with Target, including a special Diamond CD sampler with seven love songs. "Neil will be the featured musical artist in Target for February and March. We'll also have a major national contest through Handleman and Kmart, with a chance to win a Harley-Davidson motorcycle (Diamond's ride of choice) and Harley apparel. We'll have special in-store displays and end-cap main aisle space in both Target and Kmart." Fletcher says a radio promotion strategy is still being finalized, but initial plans are to take the entire record to country and AC, with focus tracks for each format. The album covers the musical spectrum---from traditional, lush Diamond epics to straight country, with some surprises in between (including funny talking blues). Except for a revamped country version of "Kentucky Woman" and two other songs, all the songs were co-written by Diamond with Nashville songwriters (one with son Jesse). Diamond says his Nashville stay has re-invigorated his writing chops. "Nashville is something every artist thinks about at some point, because of the pool of talent here," Diamond says. "Bob Gaudio (his producer) pushed me over the edge and told me it would be good for me and my music." Diamond ended up writing with Harlan Howard, Gary Burr, Raul Malo, and Hal Ketchum, among others and recording duets with such artists as Malo and Waylon Jennings. "We ran down a list of potential writers," he says, "and then got realistic about how many writers I could work with and came down to a list of 20-25. Then I met with them at least once before the writing sessions. I hit it off with just about everyone. Then we set a writing everyone. Then we set a writing schedule, where I would do two writing sessions a day, and I would start a song that we would be excited enough about to continue and finish. We started every song pretty much at this kitchen here (in his house outside Nashville), sitting face to face with two guitars, my DAT machine and a stereo mike pinned to the window curtains here." Diamond says that before coming to Nashville, he had not written a song for three or four years. "I have not been able to get myself to complete songs. I had started songs that I really liked, but had not been really motivated. Columbia had given me the easy way out by letting me do Christmas albums. I felt a definite need to write again and express myself about my life and add new repertoire to Neil Diamond's catalog, or life's work, or whatever I've done. I hope some of these songs will stand among my best." "This is American music in a way I've never really conceived of before," he says. "Just listen to Mark O'Connor's fiddle, the way he lays around my voice. Steel guitar and fiddle are soulful instruments that I've never used before---great discovery. I feel good about what we've come up with here. I've got Chet Atkins on here, which was one of my fantasies." Diamond says that as the writing went on, the material became more and more autobiographical. "It's probably a milestone album for me, in that it proved to me that I can write my own heart and my own feelings after all these years. I can still get down to the nub of the truth. It's nice for me to know I can still do that." Songs like "Prison Doors" and "Win the World," he says, are very much the story of his life. "I've lost two marriages now to my career, without any question, and that song "in The World" is the answer t it. So maybe I won't do it again." Diamond is considering keeping a home in Nashville. "I like the writers' community here. I had never been out to the clubs before to see the songwriters nights, which are amazing. Even in the Brill Building days the songwriter didn't have that kind of focus or forum. I like that a lot. The Brill Building was star-driven. This is writer-driven, and the city itself is creatively focused on the writer. The Brill Building, writers had no freedom. They were forced to write for very specific reasons, for very specific artists." Diamond, who was a paid house writer in those days, says e appreciates the difference. "There certainly was no golden age back then if you were just another writer. You were just another piece of chattel at 50 bucks a week against future royalties. There was very little respect for the writer then. You were just a hired hand, kept in servitude. I was just lucky. It was just plain dumb luck that I was able to break out of that vicious cycle that writers were caught up in. This album reminds me of that era, except back then I was in the basement. Now, I'm in the penthouse. It makes a big difference." Diamond is managed by Gallin-Morey Associates. He has no booking agent. His publishing company is DiamondSongs, administered by Sony Music Publishing and SESAC (except for "Kentucky Woman," which is Talleyrand Music, Inc).

American Made: A Q&A With Randy Houser

Evan Schlansky — Thu, 30 Sep 2010 21:05:16 +0000

If you've ever heard "Honky Tonk Badonkadonk," you've heard a Randy Houser song. The Mississippi native co-wrote everybody's favorite ode to redneck booty with Jamey Johnson and Dallas Davidson in 2005. But Houser has a far more serious side, and can write a song about anything. On his new album, They Call Me Cadillac, which debuted last week at #8 on the Billboard Country Album charts, he tackles themes of home, country, manhood, and good old fashioned romantic love. How has the reception been for They Call Me Cadillac? The reception to They Call Me Cadillac has been really strong. The record, with all the reviews, it’s all been very, very positive. For the most part, people understand I was making the record I wanted to make as a songwriter. And that is one of the main focuses of this album. What’s the one song you want people to hear on They Call Me Cadillac the most? I don’t think I have a particular song that I love the most. I have some I love sonically more than others. There’s a song “Addicted” that I really like. I like the space on the recording. That’s one of the main things I wanted to create when I made this record. Make sure people remember that as a songwriter I can sit, play my guitar, and sing. Sometimes a lot of that gets covered up in production, and my producers, Cliff Audretch III and Mark Wright and I wanted to make the record more organic. What’s a lyric on the album you’re particularly proud of? The song “Here With Me” I wrote all of, and the first lyric on the track is one of my favorites. You’ve said it’s your job as an artist to be an open book to your fans. How so? A lot of times as artists, we get scared to talk about things going on in our lives, verbally, we tend to keep it all inside, for the most part, our music is our outlet for pouring out all those things we can’t really say. So we get to hide behind the lyrics of songs, or melodies. I believe we should take it a step beyond that and bring what it is out of you. It’s almost like my version of therapy. We want to put it on paper instead of [pouring it out to] some guy on a couch. The new album is perhaps more of a traditional country record. What’s the difference, to you, between traditional and mainstream country? I wouldn’t say it’s a traditional country record. It hints at what a traditional record was, but I think that…I guess when I say traditional, it reminds me of records I listened to as a kid from the '70s and '80 which were the Hank Jr. records and the old Waylon…those things were very non-traditional when they were made. At this point, they’ve become somewhat of a norm to me and when I say traditional, those things are traditional to me, and I believe I’ve made a record that resembles that. What song are you contributing to the upcoming Waylon Jennings tribute? Are you a big fan? I’ve always been a fan of Waylon Jennings because he’s an amazing artist. I was asked to contribute something to the Waylon project, which is a tribute album. The track that I contributed was a song called “I’m a Rambling Man.” I did it my way because I knew Waylon liked the blues so I gave it a Mississippi feel. You co-wrote “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk.” Do you still see steady royalties from that? I do, I’m not sure what the number is on the royalties. That song is always a song I’ll make some sort of income out of, because it was a different song that people were and are still shocked by. Love it or hate it, it’ll probably be around for a while, and I think I’ll have an income for a long time off of that. What do you think of what Jamey Johnson is doing right now? I love what he’s doing. It’s definitely something we need. People that haven’t been fed the music that we love are being fed by the music that James is doing. There hasn’t been anything like that in so long – it’s been so pop-oriented in our format. It is so refreshing to hear something that reminds you of what you grew up listening to. I think that’s very important, and I am so proud of him. Tell us about some of the co-writing you did for They Call Me Cadillac. Some of the songs on They Call Me Cadillac were written four or five years ago. I can’t even remember what was going on when we wrote them. A good chunk of this album was written on the road last year on the bus. Every quite moment I’d get, whether it was in the middle of the night, sitting on the back of the bus, when the rest of the band had gone to bed – I’d sit back there and write. I would try and sort out the thoughts in my head. I wrote “Whistlin’ Dixie” in a co-writing session in Nashville and then I remember sitting in the parking lot of a bar we were playing at in Charlotte, North Carolina and writing the second half of the song. Then we learned it, played it at sound check, and performed it the next night! There are stories like that and then I have those times like when I wrote “Here With Me” – I wrote the first of that one when I was sitting at home and the second half of that on a plane back from Iraq. There are all sorts of stories. What's the key to good co-writing? I don’t know if I’m a good co-writer or not. I know what a good co-writer is when I’m writing with somebody. I just don’t like hanging out by myself – I love to have someone else in the room to bounce ideas out of. Some people bring a comfort level to the room that is a confirmation that you’re on the right track. It’s an atmosphere thing- you need to find guys that you don’t feel like you’re stupid for saying something and then be able to laugh at it! I don’t’ know if it’s about being the best writer – if someone comes in and I like hanging out with them, the song will get written.

Tony Joe White On Performing, The White Stripes, and Shine

Davis Inman — Wed, 29 Sep 2010 16:11:01 +0000

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A young woman dances seductively in front of Tony Joe White at the Exit/In in Nashville, Tennessee. She extends her arm, snaps photos and videos on her cell phone just inches from his face. But the Swamp Fox doesn’t seem to mind. Tony Joe White’s music has a grinding, sexual heat, and his fans tend to groove slowly to his guitar’s rhythm, while the rest of the band – a sole drummer – keeps a rock steady country backbeat. A few days after the show in Nashville, White, over the phone from his home in Leiper’s Fork, twenty-five miles south of Music City, explains his live show. “The audience is my setlist,” says White. There’s more freedom and his guitar playing can be looser without a full band, he says. “The drummer, he don’t care what key you’re in. He don’t know what key you’re in.” Not having a full band also works better without a setlist, anyway. “I never know what I’m gonna do and people start hollering out things,” he says. “If you had four or five pieces on stage, and all a sudden you wanna do a tune like ‘Willie and Laura Mae Jones,’ [the band is] really gonna have to know the chords.” The two-piece guitar-drummer approach might remind younger listeners of other groups. After a big festival gig in Melbourne, Australia, a few years back, a young woman, accompanied by a young man, approached him after his set. “She said, ‘We do what you just did on stage, you and your drummer. This is my brother and we’re the White Stripes’.” White says he feels a kinship with his fellow Whites, even though their musical origins are different. “It’s raw, I like [the White Stripes] on stage. They’re not down in the swamps, but they are raw.” White grew up the swamplands of northern Louisiana, the son of a cotton farmer, and he’s maintained a rural identity and affection for the woods throughout his life. He first started writing songs after he heard Bobby Gentry’s “Ode To Billie Joe,” in Corpus Christi, Texas, while he was working the club circuit as a blues guitarist and singer. “Man, that is so real, I am Billie Joe. I know that life,” he thought about Gentry’s anthem. “If I ever write anything, I’ll write about what I know and it will be real,” White resolved. Within a short while, he had penned two classics, “Polk Salad Annie” and “Rainy Night In Georgia.” Both told vivid stories that were true to him. His mother had fed him polk, which grew around the cotton fields near his home, and he’d spent time in Georgia with his sister, staying inside to practice guitar when it rained. Now, at age 67, White has again drawn on what’s real to him for a new album called Shine. The album deals with themes like childhood nostalgia, age, and alienation. On “Long Way From The River,” the singer feels out of sorts in cosmopolitan Paris, France. On “All,” he sings of a youthful lover and pictures her jumping into the river, though he says the song is an amalgamation of memories. In the song’s chorus, he sings, “I walk these rooms late at night/Trying to place the call/I can still hear your footsteps/Echoing down the trail home.” On Shine's most beautiful song, the final track "A Place To Watch The Sun Go Down," White vividly describes the place where he builds a fire, plays guitar and works on songs each evening at home. The feeling behind the song “Roll Train Roll,” White says, is about freedom. “At a certain time in your life, sometimes you just need to move,” he explains of the song’s refrain, “I don’t care where it’s going/ I just need to ride.” Fittingly, for a man alternately content to make a fire and watch the sun go down or to play the audience's requests night after night, White is heading out on a tour of the Southeast and Midwest to promote Shine over the next few weeks. On the first show of the tour, in Nashville, the woman who had earlier snapped photos, gets up close again and whispers something to White. He nods his head, smiles, and he and the drummer launch into “Willie and Laura Mae Jones.”

Raul Malo: The Liberated Songwriter

Erin Carson — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 16:06:09 +0000

On Raul Malo’s upcoming album, out September 28 on Fantasy Records, he’s bringing with him a realization he’s come to over the years. “I think a lot of us pretend to be in the black or the white and live in absolute, but I don’t think life is that simple” Malo said. "Life is far more complex and interesting than just to deal in absolute." It’s an idea that pervades the record down to the last track. The album is called Sinners & Saints. Malo recorded the majority of it at his home studio in Nashville, luckily before the city flooded in May, damaging his house and destroying many of his guitars and equipment. “You’re raised a certain way," he continues, "and you’re supposed to believe these things are absolute truth. As you get older you realize that there’s no absolute truth.” He calls it a reconciliation between the intellect, heart and spirit. Though, if there’s anything that can stand close to being an absolute, it’s that self-producing an album is a lot work. Malo, who fronted the alt-country group the Mavericks in the 90s, was involved in just about every aspect of the creation of Sinners & Saints, down to tracking instruments in his home studio. “The good thing is that you can tinker with it to your heart’s content, and the bad thing is that you can tinker to your heart’s content,” Malo said of the process that eventually lead him to Austin, Texas, seeking the sounds of friends like Augie Meyers of the Texas Tornados. “I wanted this record to be a very personal statement about what I’m thinking and what I’m feeling and about where I am musically at this point, and I think that this record shows that,” he said. To begin with, the ability to do said tinkering stems from Malo’s more recent solo pursuits. The Mavericks saw numerous singles make the country charts and picked up several Grammys before disbanding early in the 2000s. Life post-Mavericks has plenty of gray areas of its own. “There’s one thing about not having a big, popular hit record, is that you can pretty much do whatever you want, and when you’re having popular hit records, that’s all anybody wants you to do” Malo said. “I feel like I have the creative license and freedom, and I enjoy that. It’s ironic because your popular records feed a lot of people, but it’s not always the most interesting music, to say the least,” he said. Sinners & Saints definitely differs from the Mavericks era, whether it’s the inclusion of songs like “Living for Today,” a commentary the fast-paced, short sighted, tech culture of the modern day, or “Sombras,” a Spanish love song, originally sung by Libertad Lamarque in 1943. “Lyrically I think fits the theme of the album, again dealing with that duality,” Malo said of the latter, “Is she a saint, or is she a sinner? Maybe a little bit of both, probably.” The album has it’s bouts of surf guitar sounds and flashes of flamenco. The title track, for example, falls somewhere between mournful Spanish horns and Dick Dale-- and it’s nearly two minutes before Malo actually starts singing. In what he sees as an age of dwindling attention spans and a proclivity toward the Shuffle feature, the extended intro was a point to make. “It’s my own little defiant thing,” Malo said, “I’m perfectly aware that people can just skip right over it, but if you can get somebody to actually sit down and listen to an album, they might actually enjoy it.”

Vance Gilbert: A Black Musician In A Folk World

Jessie Torrisi — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 22:27:57 +0000

"Less brisket, more chicken wing!” A Tuesday in early August, Vance Gilbert shows up to his workshop at the Lyons, Colorado Song School complaining about getting older and living half a life on the road. “Singing is an athletic event. I mean look at what you’re doing. You’re working this whole stage,” he shouts. Earlier, he went for a run amidst the Rocky Mountain cliffs. He doesn’t drink too much or eat too late at night anymore. He stops to stretch on long car rides to gigs. But Gilbert – who burst onto the singer-songwriter scene in the mid-‘90s playing alongside Shawn Colvin – is proud of being a late bloomer. Being an African-American in the very white world of folk, he’s taken the road less traveled and found a sense of humor doing it. Today, Gilbert is one of a handful of black artists playing all-acoustic music, a genre black audiences tend to ignore at best and disdain at worst. Gilbert's opened for Aretha Franklin. “Twice I’ve gone over like a fart in church,” he says, at the same theater where he’ll share the stage with Anita Baker in a few weeks. He calls black crowds “the singular hardest audience to play in the folk-singing world.” Not that there aren’t black troubadours. Think of Robert Johnson – all the blues greats. It’s just not a connection audiences tend to make. You strap on a guitar and maybe a hat. The next thing we think about is someone yelling, ‘yeehaw’,” he jokes. Steeped in jazz and the blues, Gilbert’s found a way to straddle worlds successfully – touring with George Carlin one night, packing a jazz club the next. It’s a lesson he aims to pass on. Lesson #1: Tell your story with confidence. One by one, he pulls the Song School students to the mic, American Idol-style, interrupting with advice. Rhonda Lynn, from Canada, launches into a song about not being pretty enough to cheerlead, or smart enough to join the science club, so she became the school’s best stoner. It’s got a core of truth wrapped in a wry smile. Own it, he coaches her. “What do you want to do? Let me throw a challenge out. If people aren’t hearing the story - which is what is most important - if you have to move around & dance to get your story across,” he leaves the thought hanging. He names one folk artist, famous for jumping around the stage. “You don’t think of a story. Song-wise, it’s Chinese food. I’m hungry an hour later.” Lesson #2: Don’t be afraid to get loose with it. Teresa Storch launches into a sultry blues. “When you come into the solo section, what I’d like you to do is go ‘Hey hey’,” Gilbert says. He throws it out like a gospel call. “Then leave a lot of space.” And start moaning. “Moaning?” Storch asks. “For the love of Christ, you’re improvising. Stop asking me questions,” he responds. She tries again. A wide grin spreads across his face. “Wonderful. I want the moans to be nasty and kind of sexy.” Next up is a student of Gilbert’s from Boston. He’s short, balding, in his ‘60s. “Rick is a little white guy – I don’t love him any less. But I’ve been taking money from him every week to blacken him up,” Gilbert jokes. “Everyone playing folk has got a little white guy inside of him.” Rick does an impressive rendition of "On the Sunny Side of the Street." “Moan it Rick,” Gilbert chides. “Less brisket, more chicken wing!” Pretty soon, Rick’s scatting like he’s on Basin Street in New Orleans. Other advice is more technical. Jack the guitar up like a young McCartney. Angle the microphone so you barely have to move. Practice in the dark so you don’t have to look or think – just feel. Ease is everything. “You got to be solid in what you’re doing before you go off. Otherwise, you are a poser,” Gilbert says. “If I don’t move around, isn’t it going to be boring?” pipes in one student. “When Garth Brooks does 'Tomorrow Never Comes,' ain’t no dancin’ involved. I don’t need no dancin’. That songs kicks my ass,” he answers. “Groove is great. But if I want to boogie, I’m going to put on Sly, or The Average White Band, or D’Angelo.” In this music, it’s about how groove propels the story. Lauryn Hill, Jay-Z, D’Angelo, Alicia Keys are among the few who manage to meld songs with great stories and lyrics to a serious beat. But they’re up against the same wall. Lauryn Hill’s live acoustic album tanked, compared to her hip-hop produced debut. Babyface did an unplugged version of his hit "When Will I See You Again." “Does anyone know of the acoustic version? No, no one gives a shit,” Gilbert shrugs. One of the rare exceptions, where 12-string guitars meet clapping, stomping, and sing-along pop, is The Isley Brothers. Gilbert lost his virginity to "Fight the Power." “As much as I want to knock an audience on their ass, regardless of color, that’s our cross to bear. The legacy is a storytelling one.” Many contemporary audiences see an acoustic guitar and hit the snooze button. But a great story can break down the wall. Gilbert picks out the chords to "Guess Who I Saw Today" – a songs older African-American women often request. "You’re so late getting home in the office. Did you miss your train? Did you get caught in the rain? No, don’t bother to explain," he starts singing. The story unwinds. The narrator went shopping then stopped at a French café. Many students don’t know it. They’re hanging on every word. The narrator spots a couple, in the corner, so in love they filled up all the room. Gilbert builds, hitting his falsetto. Guess who I saw today my dear? I’ve never been so shocked before. I headed blindly for the door. They didn’t see me passing through. Guess who I saw today? I saw you. “Sing it girl. No, that Negro did not do that to you,” Gilbert imitates the catcalls he usually gets from the audiences then. While audiences may not see the connections between a song that moves your body and soul, Gilbert does. “That’s where I come from,” he beams, “the jazz storytelling thing.”

John Denver: The Fifth Song He Wrote Was A Hit

Deborah Evans Price — Fri, 20 Aug 2010 13:00:06 +0000

This article originally appeared in American Songwriter magazine in July 1992. Many songwriters have to write hundreds of songs before they pen a great one. With John Denver it only took five. The fifth song that he wrote was "Leaving on a Jet Plane," a tune that became a number one hit for Peter, Paul and Mary in 1969 and launched the career of one of popular music's most highly acclaimed songwriters. Penning such mega-hits as "Take Me Home, Country Roads," "Rocky Mountain High," "Sunshine On My Shoulders," "Annie's Song," "Thank God I'm A Country Boy," "Calypso" and others. Denver's songwriting defined a decade of popular music. He has an incredible sales record, having 14 gold and 8 platinum albums to his credit in the United States alone. His Greatest Hits lp is still one of the largest selling albums in the history of RCA Records, with world-wide sales of over 10 million copies. Denver currently records for his own label, Windstar, distributed by American Gramophone Records. A love of music and the environment, and the desire to communicate those passions to other people led Henry John Deutschendorf, the son of an Air Force officer, to write his first song at age 13. "I think it's natural for anyone who starts to play a musical instrument to start pretty soon experimenting with melodies of their own," Denver says. "I was about 12 when I started playing the guitar. I think the first song I wrote was when I was about 13. It was at a Presbyterian Church Camp in Arizona. One day I went for a walk up the Colorado River and the song I wrote was called "Sittin' On The Banks of a Lazy Little Stream." It's interesting to me that from the very beginning nature was a big part of how I tried to communicate or articulate myself." Denver says it was about a year before he attempted a second song and then he just wrote sporadically over the next few years. "The fourth song I wrote was called "For Baby (For Bobbie)," he recalls. "It was written for a girl. And the next song I wrote was "Leaving on a Jet Plane." That's about the fifth song I ever wrote." Denver's first big break as a singer also led to his first and only publishing association. He auditioned and won a spot as lead singer for the popular Chad Mitchell Trio over 250 other young hopefuls. Denver said he had never thought much about signing a publishing agreement, pitching songs or any of that. He says things began quite simply when he sand a song he had written for Milt Akum who headed Cherry Lane Music. "He said it was good enough for the Trio and offered to be my publisher," Denver recalls. "And he has been ever since." He continues, "I had never thought about signing with a publisher. I never thought about the business end of it. When it got to a point where a song of mine was going to be recorded then it was appropriate to have a publisher, it was much smarter to have a publisher who knew the business and who could take care of me in an area where I have no talent or ability or knowledge than to try to do it myself. "I feel very lucky to have been able to sign with a very able, wise and honest man. And I underline honest because there are a lot of crooks out there that will make every deal they can, hoping to sign some young kid who has the greatest song in the world, make a fortune and pay the kid as little as possible. Unfortunately, that goes on out there. But you trust your heart and look for a guy who can do the things you can't do." Denver says Akum has built Cherry Lane into one of the best publishing companies in the world and he has always been very happy with his affiliation with them. After more than 20 years with Cherry Lane, Denver says Akum approached him about starting a new company. "We have now established a new company called Cherry Mountain Music of which we share ownership," John explains. "It was Milt's idea and his offer. He said ‘John it's appropriate you get a part of the business end of it too'." When asked if he had a specific method or approach to writing songs, Denver replies that he is a very unstructured writer. "I don't sit down every day and try to write a song. For some people, it's like a job and that's what they do. They go in and try to write a song," he says. "For me it quite often begins with a phrase like ‘leaving on a jet plane' or ‘follow me' or ‘back home again' or ‘sunshine on my shoulders'. "What'll happen there'll be a phrase or line that I've come up with. When I'm driving I'll start writing the song in my head. Then when I get to a guitar, I'll sit and play it on the guitar until the rest of the song comes. Some songs come very quickly. I wrote "Annie's Song" in 10 minutes one day on a ski lift - that's how I know it was 10 minutes. Then other songs like "Rocky Mountain High" took about six or seven months to write." Denver says he believes a songwriter instinctively knows when a song is finished and says he very rarely rewrites a song once he's finished it. "You take whatever time it takes and when it's done, it's done," Denver says. "I'm one of those that feels the song has a life of its own and in my songwriting I want whatever comes through me to be true to the song. I try to be true to the song, true to the music." Denver says he collaborates occasionally, but for the most part prefers to write on his own. He cites Joe Henry as the only other songwriter he's collaborated with to a great extent. "If I get stuck lyrically, he's the person I call," Denver says then adds, "I've never gotten stuck musically." "Windsong" is one of the tunes Denver and Henry wrote together. "We sat up one night and talked about the wind," Denver recalls. "Joe and I wanted to write a song about the wind and we talked and talked. I put out all these ideas and pictures I had in my head and he took notes. He stayed at my house that night and the next morning I got up and he had gone. The song was written out on a piece of paper on the kitchen table. So then the song was there and that gave birth to the music." Even though he had hits and seemed to master the craft of songwriting at an early age, Denver says he's continually improved upon his craft and feels his writing has changed over the years. "It's more mature," he states. "It comes out of being able to look more honestly at the feelings, look a little deeper inside, articulate things in a broader way." Though his situation and his perspective on some topics may have changed since he wrote them, Denver says when he hears one of his songs, it always takes him back to the point of reference and feeling from which it was written. "Annie's Song" is a great example," he says leaning forward in his seat and smiling. "What the song makes me feel is what I felt when I wrote the song, not all the other stuff. It's a great love song and what it is about is being in love. That's what it makes me think about regardless what happened between me and Annie [Denver's ex-wife]. "When I sing "Annie's Song" and when I hear it, it's about being in love and that's what I think about. I don't think about being in hate or divorce, and see that's why it's such a good song because it brings that out of you. It opens up that inside of you regardless. There was a time when I had a pretty hard shell around my heard in regard to Annie, but I could still sing that song because the song made me think and feel being in love." The thing that caught the listener's ears in the 60s and continues to be Denver's greatest asset as a songwriter is his ability to strike an emotional chord in his audience through simple, direct, clearly expressed feelings brought to life with vivid imagery. In songs as diverse as "Rocky Mountain High," "Calypso" and "Grandma's Feather Bed," Denver not only tells the listener what he's feeling, he takes them to that place with him. A prime example is the short, soaring "The Eagle and The Hawk." As Denver sings "I am the Eagle, I live in high country in rocky though they were swooping and soaring from the peaks. The ability to move people with music is something that Denver is not sure can be taught through seminars and workshops. "I think you can be taught the craft, the technical ability, the rhyme and meter," he says. "You can be taught all that...but I think songwriting is the ability to articulate in a musical way and lyrical way an experience, a feeling, a memory, a vision in such a way that someone else can hear that lyric or listen to that piece of music and have it mean something to them. "I think that's a gift and I don't know that you can learn how to do that. I think you can learn how to more clearly articulate yourself, you can learn how to better communicate your ideas or feelings, but to really be able to sit down and do that is a gift." His advice to others who have that gift and are learning to share it is simple. "Don't try too hard. Don't copy anybody," he states. "Just let it come through you."