Connecting the Dots

I attended my second Durango Songwriter’s Expo this past weekend (it takes place in nearby Broomfield, CO despite its name), and left feeling in awe of the level of talent I experienced, and also more inspired than ever as a songwriter.

This industry event has been happening for 23 years, and brings together aspiring musicians of various levels of experience with industry pros like record label executives, high-end artist managers, and music supervisors - whose job is to “sync” music with ads, scenes in movies and tv shows, video games, etc. These industry folks not only speak on the panels during the day on topics such as music publishing and sync-licensing, but they are also at the head table during the all-important “listening sessions.”

Listening sessions are intense, and as a songwriter, you get a total of three during the weekend. There are two types of sessions - one is for Sync Licensing, to get feedback on whether or not your songs could be used in the media mentioned above - and the other is to get feedback on your songwriting and/or production quality if you like. During these sessions, you are in a room full of roughly 20 other songwriters all waiting their turn, which consists of 5 total min of attention. During those minutes, you present your two listeners (sometimes hit songwriters, label execs, big time producers, A&R folks etc.) with your chosen lyrics, before playing your recorded song(s) for 2-3 minutes. Then they use the last 2 minutes to share what they thought of your songs, again, in front of a room full of other songwriters.

It can be an emotional roller coaster for sure. Last year (my first), I chose to play three different songs at my three different sessions, getting as much feedback as I could as a songwriter. The first one left me feeling elated, before the second and third kicked my ass. One quote from a producer was “….so you’ve basically just got some stuff and a chorus.” Ouch. Fun times. But he was also right, or at least I knew what he meant. And it made me want to write better songs, which is the whole point.

One thing that made last year’s feedback difficult is that I played songs I had already mastered, so it was nearly impossible to incorporate their feedback. This year I was smart (I thought) and brought demos from the album I have in the works. That worked well for the songwriting feedback sessions, but I realized that the Sync people can really only conceive of viable song placement when they hear a mastered product. Lesson learned. What I also learned about the Sync world is that if you are writing decent music, and it’s well produced, it’s “sync-able,” meaning, there’s a legitimate place for it to land somewhere in the ty/movie/advertisement/video game sphere. The trick of course is getting in the room with music supervisors, getting your music listened to. And of course, like anything else in the world, it’s all about relationships.

Warren Sellers is a songwriting mentor of mine, and one of the “feedback givers” from Durango. He referenced the paper menu he used to get as a kid at a restaurant, complete with a maze and a connect-the-dots activity. In that game, any one or two links don’t really mean anything significant, at least they don't seem to. And they certainly don’t give a clear sense of the picture. But if you keep going, connecting one dot to the next, taking the next right step, a form begins to emerge. Perhaps hazy at first, but soon there’s a dawning “oh yeah” that happens when you realize that you’ve drawn a lion or a flower. Warren used that analogy for a life in the music business, slowly connecting dots with a variety of conferences, conversations, gigs, songs, blogs, emails, all of it slowly become more and more discernible as a life in the music business. I love that metaphor and have referenced it several times since I first heard it. Also feels like it needs to be a song, if it isn’t already.

I’ve been “at this” professional musician thing for more than 25 years, and I must say, I’m starting to get a clearer sense of the shape I’m making by connecting these dots. I’m going to have an empty next in the next year, and that’s got me dreaming about things like going on extended tour in beautiful parts of the world. Since I see all my therapy clients remotely, anything is possible. And there is nowhere on the planet without space for new songs, thank goodness.

Stay tuned, my friends. Lots of exciting things happening.

Expanding the Circle

When I released my first album in 2009, I was living up in Summit County near Breckenridge. I felt a part of the community after living and working there for the past six years, and I was pleased to receive a write-up on the album release party in the local paper. The release party itself was a hit - nearly sold-out, standing ovation, and I was just certain that I was well on my way to achieving mythic rockstar status.

Fast-forward fourteen years and three more albums later, and I laugh at what a “rising star” I am still considered in the Colorado music community. Ok, fine. So I haven’t played Red Rocks yet. Or the Fillmore or the Gothic, or even Boulder’s Fox Theater. And while I am reticent to admit it, I used to spend a fair amount of time focused on that list of theaters I had not yet played instead of focusing on and feeling ever so grateful for every wonderful venue I have indeed played, and there have been many.

But I learn as I go, and this being human thing continues to be interesting to me. Of course I still dream of playing Red Rocks, and touring with Gregory Alan Isakov or Hozier. But the thing I’ve been realizing lately is that it’s the connections I’m making in my own back yard that matter most to me.

In the past year I joined a group of songwriters who came together from all walks of life and with a wide range of both years on the planet as well as hours in the saddle, so to speak. Some were just learning their instruments, others were working on their sixth album. The group has pushed me to write at least one new song per month, where we then get together and share what we’ve written, giving and receiving feedback.

I have certainly grown as a songwriter, and I’m enjoying being the gray-haired member of the group, and dispensing whatever passes for wisdom to these up-and-coming songwriters on the Boulder scene. From Megan Burtt and Joel Ansett to Anna Cutler and Pamela Machala, the Colorado songwriter scene is vibrant and evolving quickly. Two of those four are playing a wondering MXMENTS show in Denver tomorrow, and that’s where you can find me.

In the meantime, I’ll be busy focusing on those things I’d like to grow. I’m building wider circles, meeting more songwriters, honing my craft, and working my way one step at a time to Red Rocks.

The Thing About Thailand

Thailand had been a bucket list destination for many years, and after finally taking the chance to visit in December, I am here to report that it did not disappoint. Many of the people I know who have spent time in Thailand have been to one, two, or three of the following: Bangkok, Chiang Mai, and Phuket. I was fortunate enough to see all three, and loved them each for various reasons.

The temples and palaces of Bangkok were stunning, the food was delicious and ridiculously affordable, and certain sections of town lived up to the hype I had in my mind from movies and books. Chiang Mai is in the mountains, and the lushness and fresh air were magical. We visited an elephant hospital where they have developed prosthetic limbs for poor elephants who stepped on land mines in nearby Laos and Cambodia. A wonderful meal for two, plus coffee, appetizer and tip was less than twenty bucks, and an hour-long massage was 6. Even better, the massage was delivered by a very skilled woman who is an inmate at the local prison and works in a special rehab program to deliver usable skills prior to their release. I also spent an hour talking with a Buddhist monk about his daily life, and thoughts on the world. It was fascinating.

The third stop in Phuket was glorious and included some of the world’s premier beaches. Turquoise water, velvet sand, stunning snorkeling and a higher cost of living as one might expect in a resort-type Island. So the tour was incredible, and I most certainly plan on returning. But here’s the think about Thailand - the best part happened to be the people.

The country is 94% Buddhist, and given the culture I just described, literally every Thai person I came into contact over the course of my stay felt to me like they had either just gotten done meditating, or getting a massage, or both. And they probably had! As a culture, Buddhists often start and end their day “on the cushion” as it were, tuning in through a daily meditation practice. The impact of this on a communal level is palpable and wondrous to me.

The best example of what this translates into on a day-to-day basis was the navigation of traffic. The typical roadway is full of 40% vehicles, 60% scooters. And while there are things like stop signs and traffic signals, these are often more implied than strictly observed. But it’s like being in the ocean and watching different schools of fish merge and flow. You simply turn when there’s an opening, and if that person in front of you pulls over to talk to that woman on the sidewalk, no problem, we just shift over and keep going. And that person next to you who also has to shift over to make space? No problem. He saw it coming too and everyone is just fine about it all. No one is angry, or honking, or reaching for their weapons. We are all in this together, just making our way down the street. What a concept.

My dear therapist friend remarked, “It sounds like everyone in Thailand has a regulated nervous system.” Bingo. It is a deep joy to be around a bunch of grounded, tuned-in, joyful, content people. Perhaps it’s because they’re the only country in the region to avoid colonization. Or because they are a more homogeneous society, versus America’s melting pot.

Whatever the reasons, Thailand just skyrocketed up the list of my favorite places on the planet. And for now, I’m doing my work to keep myself regulated and tuned in, leaving my car horn alone.