if you’re paying close attention to this newsletter, and i hope you are, you’ll notice that it’s been a month rather than the regular two weeks since the last essay episode. my apologies. covid really kicked my ass. it kicked it acutely for about 10 days, then softly but persistently for another several weeks.
for those of you that have had it, especially this latest version, this is familiar territory. i suppose i should be grateful to have been so routinely surprised by the variation in symptoms. summer can be so boring, you know. the endless days of pleasant weather, the slow down of work, the uptick in delightful social events. all that can really be a drag. thank god i had covid to keep me on my toes while laying on my back.
all that said, i am thankfully on the other side, sitting on my porch writing while we get a much needed summer rain. carl is lounging at my feet, which is better than when he steps on my feet. he is so huge now that it is truly excruciating when he drops his paws on my tender tarsals. his big news is that at nine months old, he has embraced his genetic destiny and now swims and retrieves. who knew that something as simple as watching your pup paddle out for a bumper could be so joyful?
i am reminded of a line from “miss you like hell”. looking out over the gorgeous vista of yellowstone’s hayden valley, beatriz declares that she isn’t leaving this spot, this moment, ever.
“she was last seen roaming with the wild bison,” she declares.
same, girl, same. if you need me, i was last seen playing with swimming, fetching, happy dogs in a glorious western massachusetts summer.
carl and his best friend eleven in their happy place, which is also my happy place.
and yet, the online world beckons and offers a path forward for creativity and public output. in that spirit, i resume our regularly scheduled broadcasts.
today’s audio is a cover of “divided by 13”, one of my favorite songs written by one of my favorite songwriters, matt the electrician.
i first met matt in… lord, i couldn’t tell you. maybe twenty years ago, in that way that you arrive to start your career with a certain cohort of peers. we’ve always been doing the same gigs around the same time as each other, sharing bills at clubs, festivals, and house concerts. the more time passes, the more i am grateful for these musical litter-mates. they truly make the long haul worth it.
in 2014, i joined matt’s long-running songwriting group, which i have written about here many times. besides matt’s amazing songs and charming performance style, i am consistently inspired by his commitment to writing. he never misses a week in our group, always turning in something for every prompt. i myself am a sporadic participant. i usually dip in once or twice a year for something like 10-12 weeks. but matt is there every week, with something wonderful.
my experience in matt’s game has led me to codify what i think is my most important creative and teaching principle: SONGS ARE NOT PRECIOUS. what i mean by this is that you can make a song and feel good about it, but you should not fall in love with that song. you shouldn’t obsessively hammer at it if it’s finished. or pick at it if it’s not finished. or text it incessantly when it has asked for space. you should not put any one song of yours up on a shelf in your heart and say “this is the one”. because then you will never make another song. you will never love again. your writing arteries will narrow and harden, a creative atherosclerosis that will lead your heart to weaken.
so you make a song, you make another song. over the years you end up with a lot of songs. some may be better than others. you may like some more than others. audiences may like some more than others. these can be different songs. i might argue that they should be. you and your audience should be in a playful tension over catalogue and canon and setlist. it keeps everyone on their toes. and the only way this happens is to keep writing and stop being precious.
hey yall - just popping in to say thanks for listening, and i’ve got a few new shows up on the tour page. i’ll be in the Catskills next month trying out some new jokes. we’ve got our rescheduled central Massachusetts hiking show in september. carl will be joining us! and there are two exciting productions of Miss You Like Hell announced for 2023 in San Jose and Seattle. go see some music outside or mask up and join us inside. everything you need to know is listed at erinmckeown.com/shows.
earlier this spring, a friend of matt’s surreptitiously emailed folks from the songwriting group and invited us to cover our favorite matt song for a surprise 50th birthday playlist. our performances of his own songs would be the gift. i instantly knew i needed to cover “divided by 13”.
i want to digress for a moment and say that i am about to turn 45 and now is the time for you to start planning this for me. my true dream would be to have all the awesome writers and singers i know perform my songs, professionally record them, and then release it as an album to raise money for something. but if that’s too much work, just surprise me with a private playlist. you should start organizing now. artists are notorious procrastinators.
back to matt! one of the things i have always loved about matt’s music is its playfulness and light touch that turns into something profound. he tickles you with a smart feather than socks you in the gut with a human truth.
“divided by 13” first caught my ear years and years ago because of the melody. boy do i love a leaping falsetto melody. especially one that takes something as prosaic as math and turns it on its head. it’s clever, but it is also tender, and damn fun to sing.
a newer member of the songwriting group is my friend jocie adams. i first met jocie in providence as a member of the low anthem. several years ago, she brought her new project, arc iris, to western mass to play at my favorite restaurant, the ashfield lakehouse, which has sadly crossed the rainbow bridge of too-good-to-last scenes.
the night arc iris played, jocie and her bandmates turned our humble pub inside out with a synth-heavy prog-rock fantasia of sound and light. i’m not sure i have ever been to a more epic show in a less epic space. my friend kris delmhorst, another song group stalwart, was there, and we kept looking at each other like “holy fuck this is unbelievable”. i surfed that wave of euphoria for a long time after.
right after the call went out to cover matt’s songs, jocie messaged me and suggested we collaborate. so i took a pass at the song, sent it, she added to it, sent it back. it was quick and dirty, and despite my best intentions that songs are not precious, i am a little in love with this recording. similar to me starting the violin, jocie has been diving into clarinet, and she just kills it on this track.
last week the prompt for our group was “summer school”, and i made a song that i really really like. now i am on the precipice of something dangerous. i am getting a little precious about this song. the game works best for me when i spend as little time as possible on the song, sitting down for an hour at most, scribbling and scrabbling then sending in a crappy voice memo and moving on. i never listen to the song for weeks or even again, before occasionally resurrecting one when it has long lost that immediate crushability.
getting precious.
my first mistake last week was to make a demo of the song in logic, the computer program i use to professionally record and orchestrate my songs. i was driving and thought of a harmony for a particularly satisfying part of the song and wanted to hear how it would sound. this was my second mistake, thinking about how the song might be with more than one voice.
now i can’t stop listening to the demo with its sketch of a beat and multiple harmonies. it’s not perfect, but it’s got potential. and each time i listen, i get a little more excited, but also a little less willing to make the song better. i can feel my arteries hardening as i get used to how it sounds at this stage. my third mistake is i have a home in mind for it already, a project that i am working on but might never show you. it’s a project i am excited about, and as it’s coming into focus i can’t shake the thrill that this song shows me the map of how to move forward.
and then, thank god, saturday morning comes and along with it a new email from matt. after thanking everyone for their recent songs, he threw down the gauntlet of a new prompt for this week’s game, due friday at midnight. now, i no longer have time to be precious about last week’s song because i’ve got this week’s one to write.
falling in love is dangerous. this is also one of my core teachings. good things and bad things can come from love, but they are all dangerous. your heart can get broken, you can fall into a comfortable rut, you can grow from the pain, but sometimes the pain doesn’t heal. falling in love with songs is especially dangerous because if the love doesn’t work out, which it often does not, you still have the song around. a scar, a memory, a ghost.
as long as everyone is consenting to the danger, go ahead, fall in love at your own peril. but for me, i love so hard and so fast that i need a guardrail. for people or for music. so i’ll close by offering this admonishment to myself, which you might find useful too:
stay in love with the work of other artists, like matt or jocie, but never fall in love with your own.
x erin
¡ME GUSTA! : SOME OF MY FAVORITE THINGS!
like many small fry of the 80s, i was obsessed with Misty Of Chincoteague. i was lucky enough to live within easy driving distance of virginia’s eastern shore, where at age 8, i spent a blissful family vacation becoming a Junior Park Ranger on Assateague Island. check out what those awesome park rangers are up to now.
for probably obvious reasons (ie, as i contemplate my own changing career), i am obsessed with athletic retirement stories. the kind of tales where relatively young and healthy (compared to the rest of us) folks hang it up and walk away. here’s a very good pod series about one of my favorites, former colt’s QB andrew luck.
first it was baby formula, then tampons, NOW IT’S SRIRACHA!!! what is this hellscape we call life.
speaking of hellscapes. or just idiots.
one of my favorite twitter follows, journalist keri blakinger, has written a beautiful memoir.
the history of monopoly you didn’t know.
mavis staples is a treasure and a living blessing. all hail.
i am proud to call debbie millman my friend, especially so after she wrote this devastating and honest piece about sexual abuse and abortion rights.
i am here for every quinta brunson profile.
what were you doing in november of 1998? i was likely eating ramen in my college co-op and obsessively listening to lauryn hill’s “that thing”.
a unique and very true exploration of the connections between sober-influencers, “dry-january”, and actual 12 step recovery.
i love sound! i think about it often. but i will never watch / listen to a movie the same way after this magnificent article about foley artists.
UPCOMING SHOWS
Aug 13 - Delhi NY
Andes Hotel - Outdoors
FREE
Aug 27 Goshen MA
Lady & The Amp Festival - Outdoors
TICKETS
Sep 10 - Ashburnham MA - RESCHEDULE!!
Scenic Songs: A Hiking Concert
TICKETS
Oct 30 - Cambridge MA
Atwood’s
TICKETS
***
Nov 10 - 19 - Wilkes-Barre PA
Miss You Like Hell at King’s College
MORE INFO
Nov 17 - 21 - Richmond VA
Miss You Like Hell at University of Richmond
MORE INFO
LOOKING AHEAD TO 2023
Jan 19 - Feb 19 - San Jose CA
Miss You Like Hell at City Lights
MORE INFO
Oct 14 - Nov 11 - Seattle WA
Miss You Like Hell at Strawberry Theatre
MORE INFO
If you have further questions or concerns about COVID protocols, please contact the venues directly.
Reminder, Erin does not appear in productions of Miss You Like Hell
falling in love is dangerous...