38 Drag Queens & Limousines: July 2015

Happy July!

As a gay kid in Baton Rouge, Louisiana in the 1970’s, I had to find my way through adolescence alone. I did not fit in. There was nobody to talk to about how I felt and no one to lean on.

When I reached the age of 13 and girls my age became boy crazy, I began to feel like an alien. I started to worry that I might be gay. It was a thought so shameful I could not utter it for years.

As a little kid, I was a tomboy of the highest order, happiest playing with the boys. I didn’t like to play with girls – they were boring. I never met a doll I didn’t hate. I couldn’t stand sewing, and playing house was out of the question.

So I played tackle football, blew stuff up with blackjack firecrackers, shot snakes with BB guns, played battleship, baseball, basketball, and tackle football with the neighborhood boys, creating childhood memories I still cherish.

Being a tomboy was considered cute when I was young, but when I became a teenager, my existence was outside the norm in my little southern town, and I became desperately confused. I was bewildered by the gender roles that everyone was suddenly embracing like a religion. Ninth-grade girls hung out with girls, and ninth-grade boys hung out with boys. The genders separated suddenly, like Moses in the biblical parting of The Red Sea.

I ended up hanging out with the other outcasts, some gay, others wounded in ways that prevented them from being in the popular crowd, and we forged ahead, as best we could. Mostly, we got high. That led me into a world of hurt, a world that nearly got me killed.

Fast forward 40 years to today. Gay marriage is now legal and lawful in the USA.  This past week was a big week for outsiders like me in America, a big week for those of us who never really expected to live to see the day when our lives would be honored and respected by the law of the land. I celebrate for the kids especially – the next generation of gay kids. I hope they never feel the kind of lonely that I felt 40 years ago. Thank you SCOTUS, you did the right thing. Love Wins!

CLICK HERE TO LISTEN: “Drag Queens In Limousines”


11 Learning to Tell the Truth


Happy Spring!

I’m excited to be teaching new songwriting workshops – Italy in May, and Nashville in June!

I am often asked “Can songwriting really be taught? Isn’t songwriting just a natural-born gift or a talent?”  What I teach, and what I enjoy teaching, is that we writers are called to write primarily because we have something to say that matters.

As most of you know, I did not start writing songs until my early 30’s, though I was trying to write long before that. My early attempts failed for a variety of reasons (primarily my lack of sobriety), but also my lack of confidence.

I didn’t believe that what I had to say mattered. In retrospect, 10 albums and 20 years later, I think this is something most beginning songwriters struggle with.

I got sober in 1990. Soon after that I picked up a guitar and started trying to write songs about how I was feeling. I had time on my hands, PLENTY of time. I did not hang out at bars or parties anymore. I came home to an quiet, empty house every night after work, with nothing to do.

Turns out, this was a good thing. It gave me time to focus on the songs, and keep working on them, making them better and better.

I wrote and wrote and wrote, and started hanging out at the Boston and Cambridge open mics. I watched other beginners struggle on stage, and I watched what worked for them, and what didn’t. People always love great singers and a skilled guitarist is impressive, and those things got applause. But that’s not what I was interested in. Great songs were what I was looking for, and they are hard to find at an open mic.

I took some songwriting classes, but the teachers I found were not right for me and I didn’t learn much because they were teaching about writing hits, which I didn’t care about. I cared about the heart, not the chart. I still do.

So I became a better writer by writing, and playing, and writing, and playing, for years. And paying attention to what connected with people.

And always, connection happened with emotional honesty.

Here’s the answer to the question I posed at the beginning of this discussion: Writing can be taught, if it’s writing for and from the heart. Putting yourself on the line, and revealing what matters to you.

Talent cannot be taught, but courage can be taught.

When I write, and when I teach writing, I use the word courage and truth over and over and over again. These are two essential things that make for great writing.

Hemingway famously said he was trying to “Write one true sentence.” I try to get my students (and myself) to write one true line. Once you finally have that one true line, you can then grow a song out of it. If you do not have that, then you are building your house on sand. I often have to write for hours to get to that true line, but once I get there, I know a good song can grow out of it.

I teach my students to try and locate their own truth-o-meter…get in touch with the place in their gut where they know, and apply it to their songs, line by line.

It gets tricky because songwriting is not journalism. We’re not looking for objective truths in songs. We’re looking for emotional truths that resonate, and sometimes we must lie to get to them.

Picasso said that art is a lie that points to the truth, and if that were not tricky enough, I’d also add that in songwriting we should never let the truth get in the way of a good story.

I cannot teach a student what matters to them, where to find their inspiration, or what to write about. But I can teach a songwriter that their job is to make the listener feel something, and the way to do that is to reveal something that matters in a way that makes them, the songwriter, feel something.

In other words, be vulnerable.

The human heart is the same everywhere you go. People are people are people are people. Once we  truly get this, it becomes clear that to connect we must show listeners our heart, and in that process we writers will also show them theirs. This is teachable, if the student is willing to be brave enough to reveal what most people try to hide.

With our hands shaking and our voices cracking, in my class, we learn to tell the truth.

15 Collaboration & Chemistry


Hello Everyone, and Hello April!

In March I played 16 shows in 15 towns on the East Coast with my friends Allison Moorer and David Wilcox. Every show was like sitting on the front porch, telling stories and swapping songs.

Also, a song I co-wrote with my friend Gretchen Peters called “How You Learn To Live Alone” was performed on the Nashville TV show March 25th in front of millions of people by Jonathan Jackson.

March, for me, was about collaboration. To work with another, cooperating and enjoying the results together, is one of life’s most rewarding experiences. It brings to mind the African proverb, “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.”

I have travelled alone for most of my career. Out of financial necessity, and personal preference. It’s a suitable way to present my songs, and I’ve loved living the life of a solo troubadour. Driving from town to town with a guitar, a harmonica, bar stool, a bottle of water, and a spotlight. Selling CD’s from a little table after the show, meeting people, and talking to them as they walk up to the table. Wake up in a hotel, drive. Then do it again. It’s a good life, and I love it.

But to play in combination with others, swapping songs, stories, jokes, sharing the stage with peers, equals, and other writers has brought me to a new appreciation of the art of stage and song. There’s no boss in these situations, no one has the final say. We all have the final say.

Chemistry is important. This wouldn’t work with just anybody. Mutual respect is vital, as is trust. I’ve chosen the people I want to work with, and I’ve chosen well. The results have brought me great joy. We open the door for magic, for alchemy, for the mystical spark of the divine that makes the show bigger than the sum of the people present.

I am in the business of creating magic. We are looking for communion with the Gods, reaching for that lift-off place where we all ride the waves of music into another world and become one with the song. The ego is at rest. It is an event of the soul, and very difficult to create on stage with other songwriters. When the other performer is so very good that the entire room is silenced and amazed, the result is sheer joy.  As a listener I am in resonance with the singer next to me. Ah, such beauty, and so difficult to create and sustain.

I experienced this resonance with David and Allison night after night, and with Gretchen when we wrote “How You Learn To Live Alone.” And when I watched Jonathan Jackson beautifully perform our song on the Nashville TV show, I thought “wow – the circle is complete.”

With resonance, connection, and joyfulness these days, I am loving this journey!