Steve Dawson's Music Makers & Soul Shakers Podcast

I was honored to be featured on Steve Dawson's "Music Makers and Soul Shakers" Podcast recently. From the website: Steve Dawson, a guitarist/producer from Canada, now living in Nashville, has launched a new podcast entitled “Music Makers and Soul Shakers”. The 5th episode, featuring Mary Gauthier, is now up for free download from iTunes or wherever you get your podcasts from. The show is a longform interview about Mary’s music, history and songwriting process. There’s also a little jam at the end with Steve and Mary playing her song “Last of the Hobo Kings”. Subscribe to the podcast for weekly episodes featuring artists, musicians, producers and more from all over the Americana music spectrum!

In Episode 5, songwriter Mary Gauthier drops by The Henhouse in Nashville for a wide-ranging conversation about her unorthodox path in the music business that didn't start until she was 40! She has had songs on Grammy winning albums, and had them covered by artists as diverse as Jimmy Buffet and Bettye LaVette. Mary has recorded a number of exceptional albums, working with some heavy-hitters in the production world, such as Joe Henry and Gurf Morlix. Her latest album, Trouble and Love is some of her finest work to date. Mary and Steve discuss her songwriting process, how she approaches making records, some of her studio experiences, her new book and some of the hurdles she has overcome to go from being a successful chef and restaurant owner to one of the most respected songwriters of her generation. At the end of the interview, Mary and Steve pick up the guitars and perform her song "Last Of The Hobo Kings".

Click HERE to Listen!

Radio Heartland Studio: 4/16/Songs have always been a way for me to create a connection with people, and I think connections are how we heal.

Click HERE to Listen to my April Radio Heartland Studios Interview and Performance with Mike Pengra on Minnesota's Public Radio. From the Minneapolis Public Radio Website: "Songs have always been a way for me to create a connection with people, and I think connections are how we heal." – Mary Gauthier

“Songs have always been a way for me to create a connection with people, and I think connections are how we heal.”

— Mary Gauthier

I checked off another "Radio Heartland Bucket List Interview" this week when singer-songwriter Mary Gauthier stopped in the studio. Mary's songwriting is legendary amongst her fans and peers for its honesty and grit. Her life story is one filled with chapters about love, loss and courage. She only started songwriting in her mid-30s and has had her songs covered by some of the best folk and country musicians in the industry.

Mary was abandoned at birth and raised in an unhappy home, to say the least. She ran away as a teenager and struggled with her sexual identity and with chemical abuse. She became a gourmet chef after getting a handle on her addiction and finally, she became a songwriter at the age of 35. She writes songs that come from her heart and touch the lives of her listeners.

Her latest album is Trouble and Love from 2014. The record is a journey starting at the end of a relationship and winding its way through the darkness till there's light at the end of the tunnel.

I was lucky enough to sit eight feet in front of Mary when she played … and when she finished, there wasn't a dry eye in the room.

Songs Performed

"Last of the Hobo Kings" "Another Train" "Mercy Now" Song 1 is from Mary Gauthier's 2007 album, Between Daylight and Dark; song 2 is from Gauthier's 2014 album, Trouble and Love; and song 3 appears on Gauthier's 2005 release,Mercy Now.

Hosted and produced by Mike Pengra Engineered by Michael Osborne Photos by Nate Ryan

Finding Emotional Truth: April 2016

Happy Spring!

I’m in the trenches with my book, arm wrestling big ideas, trying to makes sense of them on paper. The chapter I’m working on now deals with the concept of emotional truth, or story truth, as opposed to literal truth. It’s a doozy. Here’s some of what I’ve worked out:

“Extracting the true from the false is at the core of songwriting, and even when the writer works through fantasy and fiction, (and most of us do) emotional truth is the right basis of it. It’s paradoxical, but oftentimes the best way to demonstrate emotional truth is through made up tales. We use melody and metaphor to point to experiences that there are no words for.

Everyone knows fiction is fabrication. But everyone also knows that fiction and falsehood aren’t the same things. Enduring works of literature generate very real emotional experiences that transcend the place and time in which they were written. Ditto songs. Resonance is a sympathetic response, a heartfelt connection, and like stories, songs succeed when we believe them. This heartfelt connection has little to do with facts. When we love a song, we could care less if anything in it ever actually happened. The connection is not based in reason. It’s based in emotion.”

Here's an example of a song I made up, where none of the events happened, but the story is true: Our Lady of the Shooting Stars.

As always, thank you for being a part of my journey. This month I’m headed to Minnesota solo, and then Texas with Eliza Gilkyson and Gretchen Peters as part of the Three Women and the Truth Tour. I will be in New York the last weekend of Aprilwith Dr. Bessel Van Der Kolk to run a trauma healing workshop we’ve named "Trauma: Embodiment, Synchrony and Finding Your Voice" at The Garrison Institute.

I hope to see you down the road! Visit www.marygauthier.com/tour for more details on my upcoming shows. Thank you!

Inspiration In The Rockies: March 2016

Hello Again!

I am on my way back to the Canadian Rockies this week! I am looking forward to performing shows in Alberta this month, including three dates with Sam Baker and one with Eliza Gilkyson.

I have drawn inspiration from this beautiful landscape and creative environment for my book, and am excited about the potential for a new project affiliated with The Banff Centre and friends Sam Baker, Jim White and Minton Sparks.

As I continue to teach songwriting in Banff and collaborate with other great writers in this tremendous setting, I am able to finally put to words some of my most important realizations about the mystery of writing songs.  As a result, my book is starting to take shape now, and is starting to look more like a manuscript than a pile of thoughts that don't connect. Writing a book still feels like writing the longest song ever attempted, but my brain thinks in song, and I'm going with the flow!

Thanks again for following along on my journey and for all of your support and feedback as I explore this new territory. Below is an excerpt from the latest draft of my book. In the meantime, I hope to see you in Alberta this month or down the road this spring and summer!

~~~~~ "Songwriting is an art unto itself, and vision is what’s most important. A basic understanding of craft is necessary, but the art of songwriting is not about mechanics. The art is not about singing, guitar playing, or mastery of any instrument. It’s not about performance, show business, or even entertainment. It’s not about reading or writing music. The art of song is about combining vision, ideas and truth in an effort towards wholeness.

Basic knowledge of music and melody is helpful, but songwriting doesn’t require a music education. Emotional literacy is what matters. There are generations of timeless songs “written” by illiterate songwriters, and brilliant songwriters who don’t play any instruments at all. Irving Berlin, the composer of countless beloved standards couldn't read or write music. He played almost entirely in the key of F-sharp, allowing him to stay on the black keys as much as possible.

At the end of the day, songwriting is conjury. The conjurer is often as mystified as anyone as to where our creations come from. We often can’t explain how we do what we do because we don’t fully understand it ourselves. But in the right mood, with the right frame of mind, there’s a feeling of being an antenna, receiving, then transmitting, receiving, then transmitting. Great songs are more than words and music. Welded together just right, they become emotional electricity.

Songs are music and words glued together with magic. Songwriters apply the glue."

Please visit my Tour Page for all of the details about my upcoming shows in Alberta!

Thank you! - Mary

Snowed In, Nashville Style: February 2016

Hello Friends & Hello February!

I hope you are all staying warm! The Nashville blizzard came at the perfect time for me. Being snowed in provided me an opportunity to focus deeply on rewriting a chapter in my book called The Power and the Glory.

I am closing in on this chapter, and would like to share an excerpt with you:

"I see songwriting as a kind of midwifery. Like children, songs show up knowing who they are. I make choices that influence them, but the songs arrive with personalities of their own. So, if songs are coming from somewhere else, my work is to be a receiver. With lightening rod in hand, I conduct electricity by collecting the flashes of ideas. As I work, I ride the edge between what I know, and what hasn’t happened yet. As I step over that line and create something from nothing, I get the sense that I am co-creating. I do not know what the electricity flowing through me will manifest, or what my efforts at conducting it will light up. Often, it is nothing at all! I am not in charge of the flow. I cannot switch it on or off. All I can do is show up, and direct my focused effort into it, and believe in the process.

Sometimes I sit at my writing desk for hours before I can access the state of mind where I am not “writing”, but instead, I am listening. There is a deep and profound mystery at the core of song creation, a sacred riddle. Each song makes requests of me, through my knowing, my gut, or solar plexus. My job is to remain authentic. It is the third chakra that helps me get rid of my lies. When I write untruths into a song and stray from the path of authenticity, my gut feels it. It senses the falseness and sends me a message to work harder. My job as a songwriter then, is to rid my song of my dishonesty. This is neither simple nor easy - the process is almost always one of discovery. I must work to see what I have not yet seen. Every song is a new beginning, a new life entering the world."

My experience with book writing is much like songwriting. I seem to be following the trail of something that wants to exist in a certain form, and my job is to receive it. As I write a chapter, the chapter becomes ripe and heavy and splits into the next chapter, like fruit falling off a tree. The process is rather amazing!

As always, thank you for being a part of my journey.
~ Mary Gauthier

Songwriting As A Healing Art: January 2016

Happy New Year, and Hello Sweet 2016!

A HUGE THANK YOU to everyone who came out to one of my live shows in 2015, and to all who have supported my efforts along the way! I am grateful for you.

As we turn the corner into 2016, I am already busy working on my book, The Art of the Song. I’m smoothing out sentences, shaping them into paragraphs, and stacking paragraphs into chapters.

It’s starting to feel like I am writing the longest song EVER. Having never written a book, I’m learning as I go. I’m digging down deep into the songwriting process, describing writing as a healing art form and telling stories along the way.

Here are a few excerpts from my initial drafts of the book:

Good songwriting is about telling the truth in an interesting way. It springs from love, hope, and oftentimes desperation. It is about discovery.

Songwriting is an art and a craft, but foremost an art, and artists should not be neutral. An artist should be committed to humanity and emotional honesty, always aiming for truth in their work. A songwriter’s relationship with both the song and the listener is based on trust, and that trust is a sacred bond. Songs are more than just sweet undulations or sale-able entertainment products - they are powerful medicines that serve to connect us to ourselves, to each other, and to something bigger.

Songwriting is one of the healing arts. Songs affect attitude, emotional state, outlook, and way of being. They are vibrations from a higher world, which we humans have been given the power to invoke.

Thank you for being a part of my journey! I will keep you posted as my book unfolds. May this new year be full of truth, discovery, healing and many opportunities to share your authentic voice.

In the meantime, I hope to see you out on the road in 2016!

Sitting in Elvis Presley’s 1963 Rolls Royce

Veteran Jamie Trent and I, in the back of Elvis’ 1963 Rolls Royce! Filmmaker Eugene Jarecki filmed us in the back seat, riding around playing "Bullet Holes," the song we wrote together.

Eugene is making a movie about Elvis and America. We rode around in the old girl for hours being interviewed and playing music!

Working For The Greater Good = Joy

Pictured L to R: Iraq War Combat Veteran Rob Spohr, Iraq War Combat Veteran Josh Geartz, Veteran Airlift Command Volunteer Pilot Joe Bartosiak, SW:S Songwriter Mary Gauthier, SW:S Songwriter James House, Violin Player Kate Lee.

I was honored to perform on the Grand Ole Opry at The Ryman Saturday, November 28th - the night of the Opry's 90th Birthday.

I brought some friends with me, including Combat Veteran Josh Geartz, who fought in The Iraq War and co-wrote "Still On The Ride" with me, and Singer-Songwriter James House, both of whom I met through Songwriting With Soldiers (SW:S).

The fiddle player Kate Lee, the Opry Band and the Opry Singers also joined us onstage. It quickly became a night for the ages.

As I sang the first lines of "Still On The Ride" the room became electrically charged. I could feel people emotionally reacting to the words.

Looking back now, who the hell knows Where the soul of a dead soldier goes

Josh sat stage right and began to play harmonica, and as James and Kate and I sang the words of the first chorus, I felt an even deeper energetic tightening.

I shouldn't be here, you shouldn't be gone But it's not up to me who dies and who carries on I sit in my room, and I close my eyes Me and my guardian angel are still on the ride

The sold out Ryman had converged. Audience, musicians, employees and ushers had become one, mesmerized by the power of Josh's story. I glanced down at the front row, and men were fighting back tears.

James and Kate and I finished singing the second chorus and then KABOOM, the drums and bass came crashing in loud for the solo, raising the hair on the back of my neck and nearly lifting the ceiling off the Ryman.

It was glorious music, expressing the will to live, the urgency of our need to believe, uplifting, defiant, hopeful in the face of trauma and loss.

I looked over at Josh, wireless mic in his hands, harmonica between his lips, and he looked over and smiled at me under his hat. It was a moment I will never forget.

As the last note of the song rang out, the audience jumped to their feet, many with tears on their cheeks. They clapped and cheered, the house lights came on and off, and the clapping and cheering got louder. The band looked at Josh, put their instruments down, stood up and started clapping. I did the same.

It was a classic Opry moment, a sustained standing ovation, a deep acknowledgement of a single Veteran's service, a thank you to all Veterans who serve, and a 90th Birthday Celebration of the greatest long-running musical institution America has ever known.

I snuck out to the gift shop after the first show to try and buy a show poster for Josh, and was immediately swarmed by people who'd seen the performance, many of them Vietnam Veterans. They wanted to thank Josh, thank the Opry, thank Songwriting With Soldiers, and hug me.

I mumbled a few words about gift shop and a poster and suddenly a dozen people were handing me their newly purchased show posters, for me to give to Josh. I accepted one, thanked the person who gave it to me, took some pictures with folks, and made my way backstage to prepare for the second show.

It happened again at the second show - ovation, tears and emotional connection! What a night!

A little taste of heaven on earth: a sense of purpose bigger than us all. Josh kept saying how much he felt like his story could help other Veterans and how much he felt a part of something bigger than himself. That's how we all felt.

Teamwork made this event possible. Songwriting With Soldiers brought us together. Veterans Airlift Command provided free air transportation, flying Josh and fellow SW:S Combat Veteran Rob Spohr to Nashville from New York pro bono, and the Opry opened their arms and graciously worked with us to make the night possible.

In a time when almost all the news on TV is bad, when we are on the verge of new wars, new terror attacks and new threats of all kinds of violence, I am grateful for the power of song to open hearts, and for the power of love to bring us together.

In the end, it's simple really. Working with others for the greater good = Joy.

Click HERE to listen to "Still On The Ride," co-written by Mary Gauthier and Josh Geartz.

On The Air This Week: eTown Podcast, 12/2-12/8

Be sure to visit www.etown.org beginning December 2nd to watch Mary Gauthier's "On The Air This Week" podcast, taped September 27th in front of a live audience in Boulder, Colorado. The podcast will stream on the eTown website until December 8th, will be available on iTunes and will air on over 300 stations.

All photos by Kirsten Cohen.

Learning How To Listen: November 2015

Last week I spent a morning with Josh Gertz and his service dog Coda at the Songwriting With Soldiers Retreat in Rennselaerville, NY. We wrote a song called “Still On The Ride,” which portrays Joshua’s story of loss, perseverance, courage and survival, and his belief in a guardian angel that saved his life. Over the weekend, I also wrote a song with Kevin Reeder and Rudyard Edik, making for a total of three new songs in a day and a half. A privilege, and thrill, and a sacred trust. A huge thank you to the vets for sharing your stories with us. Click HERE to listen to "Still On The Ride."

The soldier’s songs have become a part of me. As I sing them from town to town, each of them resonates a powerful truth: Songs change lives.

An emotionally honest song has the power to wormhole its way deep into the heart. And then, like water on a seed, the heart changes the mind. Souls are reshaped, enlarged, by a simple song. Something new is born. Connections are made. Bridges are built.

At first glance the work seems simple: sit with a veteran, ask them about themselves, and write a song based on what they say. Use their words as the foundation. Listen for a title, encourage them to keep talking until I can discern the emotional bottom line of their story, play a couple of chords that sound like that emotion, come up with verses and a chorus, and then make it rhyme.

But after doing that, something complex happens, and I don’t fully understand it. Something extraordinary enters the room, something bigger than both of us. The song is born in that hallowed place.

It happens fast, and it happens almost in a trance. I barely remember writing these songs. Writing with a veteran is like walking an emotional labyrinth. An exchange takes place in the entanglement. There is soul-to-soul contact.

As I sit and listen to the stories they carry, my chest swells with love. Bearing witness to someone’s story is profound. Truly listening is a magnetic and strange thing, a creative force. Listening compels the real story to come out. There’s nothing else quite like this humbling process. Maybe this is why I love this work so much, because it is teaching me how to truly listen.

A New Book Deal! October 2015

Friends, I am excited to announce that I have signed a book deal with Yale University Press! Steve Wasserman, the Editor of Yale Press, approached me and asked if I would write for them. My answer was a shrill, high-pitched, girly-sounding YES!

We signed the deal last week.

My book will be about songwriting and the creative process, and will take shape as I proceed. I have no master plan. When I write a song, I follow the clues in front of me, as they always take me somewhere.  I’m trusting the same process for book writing. As I head into the deep woods of something I always wanted to do but have never done, I’m doing my best to stay steady. I have a year to complete the project.  I will continue to play weekend shows, work on songs with Veterans through the wonderful Songwriting With Soldiers organization, and teach, but during the week I’ll be at my desk, book writing.

I’m a bit intimidated, a bit terrified, and truly thrilled about this new development in my world! I’ll keep y’all posted.

Folk Festivals & Friends: September 2015

September Greetings! In Denmark last week at the Tonder Festival, I had the privilege of swapping songs with Chris Smither, Butch Hancock, Hans Theessink, JT Van Zandt and Richard Dobson, and I felt right at home in a city I’d never been to before.

As a musician who travels solo most of the time, playing Summer Folk Festivals is a great opportunity to connect with my fellow travelers.

When the road has me worn down, when my body hurts and I can’t even remember what time zone I am in, seeing my musical friends renews me like nothing else.

This summer I played festivals in Norway, Canada, Denmark, and around the US. Performing on the big outdoor stages in front of large audiences is exciting and often amazing, and spending time with my community is food for my soul. I've had a wonderful summer.

The music community seemed so vast and overwhelming when I first got started on the road 15 years ago. I felt like a new kid at a new school, knowing no one, while all the other kids had known each other for years. Now, I’m a grateful member of worldwide tribe of creative artists and musicians.

Connection to community is important to me and becomes more so every year. I never expected that a community of artists would become my life when I became a performing songwriter, but musicians know each other, and form networks, and the networks form a global community. We really are citizens of the world. Swapping songs and stories with my friends has become one of my life’s greatest joys.

JOIN OUR COMMUNITY

I’m offering a songwriting workshop in Nashville on October 1, 2, and 3, if you’d like to come down and get your own full serving of what it feels like to be submerged in group of creative people. We form a tight bond, and the community lives on long after the workshop is over. CLICK HERE FOR DETAILS ON SONGWRITING WORKSHOP

Also, I will be performing with friends at The Americana Festival in Nashville, Tennessee September 16-19th. If you’re in town, come on down to the Country Music Hall of Fame's Ford Theatre Saturday, September 19th at 11:30 am. I will be offering a Songwriter's Session where I will talk about songwriting and playing and will answer your questions. I have a couple of other events during the conference as well. CLICK HERE FOR AMERICANA SCHEDULE

I hope to see you soon! Thank you for being a part of my journey!

Life In The Balance: August 2015

“Well, you’re being very calm about it,” Michele my violin/viola player said, as we stood on stage at our sound check in Calgary, staring down at the empty spot in my guitar case, where my guitar should have been. I was speechless, thinking well, this is a first. I’ve flown my guitar case to Canada, but not my guitar. It was still sitting on the stand, in my music room in Nashville. It was such a huge oversight on my part that it was almost funny.

I’d been in Norway for 4 days before coming to Calgary, in 6 time zones in less than a month, 16 cities in the US and Canada prior to Norway, my knee was killing me from too much driving, and my brain was in a fog.

It took a while for my mistake to become real.

When I was able to speak, I said "Well, ok. Let's figure out what to do." I called the local music store. We headed there quickly before they closed and rented a guitar for my Canadian tour dates.

And I finally got it.  It’s time for me to take a deep breath and relax.

I love my work, and am looking forward to my remaining 2015 tour dates, but later this year I am going to sit back and enjoy some of the fruits of my labor. I plan on doing more yoga, cooking dinners, and savoring some slow days and calm nights, reconnecting with my community, and taking December off. I am working on a book, which I will focus on in early 2016.

Work-life balance is a challenge for most of us, especially when we love our jobs. My choices as to what to do with my time are many, and they are all good options. When almost all of my focus is on my work, even though my job is my passion and I love it, it creates shortages in other areas. My community matters to me, my friends matter to me, my home matters to me, my music matters to me, touring matters to me, teaching matters to me, and working with the veterans matters to me. What a life!

I am certain I am not the only person juggling these questions and hard choices. Forgetting my guitar presented me with an opportunity - to fine tune, to adjust, and to really think about work-life balance. This is a discussion that will most certainly continue, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. How do you keep your life in balance?

Behind The Song: Drag Queens In Limousines

Drag Queens in Limousines (by Mary Gauthier and Crit Harmon)

I hated high school and prayed it would end
The jocks and their girls, it was their world, I didn't fit in
Mama said, "Baby, it's the best school that money can buy
Hold your head up, be strong, c'mon Mary, try."

I stole mama's car on a Sunday and left home for good
Moved in with my friends in the city, in a bad neighborhood
Charles was a dancer he loved the ballet
Kimmy sold pot and read Kerouac and Hemingway.

Drag Queens in Limousines
Nuns in blue jeans
Dreamers with big dreams
All took me in

Charlie and I flipped burgers to cover the rent
And Bourbons at Happy hour for 35 cents
One day before work we got drunk and danced in the rain
They fired us both, They said, "Don't ya'll come back here again."

Drag Queens in Limousines
Nuns in blue jeans
Dreamers with big dreams
All took me in

My dad went to college, and he worked for the state
He never quit nothing and he wanted me to graduate
My brother and sister both play in the marching band
They tell me they miss me, but I know they don't understand.

Sometimes you got do, what you gotta do
And pray that the people you love will catch up with you

Drag Queens in Limousines
Nuns in blue jeans
Dreamers with big dreams
Poets and AWOL marines
Actors and Bar Flies
Writers with Dark Eyes
Drunks that Philosophize
These are my friends

This song came out of half-baked gig in NYC, a gig that ended before it began because nobody came except the two friends whose apartment I was staying at in Manhattan. Yes, it sucked, but my two friends offered to take me out to a New York diner to cheer me up-the night was ours to do with as we wished. They decided to take me to their favorite late night eatery The Midtown Diner, right outside Times Square.

As we approached the diner, I noticed the parking lot that horseshoed around the front of the restaurant was filled with limo’s and black cars. It looked impressive—all those fancy cars lined up and parked there. The chauffeurs were inside, engines running, drinking coffee, some of them eating out of takeout boxes, waiting for their next job. My friends told me they park there because there are not may places to park in NYC, and the restaurant lets them hang out between their fares if they buy something to eat.

We made our way past all the limousines, walked in, sat down, got our menus and ordered coffees. I sank into a bit of a funk, feeling sorry for myself, wondering if or when the tide would turn for me in NYC, if I would ever find an audience in the big city. As I sat there brooding, a door swung open in the back and two drag queens in full makeup, high heels, sparkly dresses and big, big hair strutted in, ordered coffee to go, and stood at the counter, talking loudly and laughing in that loud drag queen “look-at-me” tone. They got their coffee, loaded them with sugar and milk, and walked back through the swinging door, styrofoam cup in hand. All that was left of them when the doors swung shut was their perfume.

No one except me even turned their head to look at them. Turns out the staff and customers were used to drag queens runway-walking through the restaurant, but I wasn’t, and I looked at my friends in amazement. They were New Yorkers, they did not react, and I was beginning to feel pretty small town, sitting there in that booth with my mouth open. I laughed and said, “C’mon guys, isn’t this a little surreal? Don’t you think this is just a little amazing?”

My friends smiled, nodded and said, “This place is great. We love it here—its always Drag Queens and Limousines.”

BINGO! The whole trip to NYC was worth it, just for that moment, hearing those words rang out loud and true to me as a song title. Getting humiliated for a single night in Manhattan was turning into a blessing. The next day I drove back home to Boston where I was living at the time, and started the song.

As I worked on it, “Drag Queens in Limousines” became an autobiographical story song about coming of age as a gay kid in the South. It’s more or less my story, but over the years it’s become an outsider’s anthem. The song speaks to the outsider in all of us, though when I wrote it I had no idea that people of all persuasions from all over the world would relate to feeling like an outsider. Often times when I am singing it I look out into the audience and I see folks who look a whole lot like insiders wholeheartedly relating to the outsider in this song, singing every word. I’ve learned that insiders feel like outsiders sometimes, and high school was hard for an awful lot of people, not just the gay kids.

Songs I write often become my teachers. When I am in Texas, I look out in the audience and I see heterosexual he-man cowboys singing along to this tune. In Scotland I’ve seen middle-aged lorry drivers pump their fists to this tune. In Norway, the Vikings love it. All over the world, over and over again, this song has shown me that I have no idea what’s going on inside a person’s heart, that judging people by how they look is a really bad idea. We all feel outside of something sometimes, and sooner or later we all have to make decisions that are scary, knowing someone we love is not going to see it our way. We all need a group to fit into, a tribe, and no one wants to be alone.

For me, I found acceptance as a young person among those who, like me, did not fit into socially acceptable roles. The artists, gays, rebels, geeks—these were the people with whom I found refuge. They took me in when my family tossed me out, and became my patchwork family early on.

I haven’t changed all that much. Today I am still drawn to the people who break rules, who dare to stand out in a crowd. The people who create something out of nothing, take risks and stand bravely outside the group because they have to, who do it their own way because they have integrity.

This song won me my very first music award—Best Country Song/Best Country Artist GLAMA Award, 1999. I think the Gay and Lesbian American Music Awards created the category in honor of my little homemade self-released Drag Queens In Limousines record, it was the first year for a Country Category at that particular award show. Today, 16 years later, the idea of a gay country artist is still out there. I mean, C’mon, in Nashville, it just ain’t done. But guess what? I came here in 2001, got a publishing deal in 2002, and a major label record deal in 2003. I also got to play the Grand Ole Opry on live television, then again many, many times at the Gaylord Opry House, the first openly gay artist to do so. No closet, no hiding, no apologizing, no kidding, no problem. Nashville, The Opry, Cowboys, Vikings, these are my friends. Isn’t life interesting?

Order a copy of Live at Blue Rock HERE.

P.S.: I made a Video for the It Gets Better Project, using Drag Queens In Limousines as a theme. Find out more about the It Gets Better Project.

Magic at The Cloister of St. Giovanni: June 2015

Hello Again, and Welcome New Friends! “When I put my violin on my body, through it I feel all the stories, all the pains of the Italians, the Americans, the Gypsies, the Jews and many others, all the people that suffered in wars. The songs of the soldiers are a prayer for peace.”

Michele Gazich recently accompanied me on my two-week tour in Italy and Ireland, playing violin and viola on the songs I have written for soldiers as well as some of my recent songs from Trouble & Love. Michele’s viola and violin connected the stories of the soldiers I’ve co-written songs with to the stories of all the soldiers from all the wars – World War I, World War II, and all of the great conflicts throughout history – something I never could have imagined or planned.

During our show in Brescia, Michele’s hometown, we joyfully stood in front of a packed house of several hundred people that beautiful night in late May at The Cloister of St. Giovanni (built in 1505), with an overflow crowd listening outside in the garden.

The Cloister, still beautifully alive with fantastic acoustics and natural reverb (not bad for a 500 year old lady), was full of excitement, heart energy, and love. We played with our hands on fire, with the spirit moving through us, and another world almost within reach. I sang like I have never sung before, feeling each word deeply, then singing the essence of each word and listening as the natural room reverb held the notes longer than I ever could.

Michele’s viola emphasized phrases, added new layers of meaning to the language of the songs, and brought the audience to their feet with the emotion of his playing.

It was one of those nights I may have dared to imagine in my wildest dreams, years ago, when I allowed myself to be brave in my vision. Manifesting our wildest dreams is not about awards or honors, sales or numbers. Manifesting our dreams is about listening to our heart’s desires that necessarily involve love, community, and connection.

My heart’s desire is to connect people with my songs. On this night, the songs – especially the ones I wrote with the veterans - connected us and reminded us we are one.

We want to especially thank all the folks who came out to support us in Europe. Thank you for selling out our shows, and for experiencing this magic with us. We appreciate you so much.

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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.

Behind the Song: Your Sister Cried

(by Fred Eaglesmith) I stared out of the windshield into the rain so light I turned on my dims and somebody flashed me their brights And I reached over and turned the radio way down low Your sister cried all the way home

Lightening crashed and the road shone like a mirror A dog came out of the ditch then he disappeared I remembered a conversation we once had on the phone Your sister cried all the way home

I’ll never know how you got into such a mess

Why do the bridesmaids all have to wear the same dress? Everybody said you looked real good But I think you looked stoned Your sister cried all the way home

This song floored me this first time I heard it, with its brilliant combination of humor and sadness. The dialogue is fantastic; we don’t know who is speaking, or to whom they are talking, but it works perfectly- against all odds. This song is a true rule breaker. It has so much mystery in it!

Who is saying your sister cried all the way home?  Who is the  “your” in your sister? We can’t know, and it doesn’t matter because we are right there with him/her anyway. It could be anyone, a family member a, friend, insert any two people in that car talking to each other and the dialogue words works beautifully. Amazing. Insert yourself into that story, and watch the genius of the writing become become clear. This seemingly simple song is the work of  a master.

Who just got married? Is the bride in trouble, or is it the groom? For that matter, are there two brides? Two grooms? No way to know from the lyrics, but the songs work brilliantly for every scenario you insert. Doesn’t seem possible to wrote a song like this, but Fred Eaglesmith has a way of pulling rabbits out of his hat. Most of us have been to a wedding where we wondered if it was a such a great idea for the couple to be tying the knot, and this song captures that queasy feeling of "I hope I'm wrong about this, but....."

This is brilliant songwriting- a fantastic song. Fred Eaglesmith is a master songwriter and story teller, and if you've not heard his songs before, I encourage you to check him out. His mastery of the craft in undeniable. He has been a mentor to me for over a decade, and I have recorded more of his songs than anyone else's other than my own.

I love this one!

Order a copy of Live at Blue Rock HERE.

Behind the Song: Blood Is Blood

This is a picture of orphaned babies in St. Vincent's from the New Orleans paper, 1962. Such a bizarre thing to call us orphans—our parents were alive and well, just not married to each other, thats all. The truth is that we were not orphans, but we were orphaned. Back then, unmarried women were shamed and often forced by their families into giving their babies away. I am the baby way in the back, the circled baby is my adoptive cousin, adopted at around the same time as me.

Blood Is Blood

(by Mary Gauthier and Crit Harmon)

Clouds are spreading like bruises on the evening sky I walk the streets alone again tonight It starts to rain still I search each passing face Blood is blood and blood don’t wash away Blood is blood and blood don’t wash away

When I was a child they told me she loved me too much She didn’t keep me ‘cause my mama loved me too much She left without a trail she left without a trace But blood is blood and blood don’t wash away Blood is blood and blood don’t wash away

I got a heart that’s ripped I got a soul that’s torn I got a hole in me like I was never born

Blood is thicker than water Blood is bound by God I don’t know who I am I don’t know who I’m not I don’t know my name I can’t find my place

Blood is blood and blood don’t wash away Blood is blood and blood don’t wash away Blood is blood and blood don’t wash away Blood is blood and blood don’t wash away I walk the streets alone again tonight

When I began writing songs I heard a whisper, way in the back of my mind, that someday I’d be called to write a record called The Foundling, and explore in a series of songs what my deepest inner world felt like. Creativity is prescient in that way, it seems to be one step ahead of me at all times, and I’m always just trying to catch up.

My life story was aching to come out of the shadows, and my subconscious was guiding me to it, to begin healing and reconciliation with truth, through my work as a songwriter.

See, I was adopted.

I feared losing my family if I asked my origins. I did not dare ask to ask where I came from. This is not an uncommon fear among adoptees. Many of us decide wait till our adoptive parents are dead to search for our original families, our original identities. The fear of losing our adoptive family, and of appearing ungrateful or disloyal keeps us from searching earlier, from asking hard questions.

But my subconscious was busy trying to help me put the pieces of my fractured past together as best it could. I needed to claim my truth to fully grow up, to be a whole, integrated person, to become truly real—and let go of the weight of not knowing, walk lighter, and be useful to others.

As hard as it is to explain, I deeply believe in this mysterious impulse for the mind to heal itself. Following it has led me down beautifully twisted roads, led me to the songs I sing, and given me this creative life I love so much.

As hard as it is to believe, the truth of own story was not available to me until I wrote the songs on The Foundling. Writing helped me make sense of things that had haunted me from the day I was born.

It took me a decade as a songwriter before I was able to tackle this project. It took me another two years of focused writing to complete the songs. It was by far the hardest work I’ve ever done as an artist—hard emotionally, physically and spiritually. I had to come face to face with some damn scary monsters. I had to make myself sit at my desk for 10 to 12 hours at a time, week after week. I had to research trauma, childhood trauma, and adoption trauma, and come face to face with my own denial of the effects of what had happened. But the inner work I was doing in therapy coincided with the work I was doing as an artist, and The Foundling songs crept up and out, cracking the floorboards of my fear, one at a time. I kept walking, and writing.

The truth of my life and the truth in my work collided.

What I learned was that my relinquishment by my birth mother on the day I was born, my year-long stay at the orphanage on Magazine Street in New Orleans, and my subsequent adoption into a family I never fully attached to were all traumatic events. And trauma needs to be dealt with.

The time was right for me to put the pieces together, as I wrote The Foundling song cycle I began to heal from the inside out—a classic case of art healing the artist. I look back on it now and wonder how I did it, or rather, how it did me. The mystery remains intact, even as I try now to explain.

The song “Blood Is Blood” is the centerpiece of The Founding cycle. It vibrates with the intensity and angst of an adoptee in full-blown identity crisis. Using John Lennon’s Mother as a guide, I let the muse walk me to the edge of my knowing till I faced the abyss, the dropping off place—the place I’d tried to avoid for 46 years.

With the muse guiding me, John Lennon’s courage encouraging me, my work in many years of therapy steering me, and my adoptee friends holding me, I found the strength to face what happened when my mother left me behind forever, on that frightful day, the day I was born.

Seeing it, knowing it, becoming aware of it, owning it—this is where all healing truly starts. And after a while, telling it moves the healing outward.

This song started with a couple of lines and a melody sent to me by my co-writer. Both the title and the repeated riff were in the clip he sent me, and I knew something great was there when I heard it. I just needed to carry it home.

I’d been reading a lot of books on adoption and trauma, and had become saturated in the work of Betty Jean Lifton, who to this day is my favorite writer on the psychology of adoption. BJ was an adoptee herself, a brilliant thinker and writer, and married to Robert J Lifton, Professor of Psychiatry at both Harvard and Yale, and the foremost expert on the psychological effects of war. He is the author of several groundbreaking books on the subject, including The Nazi Doctors.

Robert championed BJ as she did her own groundbreaking work on adoption trauma, and to this day her work on the psychology of adoption remains unsurpassed. She is an adoption reform hero, and I never could have written The Foundling without her. I got to meet her once when she came to a show I played at Joe’s Pub in NYC with the songwriter and fellow adoptee Diana Jones, who was her close friend. It was an honor to hug BJ Lifton—she was a kind, beautiful, brave and brilliant woman.

In addition to her work on adoption, she wrote many other wonderful books, including The King of Children, a biography of Janusz Korzack, the Heroic Polish Jewish Doctor who ran an orphanage during the war, and died with his orphans at the hands of the Nazis at the Treblinka extermination camp.

The song “Blood Is Blood” tells the story of the existential hole left inside of an adoptee after the loss of original family and heritage to the crucible of closed adoption. This loss is traumatic, but it is not yet generally understood. Often times, we adoptees don’t even know the loss/trauma is there because of a split in our psyche’s that shuts us out of entire rooms in our brains. Trauma is fundamental in adoption (especially closed adoptions where adoptees are given no knowledge of their heritage), but we’re just beginning to understand the ramifications of it. Certainly there is a direct link between childhood trauma and addiction as well as a variety of attachment disorders and other struggles, but we are in the infancy of understanding how this all plays out.

“Blood Is Blood” is both my story, and the story of closed adoption, an in-your-face song railing against the pain, secrets and lies of closed adoption. I’d say it’s probably the angriest and most angst-ridden song I’ve ever written.

It amazes me that in America, to this day, adoptees by the millions are denied access to our own original birth certificates. In fact, whenI was writing this song in 2014, only 6 states had opened or partially opened birth records. Think about that! Millions of adopted adults in America are denied access to our own birth certificates. They are sealed documents, locked away from us forever in the name of protecting us from…our identity?

I was told as a child that my mother loved me so much that she gave me away. I was told she “loved me too much to keep me.” A child cannot make sense of this, but even as an adult it makes my head swim. Loved me too much to keep me? I know my parents were trying to tell me that my mother could not care for me for reasons we never got in to, that she was so unselfish and generous that she gave me away so that I might be better cared for. The problem with this (aside from the fact that it’s probably not true) is that it forever equates love with abandonment, and the fear of abandonment has haunted me my entire life.

The antiquated laws that permanently seal birth certificates desperately need to be overturned, but the going is slow and the opposition is well funded. The fight for truth and justice in this arena continues. I hope this song helps, somehow. It sure helped me.

Order a copy of Live at Blue Rock HERE.

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 25^th 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!

Seeing Trauma In A New Light

In February I spent a week in sunny Big Sur, California working with Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, the author of NY Times Bestseller, The Body Keeps The Score. Bessel is one of the nation's most experienced physicians in the field of healing emotional trauma. His book moved me deeply, and I jumped on the chance to work with him in a small group. The week I spent with him deepened my understanding of the brain and of myself, and gave me a language for things I never had words for before. Many of you know that I spent my first year in an orphanage, and when I was adopted, I struggled with attachment. Maintaining connection has always been hard work for me, and continues to be. Now I have a better understanding of why it's been hard. Trauma.

“The whole function of our brain is to be in sync with each other.” – The Body Keeps The Score, Dr. Bessel van der Kolk

Trauma, at its core, is about disconnection. It’s the breaking of human bonds - physical, emotional and psychological. Childhood trauma is especially damaging, and when we’re not able to form healthy bonds with our parents or caretakers at an early age we often seek out connection in self destructive ways.

The hurt I felt as a child followed me down the road into adulthood. I was seeking connection but I found addiction. I found more trauma. I didn’t know how to trust my own perceptions. I wasn’t safe. It was a vicious cycle.

"Traumatized people are drawn to traumatizing things. It’s where they feel alive. Adapting to trauma, we learn to not know what we know, feel what we feel."

Bingo. I knew this, but I guess I needed a world famous trauma doctor to validate it. For most of my life, I couldn’t know what I knew, see what I saw, or feel what I felt. In many ways, I was blind. I’ve written song after song about this, trying to make sense of it. Dr. van der Kolk taught me about connection, resonance, identification, and synchronization. He explained why I am my happiest when I am connected to people (it's what mammals are programmed to do), how trauma creates a disconnect, and what is currently known about how to heal this disconnection.

Bessel gave me a magnificent, clear understanding of trauma and its effects, free of blame or shame, free of psychobabble, or confusion. The driving force behind my songwriting, and my teaching is truth-telling, and my work as a songwriter has been a huge part of my own healing, that I might fully see what I see, know what I know and truly love who and what I love. Bessel said it probably saved my life. Looking back now, I think he is right.

If my words here are hitting home, get Bessel's book.

The Body Keeps The Score is destined to become a game changer - a book that will fundamentally change the way we look at the world. It's truly that good.