“Fortune and fame’s such a curious game. Perfect strangers can call you by name. Pay good money to hear Fire and Rain Again and again and again. Some are like summer coming back every year, Got your baby, got your blanket Got your bucket of beer. I break into a grin from ear to ear And suddenly it’s perfectly clear. That’s why I’m here.”
One of my faves James Taylor wrote this 35 years ago. He had an epiphany about his purpose on the planet. He spent years working on his career to the detriment of everything else around him, constantly fighting against the legacy of incredible music he had created to focus on the music to come. After a slew of personal tragedy, he realized the simplicity of his existence. His main job was to entertain, to enlighten, to relieve the burden of everyday life from the world – if only for the 2 hours he played. People “paid good money to hear “Fire and Rain again and again and again”. So that’s what he would do. He said himself that he hasn’t been the same since.
I’m taking my lead from old JT.
I’ve been very reflective the past few weeks. A lot has gone on. And through it all, something became very clear to me. My Mom always said to her children that the only way to guarantee a legacy is to positively influence at least one person. Of course, like everything else in life, the gravity of this statement never really occurred to me until I got much older. I always doubted this about myself. I always felt like a bit of an imposter – that people’s expectations of me were far higher than I could ever achieve. But recent events have since brought me to the realization that I have left a positive mark on this earth – no matter how small – and that focusing on those things will lead me to a fulfilled future. So I am taking it seriously.
A lot of you will have noticed that I have doubled down on promotion the past few weeks. I know it may seem self-serving, but the reason is plain. I have been very lucky in my life, and I am profoundly grateful. It’s time for me to focus on using that gratitude to ramp up my ability to make positive change – whether through business podcasts, mental health advocacy, or other creative endeavours. It’s become very clear that – just like JT – that’s why I’m here.
So here’s my new FB Page, which will allow me a better audience reach to help me facilitate that change. It will also allow me to keep my personal profile a little more private because who the fuck wants to take the chance of being hacked again lol.
I’m hoping you will all like this new page and follow me as I try to make a difference. I can’t guarantee success, but I can assure you that we will have an amazing time trying 😊
So I have a FB friend who today posted about the poor 13 year old girl in Brampton who died with COVID. The young lady who died was overweight, so of course that gives anyone the right to blame her for her predicament.
My friend is a “Fitness Professional”, and she posted that her heart goes out to the people who cannot control their health during these times. But for the people who CAN (ie fat 13 year old girls and people like me) control their health or at least some elements of it, success and getting more of us out of this pandemic healthy is up to us. She looked at a picture of the girl and said that it was easy enough to see that this poor girl was extremely overweight for her age, and this was probably the primary factor in the severity of her body’s response to getting COVID-19.
I like this FB friend of mine. I think the world of her. But I am so fucking livid right now I cannot see straight.
This is one of the most ridiculous and self-serving posts I have seen on FB in the past little while. And that says a lot. As a person that has dealt with the physical and psychological issues behind weight issues for upwards of 50 years, I can tell you that dealing with these challenges is not corrected by simply taking a walk and trying to change your eating habits. Make that 10-fold for a teenage girl. How did she diagnose this as a death contributor? By looking at a picture??? Did she get a detailed family history? Did she talk to her doctor? Of course not. And yet she has no problems getting up on Social Media and giving us her completely unfounded opinion on why this poor girl died.
I am really fucking tired of self-labeled “Fitness Professionals” pretending they are educated in all things weight related and proceed to regale us fatties with how we need to just “buckle down” and “just exercise” or “just eat properly” as if it was something we just completely overlooked. This is a battle, darling – one that has occupied most of our lives and where we have had to endure people like you treating it like a common cold that I can treat. You are providing no useful service to anyone with this. Quite the opposite. This is a shameful, uneducated post from an educated person, and that is the most disappointing element of all.
Let me save other “Fitness Professionals” a bit of time here, by posting some helpful guidelines from the people you think you are helping with these posts.
There is not a person in the first world that is not aware of the health effects of obesity. We get it, believe me. We are not ignoring you. Regularly posting things that everyone knows just makes you look weird.
We have had to live our entire lives with this. Society has its own sort of perception of people like me – we are disgusting, fat, slothful, lazy, incompetent, stupid. By being so visible and taking up so much room, in a strange way we are also quite invisible. People kind of clock you and their eyes slide off you. I feel bullied, slighted and ridiculed. Being judged firstly and continuously by the way we look, as if we all set our minds to being fat, and despite our body’s every effort to stay thin we kept fattening ourselves up because it just looked like so much goddam fun. You telling us that it’s as easy as eating right and exercising conveniently reduces our struggle to a mere oversight on our part. If it was that fucking easy everyone would be thin because believe me, being fat is not the choice you seem to think it is.
Even though it may not look like it to you, we are trying. We have never wished for anything harder. There are any number of physical, genetic, biological and – god help us – psychological elements to obesity that you will never understand, because if you did, you would not be acting the way you are.
Society approved people get the privilege of dignity by default; fat people must earn that dignity, as I once tried to, years ago ― running on the treadmill until my knees ached, swimming, dieting – literally everything – until I said that this circular hell of calories-in, calories-out wasn’t worth risking my safety or my sanity.
I am the luckiest of all fat people. I can make you laugh. I am the jolly fatty. I am a decent musician and can entertain people. And I am grateful for all of that because if I couldn’t do any of those things all people would have ever seen is my fatness. I am not going to shroud any of this in kindness though I probably should. I am far too angry. I am, however, hoping that the next time a “Fitness Professional” decides to ply their delightful demonization of fat people out in public, that they think about this post and remember that I told them to go fuck themselves.
When I turned 36 in 2003, I wrote this brief blog on my family website rismania.com:
“I’m so bald. And fat. I shouldn’t have skipped so many classes in high school. I shouldn’t have listened to my friend Corey when he dared me to jump in that river when I was 18 – my ankle wouldn’t be bothering me so much. I definitely shouldn’t have smoked so much dope and dropped so much acid in college. I should have listened to my mom more. I shouldn’t let the little things get to me so much. I should be much more bothered by the big stuff. If I would have taken a few risks in my life I’d be rich and famous now without a doubt. I’m a coward. I took the easy way out so many times. I come across much more confident than I am. I’m an imposter.
In a little more than an hour I’ll be 36. How the fuck did this happen to me? In a little more than an hour I’ll be 36. How the fuck did this happen to me?
Maybe if I keep talking it will sink in. But I doubt it.
You know what I notice about being 36? You’re smack in the middle of everyone. 20-somethings look at you with pity and foreboding (“DUDE – you are wicked old! Is that your skin falling down your face?”) and those older than you regale you with a patronizing “You think 36 is old? You’re a pup!”. Like these idiots know anything about my life or what has brought me here. Frigging 40ish idiots. I will be you someday.
At 36 you’re at that point that getting out of a chair is starting to elicit small yet audible moans. When you’re 36 and you catch a glimpse of the on-air talent at MTV for a second while channel surfing you’re suddenly overcome with an awful sense of dread and fear of who will be running the country in your old age.
Its 36 years gone. Just like that. At the speed of light. In the next 36 years I will very likely be dead. Just like that. At the speed of light.
Happy Birthday to me.”
I seem to be a little pissed off about 36. I’m not entirely sure why. I know that likely I was just trying to be funny, but there is definitely a subtext to this that has given me a serious WTF moment. As I turn 50 years old tomorrow, I cannot even remotely relate to this anymore.
I wrote this 14 years ago – literally almost to the minute. What has changed? Why was I so tangibly angry about turning 36? I had two amazing children and a wonderful fulfilling life partner. Those things were awesome. What could be wrong?
Fourteen years ago I was working for someone else. I was not happy. Every day was a struggle with very little satisfaction – monetary or emotional. Money had never really been a driving force for me in anything I did, but doing something I enjoyed was critical. I was getting neither.
Come to think of it, in 2003 I had pretty much stopped doing any of the things I enjoyed. I had given up acting years before when I realized I would never be able to put a roof over my head doing it. Likewise with music. I had stopped playing live years before, and had quite literally stopped playing and singing altogether that year – even at home.
At 36 I was caught up in the minutia of raising kids. It’s an exhausting place to be. I wouldn’t change a thing, of course, but that doesn’t take away from how draining it is to be completely and utterly dedicated to meeting the needs of these tiny beings. And when you are down deep in it – in the weeds – it’s hard not to feel regret. You may not want to admit it, but you know it’s true. It’s not valid, or even real. It just is.
It’s kind of like I turned 36 and had one of those stop-and-pause moments that you ask yourself “Am I where I wanted to be?” And I obviously didn’t like the answer.
But the truth is, I didn’t know where I wanted to be. I never did. It was an unanswerable question. I was judging myself based on impossible criteria. Holding myself up to a standard that I would never achieve. Setting myself up for failure.
Sometime very soon after I turned 36 I realized this, and almost immediately everything changed.
You pretty much know how this turns out. I still have the same brilliant and beautiful wife and we raised two incredible humans despite our best efforts to screw them up. I have a spectacular business partner and we own one of the busiest Managed IT Service Providers in the Toronto area, helping small and mid-sized business achieve their business goals through our technology. We do it really well.
I started playing music again. I play it all the time. I can’t believe I ever stopped. Nothing is better than being handed a glass of great scotch and having a piano bench pushed under you by your friends. And after 25 years without theatre, I jumped back in again a few years back. It has been one of the singular joys of my life to be immersed in the local theater community. I have met some unbelievably talented people who are now among my closest friends. I consider myself – quite literally – to be the luckiest guy in the universe.
When I turned 36 I had a realization. This life owes me nothing. I forgave myself for my own failures and moved on. I stopped being a bystander and became a participant. I am not perfect, but man, am I ever grateful and fortunate.
But still With all this overkill And bitterness instilled My heart’s left unfulfilled But I’m not jaded –Jaded
AUTHORS NOTE: This original review was written in June 2003, way before MM saw huge success - playing in Sarah McLachlan's band and marrying then producer Luke Doucet and forming the amazing combo Whitehorse - check them out here!
Melissa McClelland is late and I’m in a music store waiting for her. Neither is a good situation. The poor girl’s manager has already called my cell to tell me she’s stuck in Toronto traffic hell on the Gardiner and is crawling as fast as she can. I’m forced to look at thousands of CDs I desperately want for another half hour at least. It hurts. A lot.
Under the heading of Worth Waiting For: Melissa shows up unnecessarily apologetic (NOBODY needs to apologize for urban traffic difficulties in this insane city), looking lovely and downright fresh as a daisy even AFTER an hour and a half in the car. Yours truly is sweating buckets on this hot June day and hoping MM isn’t completely disgusted.
I’m your missionary, your guru, I’m your God I’ve been saving you all along — Pretty Blue
For those who aren’t in the know, the Toronto-area singer/songwriter is quickly becoming the going concern of the vibrant local music scene. Though officially unreleased, her sophomore album, STRANDED IN SUBURBIA has been racking up the critical kudos based solely on word-of-mouth and what has recently been a relentless touring schedule. Indeed, STRANDED is an absolutely astonishing gem of an album, regardless of her touring efforts or the fact that she’s barely 24.
Her chronological age is completely misleading. McClelland is actually a veteran of the incredibly taxing troubadour lifestyle – a fact that she appropriately wears as a badge of honour. Performing live since the age of 16, Melissa was playing open mike nights and tolerating late-night bar crowds while others her age were still trying to score a cell phone from Daddy. The artist insists, however, that the performing lifestyle was less a conscious choice than it was an innate desire to which she submitted long ago.
“I have a very distinct memory, probably when I was 8 or 9… I just remember thinking ‘I am going to be a musician’,” McClelland recalls vividly. “It was a very decisive moment in my life, and ever since then I never really considered doing anything else. I’ve had a lot of other interests and a few other passions, but it’s been pretty full force towards music since the beginning.” She’s quick to add that it was her parent’s unconditional support that never really made her question her commitment. “They’ve been great all the way through. They used to drive me to my gigs when I was 16. I know I’m lucky. I really do.”
When all these colours blend completely Tell me – can you even see me? — Little Birds
Not surprisingly, an excruciatingly young girl performing folky tunes on Open Mike nights did not get taken as seriously as she took herself. “For the longest time I was considered that ‘cute little singer girl’ who would stand meekly behind the mike”, she laughs, imitating her early performances. “But it really was worthwhile, looking back. I met so many great people – other musicians mostly – that shaped my writing and performing over time. But man,” she readily acknowledges with a laugh, “some of those early songs were BAD!”
Fortunately for McClelland, ‘bad’ is not a descriptive phrase she hears much anymore. Sacrificing her formative years to the reckless gods of musical creativity has more than paid off for her. Her first CD, simply self-titled and released in 2001, was already leaps and bounds above most of her more experienced contemporaries, both lyrically and musically. Tracks like Garden Of Eden, Past Lives, and Whisper are sardonically vivid and incredibly eloquent – a strong indication of where she would eventually land with STRANDED IN SURBURBIA “My first CD was basically an accumulation of my writing since the very first days. Like Whisper – I was 17 when I wrote that. I’m really proud of that record – but I was just getting my feet wet. It was all very young material,” she says, almost apologetically. But that’s what is so refreshing about this artist. Her debut is, if anything, a work of stark maturity that actually betrays her youth. I mean, how many 17-year-olds can write like this:
6AM and the night is still breathing down my back The radio is blaring static in the distance And the sky is a circus of dark clouds and a rising sun But I don’t want the day to come I want the whole night to swallow me — Whisper
Regardless of how ‘young’ she considers the material on her debut record, McClelland comfortably acknowledges that it went a long way to informing this new album. “Near the end of recording MM was when I began writing for the new one. Where MELISSA MCCLELLAND was written over a period of years, STRANDED was written in a significantly smaller time period. The process was much more condensed this time, and the material was more interdependent – more tied in to one theme.”
Melissa is as up-front about the theme of the album as she is in her songs. STRANDED IN SUBURBIA is about exactly that – the painful malaise of being a teen trapped in the suffocating confines of a bedroom community. But this is no pubescent bitch session or ‘I-didn’t-get-a-car-for-my-birthday’ menial complaint. STRANDED is alternately hilarious and disturbing in its brutal depictions of boredom, lust, dread, longing, and ultimately hope. It is an intricately woven series of lyrical vignettes so descriptive that you may as well be holding this girl’s hand while she wades through the odyssey. “Pretty much every song on STRANDED is derived from my personal experience,” McClelland admits openly, “it’s how I write and have always written.”
I am so in love Barefoot in suburbia But when the winter comes This grass will shrivel up and die –- White Lies
Personal she definitely is. Case-in-point is White Lies, a song that succinctly sums up the general tone of the album in its simmering angst and portrayal of destructive suburban boredom. The relentless, smashing backbeat further augments the underlying desperation. “That whole song was actually inspired by this memory that I had of me as a teenager,” she starts, “Me and my friends were always up to no good. We were definitely the ‘bad’ kids in the neighbourhood. It was – I don’t know – maybe two in the morning and we were in this junkyard. There was this old school bus there, and were just throwing stones at it, breaking the windows. This was somehow fun for us. It just completely represented my teenage years in suburbia. Being bored, being in love with troubled boys and doing destructive things like that –you think you’re happy, but when you really examine it there’s this dread that you’re not dealing with.”
Luckily for us, McClelland is dealing with it right out in front of everyone, in all its wistful beauty and brash ugliness. The language on STRANDED IN SUBURBIA is immediately in-your-face, frequently blue but never gratuitous. In fact, every time she says ‘fuck’ it’s like being punched – you know unequivocally that she means business.
Maybe I’m naïve but I’m not fucking stupid –Jaded
Perhaps the most lyrically aggressive song on the record, Jaded can and will be easily misconstrued as lashing out angrily at a badly resolved relationship. In truth, stresses McClelland, it’s more about confidence in the face of adversity. “Everyone goes through their heartbreak and deals with their stuff differently,” she explains. “What I was trying to say in that song is that no matter what anyone does to me, I’m not going to put up walls. I’m not going to be scared to experience love or experience anything. It’s really about not being held back.” Though STRANDED IN SUBURBIA is doubtlessly an impressive achievement for McClelland lyrically, the musical metamorphosis between her sparse, self-titled debut and STRANDED is even more significant. Melissa jockeys between acoustic and electric guitars deftly and increases the presence of her violin considerably on this record. Kudos obviously go to veteran producer Luke Doucet who has beautifully captured the core energy of the songs, carved a nasty edge into the arrangements, and ratcheted up the alt-rock hooks to full bleed. “Luke is brilliant – bottom line,” she asserts without hesitation. “We were on the same page musically from the beginning, but he brought so much more to my songs than I could have done alone – things that I would have never seen or thought of doing. It was incredible to have a sounding board like him around.” Doucet is indeed all over this recording, not only in the producer’s role but everywhere from the toy piano in Little Birds to the crashing electric guitar in White Lies and Factory.
The latter song is actually one of two cover versions included on the album (the other being Tom’s Diner by Suzanne Vega) – a fact that Melissa herself still finds surprising. “It’s not like I do cover versions during performances on a regular basis – and yet there are two on the album,” she muses. “I actually was doing the Springsteen tune (Factory) live off and on. I worked in a factory for about a month to make some extra cash for Christmas, listening to DARKNESS ON THE EDGE OF TOWN a lot, so of course the song hit home. I learned it and started playing it live. I ended up really liking the way it sounded and played it for Luke, but we figured if we were going to include it on the album, we’d have to change it up a bit.” Enter the wild guitar riffs and stumbling drum lines that render the song virtually unrecognizable to the pared-down original. No apologies from McClelland, however. “If you’re an artist and you’re inspired by another artist’s song, you have to make it your own or it’s a waste of time.”
These are my scars tearing I’ve got to heal myself Not you – Pretty Blue
Though she’s a veteran and fervent supporter of the independent music scene, McClelland will be faced with some tough yet exciting decisions in the near future if the initial reaction to STRANDED is any indication. She confides that there is already some enthusiastic interest from established labels and has consequently held off on any wide release of the record until the options are fully laid out in front of her team. Characteristically, Melissa is dealing with her career openly, carefully and with confidence. “I’m under no misconceptions about label deals and contracts – we’ve got a really good lawyer,” she jokes. “And being independent has a lot of positive points – especially when I’m promoting something I am so happy with. There is something so much more personally rewarding about independent success, and of course it makes opening industry doors much easier. Barenaked Ladies shopped their stuff around for a year without getting a bite, then released it independently and it sold like crazy. After that, they had the majors bidding on them. In a perfect world – that would be ideal.”
That being said, the road-weariness and poverty of a musician’s life have forced her to look at the situation from a different standpoint. “My goal has always been to be able to support myself comfortably with my music. I’ve done the nine-to-five thing and it’s NOT for me,” she states adamantly (all it takes is one listen to Little Birds and you know this about her). “Having the distribution and support of a good label are important factors that I am seriously considering. But I’m looking for a very specific environment – something nurturing to artists, not just exploitative to them.”
I am playing God And I am raising hell As far as I can tell I am all alone, alone in this world Alone with you -Rooftop
Regardless of the outcome, one thing is inarguable: Melissa McClelland is a very rare commodity in music – profoundly talented, whip-smart, and unswervingly committed to her art – in no particular order. Work of this caliber lands in your lap maybe once a decade. Of course, though appreciative, she attributes the lion’s share of her success to the people by which she is surrounded.
“Lucky, very lucky is how I refer to myself all the time. Meeting and working with amazingly creative and supportive people like Rob (Lamothe – producer of her debut album) and Luke Doucet, The Ladybird Sideshow (an indie ‘supergroup’ of female singer/songwriters with whom she often performs featuring Janine Stoll, Erin Smith, and Lisa Winn), and my friends and family – I couldn’t do what I do without them. I’m one of those people who is DEFINITELY not an island. The incredible contributions of others brought me here. Me – my songs – whatever. It’s all a freakish conglomeration of my experiences. And…” she quickly adds, “…I wouldn’t have it any other way,”
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This original review was written in March 2003 for my online radio station RismixLive. Visit Alice Peacock's web site at www.alicepeacock.com
It’s pretty near impossible to conduct an interview when you’re separated by a few thousand miles and a precarious cellular connection. And yet that’s where singer/songwriter Alice Peacock finds herself this afternoon – struggling to hear my questions over the blasts of static as I picture her dangling out an open car window trying to improve the reception. Eventually she just stops moving completely and sets up camp at a rest stop simply to avoid tossing the phone altogether.
I caught up with the Chicago-based singer/songwriter on the road as she travelled between Oklahoma City and Dallas, conscientiously catering to the road demands of her craft. “Sure I get tired,” she says cheerfully, “but this is what I want to do. Playing live is where I started and where I’m most comfortable. And as long as people keep showing up, well, that’s what I’m doing this for.”
People showing up will not likely be a problem in the foreseeable future for this Minnesota native. Her sophomore album, ALICE PEACOCK, has been received well both critically and commercially since its release in the fall of 2002, with a significant buzz reverberating through the AAA underground, fuelled specifically by the online media. Of course, one has to tolerate the customary female singer/songwriter comparisons – Sheryl Crow, Shawn Colvin, Joni Mitchell – but Peacock remains flattered and realistic about any resemblances. “I guess we all get compared to Joni at one time or another – she’s like the “mother” of the genre, and I don’t have any problem whatsoever with that. I don’t really see any huge similarities though, other than the fact that we both use open tunings on the guitar and have a commitment to writing from an honest place.”
It’s that honesty that ignites and fuels ALICE PEACOCK. Peacock’s sweet demeanor is so evident in her writing that it sets the listener immediately at ease. Her lyrics are smart yet unencumbered with pretense, so she has no problem getting her point across. And she serves up her soul so vividly that you have no choice but to involve yourself completely.
“Writing for me is a long, consistent search for truth – my truth,” insists Peacock. “Sometimes I’m trying to cope with it, and sometimes I try to reconcile it to where I am at this point in my life. But mostly, I think I’m just trying to establish what exactly my truth is. That’s what the record, and really what my career has been and will continue to be about. The fact that other people relate to it is an incredible validation for me. It’s very motivating as an artist.”
Indeed, some of the most popular songs on the album are peppered with this kind of self-reconciliation. ‘I Hear You Say’ and ‘I’ll Be The One’ are energetic, driven pop tunes from a first-person perspective on relationships. “People see themselves differently in relationships – they have different understandings than their partner might. It’s human nature. ‘I Hear You Say’ is really just a comment on that kind of interpretation.” Both of these songs push to the forefront the kind of breezy confidence that fills most of the album, though Peacock laughs at the suggestion. “It’s nice to know that’s the way it comes across,” she says with a knowing chuckle, “and I’m going to leave it at that.”
Not all the tunes on ALICE PEACOCK make for easy listening on an emotional level. ‘Some Things Get Lost’, for instance, portrays the anguish of loss with a gentle simplicity but a heartache that’s almost tangible. “I wrote that song to help myself grieve,” she admits contemplatively. “It was all about the catharsis; about putting the pain into something real that I could take out or put away as I needed to.” Another song, a hidden track on the album – ‘Northern Star’ – is borne of the same pensive hurt. “They’re both so personal, but the sentiment is so universal. I guess that’s why people relate to them on such a basic level. That’s when I know I’m doing this thing right – when the audience just gets it without me even trying.”
That Peacock’s lyrical dexterity is instinctive is a foregone conclusion after the album’s first listen, but she is quick to point out that she broadened her skills by sharing co-writing credits on a few songs with prominent peers like Tom Littlefield, Angelo, Kristen Hall and Indigo Girls’ Emily Saliers. “Kristen and I had been introduced by a mutual friend, and we ended up hanging out together during one of my trips through Atlanta. We were in her apartment, watching TV and throwing around some song ideas, when we noticed a story on illiteracy in Georgia and how 1 in 3 people can’t read. We just couldn’t believe the numbers. So we started talking about how politicians were too busy with their own agendas and in-fighting to notice the issue, and how people have to take some personal responsibility for the problem to help get it solved. Pretty soon we were writing ‘I’ll Start With Me’, and Kristen was getting Emily Saliers on the phone to give us a hand. It was great. The three of us are basically on the same page creatively so the writing process was just a joy. It’s the most political song I ever wrote, and it felt good to take a position.”
ALICE PEACOCK marks the beginning of Peacock’s relationship with Chicago’s prestigious AWARE label, home of Grammy nominee John Mayer (with whom Alice duets on her new single, “Bliss”) and the new singer/songwriter-centric supergroup The Thorns (Shawn Mullins, Pete Droge, and Matthew Sweet). Label exec Gregg Latterman closely monitored Peacock’s rise through her first release, REAL DAY, and was quick to jump on board as she wrapped up the current album.
“AWARE is obviously a great fit for me. They’re not about making the next pop smash – they’re really nurturing to their artists. Gregg specifically is absolutely dedicated to artist development. It’s very reassuring to have that kind of machine behind you as a solo performer.”
Alice Peacock
Even with a major label behind her, Peacock has no qualms about what it’s going to take to succeed in the volatile swamp that is today’s music industry. “I take a very grass roots approach to my career. I’m in it for the long haul, not for any flash-in-the-pan kind of gratification. The influence and distribution of a major label is great, but it takes some serious dedication from the artist to really reach the audience. I’m on the road a lot, playing, doing interviews – just basically getting the word out and building support. The challenge is keeping up the momentum and expanding my fan base.”
Part of that dedication is recognizing the value of file-sharing in the ongoing crusade to ‘spread the word’ about her music, though that recognition is somewhat reluctant as it is with most artists signed to a label. “I have to admit I’m in a quandary about the whole thing. File-sharing has given a whole new meaning to ‘word-of-mouth’. Like I said before, any way to pass the word is good to me. But I also see the way that album sales and SoundScan numbers can seriously impact a career, and anything that negatively affects those numbers is cause for concern. Either way, I’m not sure that my audience does a whole lot of downloading, so right now I’m not worrying too much.”
In the end, the bottom line is the songs, and it’s Peacock’s quality of work alone that will leave the greatest impression on the listener. Her live, acoustic performances are celebrated for their magnetism and her ability to connect to her audience on a very organic plane. The songs on ALICE PEACOCK are like conversations over coffee – personal yet accessible – with sensibility and smarts to spare. Listening to the album, and speaking with the artist, you quickly become privy to a strong woman who is wistfully comfortable with her past and passionately hopeful about her future.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This original review was written in May of 2000, just after Singer Rob Thomas had the crazy successful single "Smooth" with Santana. Many solid releases followed, but in an Instagram post from April 9, 2016, Kyle Cook announced his departure from Matchbox Twenty, citing "deterioration of communication, disagreements on when, where and how we tour and a general breakdown of democracy within the group." However, less than a year later on March 27, 2017, Cook announced Matchbox Twenty's North American co-headlining summer tour with Counting Crows. You can read more about Matchbox Twenty here.
They are the most dreaded two words a hardworking rock band can hear. The words ring in their ears ’til their hoops jangle and leave them shaking in their dusty engineer boots. Certainly, the last thing they want to do is hear them after a hugely successful debut record and 600 gigs in 3 years. Nevertheless, here they are: “SOPHOMORE CURSE”.
For those not familiar with this record company nightmare, it refers to the seemingly innate manner in which otherwise flourishing young bands follow up million-selling debut albums with, for lack of a better word, crap. Their second release usually seems hastily thrown together and often bears a very close and ultimately boring resemblance to the first record. Of course, the explanations for this phenomenon are many and far-reaching, ranging from bad karmic alignment to very long-lasting hangovers. In reality, the answer is likely far less sexy than all that – the sad majority just don’t have the musical innards to keep creating interesting music.
How does a potentially great band avoid the curse? Well, if you follow the example of matchbox twenty, the answer is simple: you draw on every ounce of creativity, talent, and raw energy you have and focus all your efforts on your studio work.
Then, just for good measure, you have your singer co-write one of the hottest singles of the past decade and perform on the highest-selling album of the year.
“Certainly, the Santana thing didn’t hurt us,” snickers matchbox twenty guitarist Kyle Cook from the Atlantic offices in Georgia, “though we were a bit concerned when Rob (Thomas) was recording “Smooth” that we would be somehow lumped into the whole Latin pop thing that was really exploding at the time. Of course, what it really did was bring our music to a whole other demographic.”
Slightly understated. “Smooth”, co-written and performed by matchbox singer Rob Thomas and Carlos Santana, has driven Santana’s comeback album “Supernatural” up past 1 million units in Canada alone. It achieved the coveted all-format crossover status recently attained by artists like Alanis Morissette and Lauryn Hill, solidifying a far-reaching fan base from pre-teens to retirees.
Just what effect this kind of huge success will have on matchbox twenty will be seen in the coming months, after the release of their second album, “mad season by matchbox twenty” on May 23rd. This 13-song collection of straight-ahead rock melodies follows up the solid success of their 1996 debut “yourself or someone like you”, and makes a concerted effort to embrace the soul of that record while pushing past the trap of self-imitation to really define their true sound.
“The last thing we wanted to do was release a re-written version of the last record, and I really feel that we avoided that”, insists Cook. “The first album was us just getting our feet wet – it kind of hit the ground running and was very raw. This time around we took a lot more time to nurture the sound and the feel of the record. The songs were more carefully arranged. The most noticeable similarity it has to the last album is the fact that Rob still knows how to capture a melody.”
Indeed, Thomas seems to have taken the writing process of this record very seriously. Following an extended break from the grueling touring schedule of the last album, Rob and producer Matt Serletic (who also produced the debut) locked themselves in a North Carolina cabin for a fairly intense writing session. What emerged was the skeleton of the new album, but Cook insists that it was the studio process where the songs really took life.
” We all took one giant step forward with Mad Season, really pushing our techniques and abilities to the max. We also brought in some horns and strings to fill out the sound. The real stand-out element on this record is the backbone, which I think the past few years experience has given us.”
Certainly Mad Season’s sound shows an instrumental thickness and texture that was less visible on Yourself Or Someone Like You. Songs like “Black and White People”, “Crutch” and “Angry” vibrate with rhythm-rich guitar lines and pumped up horn arrangements, while “You Won’t Be Mine” reinforces its lyrical sentiment with a 68-piece orchestra. The backup vocals emerge from songs with a real Beatlesque weight, swelling up behind Thomas’s distinct voice with strikingly intricate harmonies, especially in tunes like “Last Beautiful Girl” and “Mad Season”.
Matchbox Twenty
It is the melodies, however, that will resonate with listeners most. “If You’re Gone” is a strong ballad so smooth and lyrical that the longing is almost palpable, and “Bed Of Lies” has a memorable chorus that could take its place confidently behind songs by Billy Joel or Elvis Costello. “Rob did a lot more writing on piano this time around,” says Cook, ” and I personally think that makes the songs more interesting. His chord knowledge is better on piano than it is on guitar, so the patterns have more variety and excitement to them.”
Not surprisingly, it’s the integrity of the music on Mad Season that is most important to Kyle Cook. As a graduate of the Atlanta Institute Of Music, he brings years of theory and technique to a band that roots itself in bar room rock. “The school experience was great and I would do it all again. I got to spend all my time learning and playing with unbelievably talented players. It certainly helped my playing, but it’s not integral to what we do in matchbox. Rob understands theory but writes from his gut. All the music instruction in the world can’t create a truly good piece of rock ‘n roll.”
If anything, Mad Season is just that – good rock ‘n roll complete with great hooks and honest emotion. As for the ‘sophomore curse’, matchbox twenty’s manager Michael Lippman told Billboard magazine recently that “we’ve been listening to everyone tell us how this record is going to fail, how we’re a one-hit wonder, even if we’ve had four or five top singles. All that makes us do is work harder and come together stronger.” Cook’s view is muted but positive. “I’m incredibly proud of this record. That won’t change whether we sell one copy or one million.”
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This original review was written in March of 2000, before Damhnait saw huge success with her next albums as well as collaborations with the band Shaye as well as with Bruce Cockburn among many others. You can read more about Damhnait Doyle here.
I hate Yorkville. I always feel like I’m not dressed appropriately, or that I’ll get charged a cover as I round the corner from University Ave. And to top it all off, I’m sitting in Starbucks, sipping an overpriced coffee and writing in a journal. The air is thick with the smell of pretense and cappuccino.
I’m here to meet Damhnait Doyle, the 24 – year-old singer/songwriter from Newfoundland who’s stunning showcase of her new album “Hyperdramatic” had recently sent an electric shock through Canadian Music Week. Forget the unrelenting hipness of the venue she used (This Is London). Forget all the martinis and long cigarettes. Forget the miles and miles of high-powered music industry folk whose eyes were glued to the stage. There was only one conclusion to be made this night:
That woman can sing.
Suddenly she’s sitting in front of me, surrounded by an almost visible aura of enthusiasm. There is no doubt from this vantage point that there will be some truth spoken here. Almost immediately we are discussing music and musicians. “I’m always listening to new stuff, but there’s a few I always go back to,” she states. “The entire Ben Harper catalogue is usually within easy reach. And the new Fiona Apple I think is brilliant. And Aimee Mann…” she whispers as she suddenly breaks into “Wise Up” from Mann’s ‘Magnolia’ soundtrack. People turn around.
There’s that voice again.
The onlookers are trying to figure out how they know her. It’s doubtful that they associate this striking woman with the 19-year-old from the East Coast who briefly graced the musical landscape in 1996. At that point, her debut album “Shadows Wake Me” had earned a Juno nomination for Best New Solo Artist and her single “A List Of Things” was charting respectably. Suddenly, her record label went belly up, leaving Doyle and label-mates like Sandbox to eventually be ‘inherited’ by EMI Music Canada. While Sandbox eventually parted ways with the record company, Doyle decided to keep the flame alive.
” I was kind of in limbo there for a couple of years. I was excited to be on a major label, but I was fully aware of how I got there. They didn’t court me or anything, and obviously the A&R department at EMI had signed acts that they believed in and wanted to develop. And I didn’t really have the conviction about my music that I have now. So it took a little time for both of us to get on the same plane. But we are there now, and it’s just amazing.”
The feeling seems to be mutual. The attention that EMI is paying to this developing artist is almost unprecedented. Cross-country promotional tours and showcases have already started, and judging by her Canadian Music Week appearance, they are going to be very high profile. As well, EMI allowed all the tracks on “Hyperdramatic” to be downloaded online for a month before release date. Although the files are no longer usable after March 14th, the extent to which the record company used this kind of promotional tool is pretty much unparalleled in the music industry.
The risks seem to be working. The first single, “Tattooed”, co-written by Christopher Ward, has already started making its way up the charts and both major Canadian pop music channels are embracing the video. But just as important as her record label’s support is the fact that Doyle has created a really solid piece of work.
“Hyperdramatic” is a passionate foray into the mind of a young woman in flux. From the eerie throb of lead track ‘Maybe It’s You’ to the closing lament of ‘Maybe A Son’, listeners are immersed in the artist’s soul – and all the joy, desperation and hope that encompasses. The music is dynamic and crisp, flavoured throughout with an effective balance of catchy hooks and moody eclecticism, and the lyrics are simple and painfully sincere.
“I didn’t write songs. I wrote little stories about me, not intending for them to be crafted songs that would appeal to anybody else,” she says frankly. “They were written purely selfishly, purely as a therapeutic tool.” Indeed, that therapy gives the album the fundamental elements of good art – true expression based on raw emotion.
And then there’s that voice.
Damhnait sings like she’s opened a wound and is letting the blood flow freely over everyone around her. The listener feels the crush of ego as she sings ‘I’m helplessly happy you’re happy, I just don’t want to know’, and joins her playful frustration as she laments, ‘why you treat me so well/why you treat me the way I deserve to be treated’. Her voice soars and aches and reaches out in supplication. It ebbs and flows through the album’s themes and ties them all together. That, Doyle gratefully acknowledges, has as much to do with producer Dave Hodge as it does with her.
“During pre-production, Dave sketched out all the songs on his computer first, so I really had 2 or 3 months to get used to the structure of the songs and where my vocals would be before we actually went into the studio to record. It was great because I really had time to think about how I wanted to approach each song.”
Doyle with SHAYE compadres Kim Stockwood and Tara MacLean. MacLean left the group in 2007 and the band folded by 2009. The band is named after MacLean’s sister who died in a car accident in 2002.
Nearly four years after she flashed across the Canadian music scene and quite literally disappeared, Doyle is obviously thrilled with the way this album has turned out. “I felt like there was a singular goal when people came in to work on this record, like some karmic retribution was going to happen. You know when you have a friend that you watch struggle to do what they want to do creatively, and then you see them having the opportunity to achieve that, so you do whatever you can to help them. That’s what this record was about to me.”
She has every right to be confident and self-assured about what she’s created. After all, there has never been a better time to be a Canadian musician – especially one who is female.
“The success of people like Sarah, Celine and Shania – that’s wonderful. I think it says a lot about the respect the world has for Canadians as artists. If it happens for me, that’s great, but I’m not looking for it. Any kind of commercial sensibilities that happened on this record happened purely by accident. If I look at a piece of art and I know that it’s been created to appeal to everyone, it doesn’t hold the same value to me as a consumer. If it’s created from the basic need of an artist to express themselves, and turns out to have a wide appeal, well that’s just a bonus. I think I’ll always hold my music up to those standards, no matter what.”
With that philosophy still hanging in the air, she thanks me and leaves to accommodate the next interview, and I’m left once again with an overpriced coffee and my journal as company. For a moment there, however, the pretense was gone, and I caught a glimpse of the Yorkville of the past – the Yorkville of Gordon Lightfoot, Neil Young, and Joni Mitchell. The gentleman next to me admits meekly that he overheard our conversation and wants to know who this young musician with integrity is, and where he can hear her.
I assure him not to worry – he’ll hear her very soon.
