So people have been keeping something from me.
Many years ago, I was in a songwriting group. It was a great, great, great experience. There were just three of us: me, Dave Dersham, and James O’Brien. Back then, we were all hitting the open mikes together, and James was the host of the Passim open mike, and we would meet every month or two to tear each other’s songs apart. Our styles couldn’t have been more different; but we were friends, and trusted each other, and all of us thought really hard about songwriting, and I have never, ever gotten better, more insightful, more honest critiques of my writing than I did back then. It was a crucial time for me; I was finally getting serious about solo performance, and the lessons I learned about examining my material honestly were absolutely invaluable.
Time goes by; people leave. Dave moved to western Mass., where he’s still writing and performing (his latest album, “Gilding the Lilies”, is marvelous). James went off to Lord knows where (well, lots of people know, but I keep forgetting). And I was left alone to ply my trade. But then, lo, my pal Marc Herman decided to start hosting occasional songwriting circles at his house, and that group included some of my favorite songwriting colleagues, like Marc, Joel Ninesling, Susan Levine, and a host of others. It didn’t quite achieve the same level of critical trust that Dave and James and I had achieved – that would have been impossible, with so many people – but it was good. I remember the day that Joel played his brand new song about Jackie Robinson, “Waving Jackie Home” (which I now must listen to – please stand by – oh, yes, still fabulous). Hearing songs like that, still fresh, like newborn babies – it doesn’t get any more special.
But like I said, time goes by. Marc stopped performing regularly, and the rest of his life intervened, and the circles ended, and once again, I was left alone to ply my trade. And then, just a couple months ago, I was at a house concert, and bumped into Mark Stepakoff and Esther Friedman, and somehow it came up in conversation that Esther and her hubby, Chris LaVancher, were hosting a monthly songwriting circle at their house, and it turns out that everybody I know is invited, and it also turns out that it’s been going on for seven years.
Well, now.
For the sake of narrative entertainment, I was quite put out, all this songwriter circling going on behind my back. I mean, I know I’ve been out of the loop, but this couldn’t avoid reeking of conspiracy. I can still imagine them sitting around, all those years, wrapping up their afternoon’s work, with a final reminder: “Whatever you do, don’t tell Sam!” And then Stepakoff let it slip. I don’t even want to think about what they did to him – they probably hung him by his capos in the backyard, where the crows ate him. Sure, he just featured the other night at Amazing Things, and he looked perfectly healthy, but I wasn’t fooled – he must just be an exceptionally fast healer.
But I kid. Really, it’s great to be doing this again – not only is it a bunch of my favorite musical friends, but it happens like clockwork, every month, and I really, desperately need to be writing more. So far, I’ve been to two sessions, and while the song I finished for the second session will never again see the light of day, I finished it. And that’s my plan: to finish something, every single month. Because if you’re gonna write great songs, you gotta write songs. And you gotta play ’em for people.