Producer's Diary: Rusted Pews
Back when Clubhouse was new, there was a popular room for independent artists. You’d find real-estate hackers, teenagers, and NFT people there. A guy named Fernando, too. On a good day, you might even catch a real music professional, like 4rAx of the Mekanix.
Sam—who helped write Track 1—hung out in this room. Her profile had a black-and-white head shot and a link to her album. It sounded straight out of La Jetée: raw, far-off folk.
We got to talking.
She was involved in a PhD program in Glasgow, or maybe taught it. She loved garage rock and Americana sounds. And her Instagram was off-the-rails in the best way. Like if Miranda July had gotten into records: She danced, she wrote, she performed, and she sang with intent. I wanted to find a way to work together, so I called her.
Over Zoom, we played her the beginning of Rusted Pews – barely a first verse.
“Bit of that Kurt Vile vibe,” she said, “but, sunnier”.
Then, she told me my drums were awful. Which was true.
Over the course of four or five Zooms, we finished the song. Got a real drummer, too. That’s Hans Seegers on the kit, a Nashville percussionist and producer with four brains that all went to Berklee College of Music. Jackson Goode on vocals and guitar, and my friend Olivia real quiet in the chorus.
Three notes on lyric:
The Hot Mic Effect
You never know what the vocal booth will pull out of a person. Case in point: “The Lord’s blessing on me” — Who would have thought the Prince of Atheists came up with that one?
SuperVoice
One vocal; everyone’s experience.
Inverse
What do you do on the road? You look out the window. In Middle TN, you might see a Kroger bag, or, a “Nashville tumbleweed,” as locals call them. Hills. Anything that makes up a landscape.
“But what does the landscape see?” asked Sam.
“Oh, that sounds like a chorus!”