“Fifteen Steps and Draw” is a laid back lo-fi gem that depicts the complicated context of Northern St. Louis—and beyond that—contemporary America. Rather than an endorsement or condemnation of 2nd amendment rights, Lolito’s sharp eye focuses in on what’s left unresolved by easy gun rights narratives. The song ends with a rhetorical question “who is afraid of you?” Musically “Fifteen Steps and Draw” utilizes a tight-four-piece arrangement that undulates with organ swells, guitar stabs, and snare shots to create a sound like Ray Lamontange dropping acid on Beale St.
You can listen to “Fifteen Steps and Draw” here. SC: This uses a lot of repetition in the verse, e.g., “I still, I still / ain’t let my blood spill”. Can you tell me about that choice? Does it reflect a conflicted narrator? Can you tell me about the shift in tension between the verse and the bridge? AL: The repetition is there mostly because that’s what the cadence of the verse calls for. The lyrics themselves, however, are about guns. I wrote the song when I was living in St. Louis. I moved to St. Louis in 2014 to teach High School on the north side. Up there, like a lot of places down here, gun violence is a complex, tragic issue. I’ve always found myself dismissive of pro-second amendment arguments. Something about old, white, good old boy senators, who I imagine live in nice neighborhoods, talking about how they need to protect themselves always rubbed me the wrong way. In St. Louis, I was working with a lot of people, kids and adults, who claimed to own guns and felt the need to protect themselves. I heard firsthand accounts of gun violence and knew people who were shot while I was living there. There’s a certain lawlessness in some parts of America where the state has failed and where on a personal level it is hard to argue with someone who thinks they’re safer with a gun. I tried to write the song about how guns can make us feel safe, but never really resolve the underlying insecurities that exist in the first place. SC: What is your writing process like? Do you write every day? Do you hold off for inspiration? AL: I’m definitely more of a hold off for inspiration type of writer. I can’t approach songwriting like a full-time job. I can’t sit at a desk and whip something up on command. Melodies come to me sometimes when I’m washing dishes or waking up or using the bathroom. Really, anywhere. I try to capture the melody, recreate it on the guitar, and I go from there. With “Fifteen Steps and Draw”, I think I was cleaning my room when the melody came. It was real simple so I wrote it down. We ended up recording that song live in one evening. My friend, who is an incredibly talented producer, Thomas Avery, invited me over to help guinea pig some new equipment for a session he was doing with another band. I was floating through Atlanta at the time and threw together a little band the day of—Matt Pendrick played bass, Paul Stevens played keys, Zack Falls played drums. Those guys are good friends and great musicians, so I was fortunate to have that opportunity. SC: How does your community of songwriters influence you? AL: I moved back to Atlanta about three months ago after two years in St. Louis and a year living in Sicily. In both of those places, I was pretty isolated. I knew musicians, but never had a “community of songwriters” the way I do in Atlanta. As a result, I was writing a lot of songs alone. I brought those songs back to Atlanta with me and I’m currently developing a new project tentatively called “The Titos”. We’ve built up a nice set list with the songs I wrote while I was living away. It’s been great playing with old friends-- Zack Falls and Ian Mastrogiocamo who I used to play with in the Space Time Travelers. Daniel Kirslis, who is a good friend with a great ear is also playing some keys with us. Paul Stevens has been helping out, too. We’re starting to really collaborate on the song writing process now, which is how I prefer to write in the first place. It really feels like the creative chakras are open in a way they haven’t been for years.
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Chris Compton’s latest offering—“Sunshine In The Mine”—off his forthcoming LP Furtherville is a bluesy stomp that rocks with harmonica, fiddle, and a tight rhythm section. Throughout “Sunshine in the Mine” Compton braids a fantastic shifting cadence that mimics Southern speech patterns with a highlighted spike of musicality. It’s a smart song because it doesn’t sacrifice musical ingenuity for mass appeal. Instead what comes off is American as eating popcorn in the nosebleeds of a baseball game. Hang out for the Prog outro with pick ax flashes of chromatic shimmer as the song is lowered deeper down the mineshaft.
You can listen to "Sunshine In The Mine" here. SC: I really love how you build this song with your meter. Each line of the verse building onto your internal rhythm, “I came / to carry on the family name. / Picked up a shovel and I stepped into the front line”—later in the verse you switch the meter again. Can you tell me about how you chose this building rhythm? CC: The singer in the song is a young coal miner trying to make something of himself after the death of his father. "I came to carry on the family name" tells you it's up to him to maintain the family line. He is driven to work all day in the mines, despite the cold and wet conditions, so he can afford to buy his lover a wedding ring and start a family of his own. The cadence of the vocal line echoes his determined outlook on the future. There is a swagger to his voice when he sings "I'm telling you why." He's telling you like it is-- what kind of man he's going to make of himself. SC: What was your writing process like for “Sunshine in the Mine”? CC: I spent the weekend in a cabin up in Cashiers, North Carolina with some friends of mine in a country band. The lead singer was also a songwriter from Columbia and being in the Appalachian Mountains, we got the idea of writing a song about a coal miner. I've never really co-written with anybody but the closest I've come was with this song. We tossed around a few different ideas but the one that stuck for me was the idea of never seeing the sun because you're always underground working dawn to dusk in the mine. We each ended up writing our "coal miner" songs separately but I still liked the story I saw taking shape so I let the lyric get a little richer. I pushed it toward a narrative that reflected my own experience after loosing my father just a few years earlier. SC: What is your writing process like? Do you write every day? Do you hold off for inspiration? CC: Songwriting is really the only thing I remotely know how to do. I can't change my oil or install a ceiling fan but I can write a song. I'm pretty lucky in that I get a lot of time for reflection while I'm at work. I spend my days driving through remote parts of the countryside and this provides a lot of the inspiration for my songs. I carry a little toy guitar for banging out melodies and a notebook for lyric ideas. I try to work on something every week but I find that real creativity comes in waves and is even seasonal. Spring and fall seem to be the most productive times for me. SC: How does your community of songwriters influence you? CC: The south has deep roots in traditional music and songs with stories. While my tastes go beyond these genres, I find myself more frequently in the folk, country and bluegrass circles around town. I joined a few songwriter groups and met local artist who gave me some insight into playing in those styles. But I guess ultimately I am a loner or at least a control freak and tend to work better by myself. Photo credit: Paul Wood “Friends” begins with a gossamer backdrop of synthesizers and guitar harmonics that are tied together with Whitson’s hushed vocal. As the chorus drops, Whitson poses a sincere and biting question—“Who crowned you king / made you believe / that we’re the damned and unworthy,” as the band launches into a breath taking second verse, culminating with a harmonica solo. In a lull before the parting chorus, Whitson drawls “so sell your friends to feed the cause / but don’t be surprised when they’re all gone.” “Friends” is a powerful secular paean to friendship, betrayal, and questions of identity.
You can buy a copy of Friends here. SC: I really love these lyrics in the chorus—“Oh my friend what troubles you? / Don’t forget we’re all struggling, too. / Who crowned you king / made you believe / that we’re the damned unworthy”. Can you tell me a little about them? NW: Thank you. The lyrics of “Friends” specifically the chorus, really became a personal rallying cry at that time in my life, and really ever since. The lyrics are rooted in what was happening at the time among our friends. Reflecting on that—step back, you don’t always know what others are going through or where they’re coming from. We need to be champions of each other. SC: Do you feel the full band version of the song changes the song? NW: It’s fun bringing the stripped down acoustic songs to any group setting; like the volcano science fair project, you never know if it’s going to work just right or be a disaster. Kris and I made a full band demo when we started working together, but when we got everyone in the room to record it live everything changed, at least it felt that way. We had all kinda dabbled on some tunes on our nights off prior to recording, but we had never managed to get everyone together in the room just once. So when that day came it felt very much like we had never played together, I think it’s because everyone in the group are great songwriters and excellent musicians. It was pretty challenging the first couple takes, there was so much creative energy in the room it was like we were trying to sail a ship through a storm or wrangle a wild horse. After we went through those few hours, there’s no way that “Friends” could have been captured any better. Everyone brought something special to the song that night that made it what it is today. Sounds different, but I think the message still resonates. SC: What was your writing process like for “Friends”? NW: The writing process, for the song itself, was really a single moment. I was sleeping on a mattress in the basement with my acoustic guitar. It was late, I couldn’t sleep; restless from some of the drama at the time. I was torn with my decisions, not sure what to do next or where to go. The songs flowed out, just a pure open moment alone. I think the isolation may have helped. It’s hard to slow down these days. SC: What is your writing process like? Do you write every day? Do you hold off for inspiration? NW: I think the writing process for each one of us is unique. I know for myself, personally, it comes in waves. Ideas come on the daily and sometimes best with others around, writing together; but to really crank, I often need to turn life off and find a quiet place to be alone. SC: How does your community of songwriters influence you? NW: We have a great music community here in Atlanta. I’m always absorbing everyone’s creative energy. Everyone has a lot to give here, I think we all experience that with the different people we work with. Being surrounded by encouraging and positive people is always good for the creative spirit, it pushes you to use your best effort in everything you do. |
The Sound Connector is an online magazine for songwriters. We feature songwriting challenges, monthly interviews, and the opportunity to discover new songwriters. We are interested in all things related to the craft of songwriting. Do you want to be featured on The Sound Connector? Send us your songs!
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