***Thursday– Arivals

Mutual support would abound, and kinship would light my way.

Thanks to people like Peter Dawson, that was true. He was (and continues to be) a great friend to me when I first arrived in New Braunfels. If he had a show on the books, I could open it. If I needed a band to back me up, he talked his talented group of guys into playing with me, often times pulling double duty if we were on the same bill.

To a wider extent, the kinship I sought was somewhat of a blue heron. Sure, at one point the fabled Compound existed behind River Road Ice House, but I was a little late to that party, and most of the guys who were a part of that nightly ritual of campfire-and-song had successfully moved on to other things.

At first, I was a little hurt by the notion that, with the exception of Peter, it seemed like it was every man for himself… at least from my outsider point of view.

In retrospect, having one loyal ally was all I could have ever asked for. In many ways, it was all I needed to get things off the ground. A younger me labored with a bit of a chip on his shoulder because of the absence of this widespread kinship, the fable of which had drawn me some 1,600 miles from my hometown. I know now that my chipped shoulder was the embodiment of immaturity in its purest form, and I’m glad that none of my resulting “forget these guys, I don’t need them” bravado didn’t do any long-lasting harm to my ability to work within the amazing structure of artistic freedom and monetary potential that fans and musicians alike had created long before I arrived in this wonderful state.

It took me a good seven years to realize it, but I’m proud to say that the aforementioned fable of kinship ended up to be no kind of fable at all. It’s real.

Two weeks ago I played a few shows with some of my closest musical friends– friends who, because of shared artistic struggles, and likewise, shared artistic appreciation, have become the closest thing to family for me that the absence of a shared bloodline can allow. I’m humbled to think that I am accepted among such a group of astoundingly talented people.

And they’re not just talented. They’re going places.

Josh Grider‘s name is now officially secured among the list of legends and workhorses alike who have recorded a set as a part of the Live At Billy Bob’s brand of releases. I was honored when he asked me to sing on a song that we wrote together at the show, and that honor strikes deeper still as the resulting album has now seen the light of day. He deserves the recognition that this will bring him to the fullest extent.

Jason Eady is a few months away from releasing his stellar AM Country Heaven, which I fully expect will land him the widespread acclaim that a person with his talent deserves. He’s quiet, introspective, and sharply intelligent in person. The latter two qualities remain the focal points of his music, but he’s anything but quiet on stage. His voice is one that is impossible to ignore.

Jamie Wilson and Kelley Mickwee, one half of The Trishas, are as talented as they come– writers and songbirds both. With an album in the can and its release on the not-too-distant horizon, it’ll be a point of immense pride and pleasure to show my grandchildren pictures of me on stage with them in our younger days.

Walt Wilkins, who influenced my writing going back to my days as a big-dreaming college kid with his unmatched sense of poetic melody, has become a trusted friend while managing to maintain an influential role in my continuing development as a writer. Trust me on this: that doesn’t usually happen. Elevating someone to the ranks of a hero almost certainly means that, should the two of you ever get the chance to meet, disappointment will be close at hand. It’s tough for a human being to live up to the lofty standards you’ve crafted for them when you’ve not yet actually met– you see it all the time in the shape of professional athletes, political figures, and adults in general– but that’s never been the case with Walt. He’s actually a better person, and continues to become a better songwriter with each new and finely-crafted tune he writes, than I ever imagined that he would be. He has a new album on the way as well.

Susan Gibson is perhaps one of the most gracious people I’ve ever met. She has every right to rest on the laurels of her accomplishments, casting someone like me off with a smile and a handshake should she have other things on her mind, yet she’s more humble and more caring than a lot of people I know who have experienced one tenth of her success. She logs as many miles as anyone I know out there on the road, and I can’t tell you how much I respect her for that.

The sound of Rodney Hayden‘s voice when you finally get to hear it in person is one of the most miraculous things on the planet. How something so big, so righteously country, can emanate from a person of his size remains a mystery to me. If vocal prowess equaled physical size, he should be ten feet tall. He’s an intense songwriter, too. Prior to working with him on his stellar Tavern of Poets album, he rattled off four incredible songs in the two days leading up to its recording. It would have taken me at least four months to do what he did in all of 48 hours. He has a new live album out– just him on his guitar and David Beck on upright bass– and the songs sound as big and alive as if it were a full production.

And there are a bunch of other people with whom I’ve been able to share the road and the stage– people whom it would take me all day to mention. They’re all immensely talented, but moreover, they’re all wonderful people.

I can’t tell you how lucky I am.

Some of the people I mentioned above will be joining me in Red River, New Mexico at the beginning of March for a few days of fellowship and song. Some of the people I’ll see in the next couple of weeks, some of them perhaps not at all for quite some time. All of them, though, have become one thing to me:

My family.

So, that notion of the music community down here in Texas being one big, happy family? It ended up being spot on. It just didn’t end up involving the people that I thought it would.

And I am so, so, SO thankful for that.

You don’t get to pick your family.

I didn’t know most of the members of this, my musical family, before I moved here nearly eight years ago, and that was for the absolute best. We each found our way into this loose group by sharing a few common bonds– it means something when you let mutual admiration and the organic nature of discovery take the helm.

And those bonds?

They ended up being a lot stronger– and more important– than the ones I imagined some 1,600 miles ago could have ever been.

I’ve been looking forward to announcing this for a while.

On Thursday, March 1st, Friday, March 2nd, and Saturday, March 3rd Susan Gibson, Jason Eady, Josh Grider, Kelley Mickwee (of The Trishas), Rick Fowler, Mike Addington and I will be taking part in the first ever Red River Winter Songwriters Festival,  in Red River, New Mexico.

What will this be, you ask?

Well, if you’ve ever wanted to spend a few days in the beautiful mountains of northern New Mexico, hanging out with some of your favorite songwriters, doing a little eating, drinking, and perhaps skiing… then this event is for you.

Firstly, tickets to this event will be extremely limited. We want the people who choose to attend the festival to feel like they’ve really been able to get to know the talented artists who will be taking part in this inaugural event. We want it to feel intimate, and we want it to be special.

There will be solo shows, duo shows, and shows where each artist will be backed by a talented band. There will be late night informal jams, early afternoon ski runs, and who know what else.

Mostly, it will be three days of music, love, friendship, food, drink, and the celebration of music and song.

So, if this sounds like something you’d be interested in, packages (accommodations, some food and drinks, and access to all shows) start at $195. I honestly can’t wait for the beginning of March to roll around. To secure your spot call 1-800-91-LODGE or 575-754-6284.

To connect with others attending, head over to the Facebook event page, give it a like, and let us know you’ll be coming.

See you in Red River!

Thanks to you, it’s already been the biggest album of my career… and it’s only a few weeks old. Music has been the way in which I have made my living for the better part of a decade, so believe me when I say that the response thus far has made me feel really really good. It’s also been my biggest book release to date, but if you’ve been following along that probably comes as no big surprise, since it’s my first. I’m a glass-half-full kind of guy.

The release tour rolls on– I’m wrapping up most of Texas this month, and then I’ll be heading east for shows in Mississippi, Alabama, North Carolina, Virginia, Pennsylvania, and Tennessee. After that, my friend Matt Skinner and I will be closing out a rather successful 2011 with a handful of shows in Italy. I’m not going to lie– I’m pretty excited about all of this.

2012 is hanging out just around the corner, and I’m excited to see what it will bring. Big changes, I bet– but that’s pretty much what every year brings when you live you life between the lines of a song as I do.

With the arrival of 2012 comes one of my favorite times of the year– house concert season. That’s right– it’s the time of the year when it gets pretty chilly outside, and the notion of a warm night at home has a way of creeping into the thought process, as follows:

“Man, that guy I like is playing a show downtown tonight.”

Yeah, but did you see the weather report? It’s supposed to be, like, 20 degrees.

“But I really like his music. I’ve seen 20 degree weather, and I’m still alive, right?”

20 degrees. You heard me, right? You have a bottle of wine in the kitchen. 20. As in degrees.

“Oh… yeah. Hmmmm.”

I understand where you’re coming from… and trust me, if I didn’t have a show booked in a town that was experiencing sub-artic weather, I wouldn’t go out either. BUT, that doesn’t mean you can’t experience some quality live music, right?

Right.

I’ll come to YOU. You can invite your friends, your family, your co-workers… anyone you want! After all, it’s your party. Shoot me an email: info (at) drewkennedymusic.com if you’re interested. I can work with you to fit any budget, any date, any place. House concerts are my favorite shows that I get to play, and I play them more often than not during the colder months of the year. So, give me a shout. Even if it’s a “well, I’m kind of maybe thinking about sort of…” Let me know. I’ll work with you to make it happen… and you will, in turn, be the coolest person in your group of friends for all of 2012. Not bad, getting to wrap up that title so early in the year, right?

If I’m on my way to a town near you, come out and say hello. I’d love to meet you. You are, after all, the reason why I have a job.

Here’s to a successful conclusion of 2011!

dk

There is a lot going on around this project, so I wanted to take a few minutes to explain everything to you piece by piece, just incase I’ve failed to already do so (which is highly likely, I might add).

The Album: It’s my fifth, and I think it’s my best so far. Physical copies are available through my online store (where you have the option to bundle it with physical and digital copies of both the book and the audiobook), and also through Lone Star Music. Oh, and when you buy the physical copy of the record at my store you can also add the mp3′s for free.

The Novel: It’s my first, and it was a lot of fun to write. I think it does a good job giving the reader a glimpse into what life is like as a working musician, as well as a little insight into where and how it is, exactly, that songs are born. It’s available physically at the same places listed above, as well as digitally for your iPad, kindle, and other fancy space-aged devices through my store. It’s also digitally available through iTunes, amazon, and Barnes & Noble.

The Audiobook: This is the complete package. I have a feeling that this thing will sell the least number of units out of everything available, but I also think it’s the most interesting and important. I do a ton of traveling, obviously, and so as a veracious reader I tend to kill my time on the highways of America by listening to audiobooks. I love a good audiobook like I love few things in this world. The Audiobook for Fresh Water In The Salton Sea is important to me because it combines these two projects into one complete narrative. What will you be getting with the audiobook? Well, I narrate the novel, which contains the lyrics to all ten songs from the album, and rather than just recite the lyrics I’ve chosen to actually insert the songs from the record into the narration… so you get to hear the story being told, as well as how they play into the songs that are sung. It really does bring the whole thing together. This might not be for everyone, but I’m almost more proud of the audiobook than I am anything else. It’s available through my store, as well as iTunes, amazon, et cetera.

So there you have it: Fresh Water In The Salton Sea. It’s been almost a year in the making, and I’m glad it’s finally here. I hope you enjoy experiencing it as much as I enjoyed making it. Keep your eyes peeled to my concert calendar as I’ll be pounding the pavement all over the country and beyond in support of it. Love it? Hate it? Feel inclined to let me know? As always, I’m only a few digital inches away via twitter (@dk_music) and email (info (at) drewkennedymusic (dot) com). Thanks again– without you, there’d be no musical me.

dk

“You’re just a musician. What is all of this extra stuff?”

That’s a good question– it really is.
I could write for hours explaining what I’m going for with all of this, but who has hours (especially hours to let me expound on egocentric reasoning and justification– blarg!), right?

Here’s your explanation in video form.
Enjoy.

I’ve teamed up with my friends at Dry Comal Creek Vineyards and Winery in New Braunfels to put together an afternoon of music, wine, and good times to celebrate the release of my fifth album and my first novel, Fresh Water In The Salton Sea.

Here’s what we’ll be doing. The show, which starts at 2 pm on 10/23, will take place in the middle of Dry Comal Creek’s beautiful Winery. Your $30 ticket gets you the following:

a copy of the album
a copy of the novel
one long stem wine glass
one glass of wine

And yes, just incase you’re doing the math in your head, you’ll be getting both the album and the book a full ten days before it’s available to everyone else.

So join us for a wonderful afternoon among the rolling countryside of the Texas Hill Country. Good friends, good wine, good music. What more could you ask for?

For tickets:

*Advanced tickets are recommended as this event is expected to sell out.
*Advanced ticket holders will receive their tickets at the event, no tickets will be mailed.
*This is a family friendly event– children under the age of 12 free

I was driving to a New Years Eve show in Alpine, Texas, thinking about what I wanted to do with the record that I was about to record two weeks into 2011 (the album that is hopefully now bouncing off of your eardrums). As the last sun of 2010 was making its way across the sky during my seven-hour drive I hatched a plan: I would write a novel. Now, I realize the term “novel” can sound pretty pretentious, so if it makes you feel any more comfortable, we can call it a book. It was the first word that popped into my head, however, so I’ll stick with that for lack of a better one. I’ve done quite a bit of freelance writing in the past—things like biographies for other musicians and articles for BMI’s trade magazine MusicWorld—but I’ve never attempted anything in long form. I knew that if I was going to do this it couldn’t just be a passion project. I knew it had to somehow support what it is that I do best, which is writing songs and recording them.

So, with that thought in mind, and after recording what is in my opinion my strongest record by several miles, I sat down to write. Three months later I finished it.

Here’s how it plays out, in the shortest explanation that I can muster:

Dan Murphy is a fictional songwriter. He heads out for a three-week tour of the west. You see the world through his eyes, hear it with his ears, experience it by way of his touch, taste, and feel. He picks up little bits of inspiration on his journey, and after every five or six chapters in the book you get to see what the songwriter has made of these inspirational nuggets through his craft in the form of the lyrics of a song. There are ten songs in this book. They are the same ten songs on the record. It will be released on the same day as (and shares the same title of) the album, and it will be available in paperback, ebook, and audiobook* formats.

My apologies. This didn’t end up being a very short word at all.

* Rather than narrating the lyrics, we inserted the songs from the album in their place to bring the entire project together. As far as google can tell me, I don’t think anyone has done this before. I think (and hope) it’s a truly original idea.

I hope you love it.

In the corner a man is hunched over something he is holding between his legs.

At first, I think he’s in pain—as if he is trying to press a throbbing hand between his knees to relieve the burden of its injury—but then he looks up at me and he smiles.

He has been inspecting the underside of what is about to become a boot sole.

“Just making sure it’s perfect,” he says behind his wide grin.

Chava Guevara has been making boots for more than 35 years this way—inspecting every centimeter of his subject before moving on to his next task, hour upon exacting hour, until finally he holds in his hand a completed, and perfect, boot.

For years he’s been making boots for the rich and for the famous.

And he still is.

But there’s something different about these new boots—something that, while he’s been making boots this way for the better part of three and a half decades, makes these boots—boots that came into being by passing through Chava’s worn, calloused hands—unlike any other boots he’s made before.

For the first time Chava is making these boots in a space that is completely his own.

Welcome to Chava’s Boot Shop.

————————————————

Music plays over a tiny stereo in the opposite corner of the similarly sized room.

My music.

Marcus Coronado is working away behind his sewing machine, stitching the fourth and final carefully spaced line of thread into a chocolate brown colored length of buffalo hide.

“I always listen to this kind of music when I’m working—nothing else,” he says. “These are your boots, so today we’re listening to your music. Letting your music help us make them. Isn’t that right Chava?”

Chava looks up again and smiles.

I met Marcus two years ago in Blaine’s Pub—a bar that I’ve played probably more than any other bar in the world—in San Angelo, Texas. I had just finished playing a show and he called me over to a table where he was sitting with three of his friends. After his offering and my accepting a bought beer, Marcus and I spent the next hour or so talking about music and talking about boots. He was working for the power company, but recently, he’d been turned on to boot stitching. Thankfully he had an uncle who knew a boot maker, and that boot maker had agreed to show him the ropes. And so, here he was, just dipping a toe through the surface of an entirely new world.

Boot making isn’t usually the kind of thing someone likes to talk to me about after a show. Usually, it’s a conversation about music or travel. If the person I’m talking to is really jazzed up, chances are it’s a conversation about the guitar that he or she just bought, and if I had any tips to help them speed up the learning process.

Marcus was jazzed up.

“Drew, listen. My buddies are going to be having a big cook-off in a few months. Do you think you might want to play it?” he asked.

I said I would… for a pair of boots.

Mostly, I said that because I wanted to support Marcus in his dream of making boots. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy, and I love seeing that kind of enthusiasm—about anything—in a person. I didn’t expect anything to come of it as far as footwear goes, but I did expect to play a cook-off in the near future.

Turns out the exact opposite ended up happening.

The cook-off never came together, and yesterday afternoon, sporting a handwritten ‘0002’ just inside of a fourteen-inch top, I was handed a pair of custom boots made by Chava Guevera and stitched by Marcus Coronado.

“It’s the second pair of boots out of the shop,” Marcus explained.

The boots were unbelievable. Perfect, pristine, and completely suiting for a guy like me.

“And you listened to my music while these were made?” I asked again.

“Yep,” said Marcus, “the whole time.”

There are songwriters all over the planet who spend hours a day listening to, and then trying to recreate the music of those who have come before them—those who have inspired them to sit down and take up the craft. Some of them will try to write a handful of songs and move on to something else. A fewer number will dabble here and there when their muse allows for the distraction as they live a lifetime made more full by the presence of music.

Fewer still end up making a living through those songs.

The Guy Clark’s and Susan Gibson’s and Walt Wilkins’ and Todd Snider’s of the world are the types of people that, once upon a time, helped put mental steel against sonic rock as a younger me discovered a passion for music as it was ignited by a spark that only they could have created. That spark—the same that burned hot for so many other thankful would-be craftsmen—was alive and burning here, in Chava’s Boot Shop in San Angelo, with the Master Boot Maker presiding over it. I watched as the results of the studying of two separate crafts—of knowledge handed down both directly and indirectly from generation to generation, from opposite sides of the art world—met face to face. Heel to heel. Soul to sole. The lowly student of Clark and Wilkins—his early attempt at reaching for their stars playing over two small and dusty speakers—falls upon the ears of the humble student of Chava Guevara as he stitches his way through the hours. The old Master sitting in the corner of a tiny room, himself working as tirelessly as his pupil, ready to guide and opine when needed…. just as my old Guy Clark records continue to do for me.

It’s the kind of thing that would make you proud if someone called you a craftsman—knowing that there are people like these in the world who share the same title. It’s a title that can’t be earned without patience and perseverance, without knowing and eventually growing from your frustrations along the way.

Calling Guy Clark a craftsman songwriter is a complement that carries with it quite a lot of weight when you actually know a few real life craftsmen.

Perhaps one day I’ll count myself lucky enough to be in their company.

I’d imagine we’d have a secret handshake.

We craftsmen, that is.

I’d bet mine would always give me away, though.

One firm grip to the work-hardened hand of a fellow craftsman and its owner would look down at mine and probably smile.

“Soft. You of the Songwriters Guild, I reckon?”

“That’d be me,” I’d say.

****like Chava’s Boot Shop on facebook by clicking here****

I’ll begin my update with the usual weather related banter, but this time I’ll give you two versions to use, depending on your geographical location:

1.) Boy, has it been dry, or what?

2.) Boy, has it been wet, or what?

If you live close to where I live, you’re probably going with #1.
If you live anywhere else in the United States, probably #2.

But enough of that– regardless of where you are, I hope that you are safe and comfortable.

Summer is almost here, and with it comes something new and exciting- touring.
Wait… that’s not new… or particularly exciting… but, well, it’s what I’m going to be doing.

The record is finished, and it sounds awesome.
The book is finished, and it looks, uh, I think it’s good… it looks like a book, so there’s that.

They’ll both be coming out in October… that’s a tentative date, so if you’re going to write all over your calendar proclaiming that month “The Month Of Drew” or “Fresh Water In The Salton Sea Weeks” I suggest you do it in pencil. For now.

Why so long of a wait?

Well, these things take time. I have to get everything all wrapped up together so that it falls into place at precisely the right moment. That’s hard enough with an album– add the book into the mix, and it’s even harder. So, you know, no rush.

I’m shooting for the old “absence of a new record makes the heart grow fonder” adage here, but I’m trying to make it all new-age by adding “and book” into it. No word on if it’ll be accepted by the people who officiate the acceptance of these kinds of sayings.

I’ve got quite the busy schedule lined up, and with the exception of my FIRST EVER NON WORKING VACATION SINCE MY HONEYMOON in the middle of June (no, I’m not excited in the least, why do you ask?) I’ll be hitting the road as I always do– non-stop and mostly on my own. There are a few band shows here and there– June 24th at River Road Ice House comes to mind– but mostly it’ll be just me out there beating down the miles.

In a couple of weeks Jason Eady and I will hit the road for a mini-tour that will take us up through New Mexico and into a little bit of Colorado before returning back to Texas– if you’ve made it all the way through cyberspace to this site, I think you probably can manage finding those dates if you are interested, so I won’t spell them out for you. Eady has a new record coming out sometime soon as well– I hear tell it’s pretty fantastic. Keep your ears out for that one as well.

OK, you all keep doing what you’ve been doing and I’ll quit bothering you.

OH, I have some holes in my calendar right now in July and August. They probably won’t be there for long, but if you’re interested in a private house concert, shoot an email to info@drewkennedymusic.com and we’ll work it out. I’d love to come and play some songs for you and your friends.

As always, thanks for supporting the hardworking troubadours of this land. We love you for it.

Alrighty then

dk