...of Trevor Larkin Talks and Listens is live!
Had a fantastic chat with my good pal Josh Dawn, guitarist/songwriter for Nashville rock band Lonelyouth, about band re-branding and a host of other neat music nerdy stuff. Awesome hang with a stellar dude.
It's taken us all by surprise how well the new Allen Stone single's been received. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK THANK YOU!
Inspired by a recent John Mayer post, let's not let digital music kill credits. Here are the legendary maniacs behind the song...
Happy Birthday to my road brother, artistic kindred spirit and dear friend Steve Watkins, aka Steveland Swatkins, aka Swatkins!
For the past half decade in the Allen Stone Electric Ensemble, Stevie and I have shared smiles on stage left, smelled each other’s farts in bunk alley, and exchanged forlorn glances from countless middle seats bound for god knows where. It’s been a joy experiencing my friend blossoming into the artist he is today. His band, the Positive Agenda, is one of the best kept secrets in funk, and maybe if we all hound him via social media he’ll expedite the release of his first single (I’ve heard it, and it’s amazing).
The musician life isn’t always cheerful or well-defined. Public setbacks, wrestling inner demons, industry pressures and a myriad other factors add up to our questioning why we bother in the first place. Chasing all things enigmatic, it’s easy forgetting the important shit: at the end of the day, we choose the companions in our lives, and they’re the ones worth sticking around for.
Thanks for being my pal, Stevie. Here’s to many more trips around the sun and unflattering photos.
Last night at Coda Tremont in Cleveland was, to put in charitably, a lose one.
Especially with solo acoustic shows, I think it’s important acknowledging the inherent ridiculousness of the thing - you’re sitting there, minding your own goddamn business, sipping on a gin and tonic or whatever, and some weirdo starts singing about his feelings via songs you’ve never heard before. But it’s a fine line being endearingly versus distractingly self-effacing, and last night I strayed too far into the latter category. The crowd had a good time, but I came away thinking ok, do you want people to recognize your being a good songwriter or mediocre standup comedian? Ross Livermore, my talented friend who I often do these mini tours with, called me out as well. “Dude, you know your songs are good, right? Maybe, you know, sing more of them next time.” In other words, you’re funny, but not that funny. And he’s right.
I love playing these shows - my old self-defense mechanisms are falling to the wayside. Somewhere, underneath the veneer of apologetic nerdiness, is a James-Bond-with-Scoliosis sorta swine, waiting for his turn with diminishing patience. I think it's time to give that guy the floor.
Another 1 take video for ya!
My good pal Josh Dawn was gracious enough to hang out after we'd finished our podcast and strum some tasty goodness along with a song of mine called "New Angel."
Here's a link to the video, lyrics below...
I know you don't know me, and I guess that's ok
I have no more attention other than fading away
we've all got our stories, or so I've been told
I'll let lunacy linger in every word that I stole
In a future that's bright in the eye of an idle storm
maybe there's a bride to my groom, a new angel in a human form
there's not much to say, if you won't welcome any change and play afraid
I'm not going to give you my word, when my heart's all I have, anyway
who is this stranger who makes you wait, with no rhyme or a reason
when heaven alone will subjugate, and lead you along?
I'm not going to give you my word, when my heart's all I have
I’m moderating a panel at the Music Biz 2018 conference on Monday here in Nashville (10:15-11am at Music Row 5, for those attending). Catered to those just entering the industry, we’ll be discussing five pillars that make up a solid music business foundation - operations, performance, branding, publicity and marketing.
I’m writing this mid-afternoon at the Red Bicycle, having decided to delay the newsletter in order to catch a matinee of the new Avengers movie. It was awesome. I’ve timed my Red Bicycle visit perfectly with their donut turnover, so I’m typing with my right hand and, with my left, shoving free donuts into my face. I’m wearing a thread-bare Bernhoft t-shirt from 2015. I’ve never had a real job.
Clearly, I’m infinitely qualified to moderate a prestigious industry panel. It’s at times like these I’m grateful for Jeremy Hatcher and Trey McDermott, who inspired my launching the Not Famous Podcast and Trevor Larkin Talks and Listens, respectively. I’ve logged 40+ hours of meandering conversations with complete strangers, preserved on the internet forever, so I reckon I’ll hold my own just fine.
You never know when a project or experience will save your bacon, and I’m lucky there’re friends in my life who push my comfort zones. I mean, likely for their own amusement, but turns out there’s something in it for me, too.
Oh, and I'm playing a solo show in Cleveland tomorrow night with my good pal Ross Livermore. Coda, in the Tremont neighborhood. Usual show time. Come hang, Clevelandians!
The day after launching a new project, I always feel drained.
If I release an excessively manicured version of a thing, photoshopped and auto-tuned to perfection, and people don’t like it, I’m not too bothered. That sounds weird, I know. Sure, it’s in theory my best foot forward - my feeble attempt at a beard shadowed just-so and all - but really I'm just bumper bowling. The version of Trevor who’s writing this at the Red Bicycle, realizing mid-key stroke that there’s a large mustard stain on his shirt? That guy’s far removed from the front lines. They may not like the record or whatever, but the real me’s spared significant scrutiny.
And that's why I don't like putting out excessively manicured versions of a thing.
What I’m releasing now in the form of this newsletter, my one-take videos, and now the Trevor Larkin Talks and Listens podcast is the mustard-stained shirt version of myself times a thousand. I keep having these moments of “Jesus Christ, this is it. This is the what I look and sound like. That poor woman who’s agreed to meet me for coffee, this is the schmuck sitting across the table. Wow. Just…wow.”
But the thing is, I really like this guy. Honestly. And he’s, well, me. From a biz standpoint, I can work with me. Me’s easy. No fabrication or embellishment necessary, and hopefully sufficient evidence that I won’t collapse at the 2022 Met Gala in a heap of cocaine-fueled melodrama. And me’s also filled with untapped potential and brimming wells of excitement.
Time to practice, read and listen. Time to pay attention.
After putting the Not Famous Podcast on hiatus last fall due to Jeremy’s exciting new chapter working for Rick Rubin, I knew I wanted to keep the podcast train rolling but needed a little time away from sounding like a buffoon on the internet. With the Allen Stone universe building up momentum again and my life and career seemingly entering a new chapter, it's apt, I think, that I live life out loud and recommit to buffoonery. It suits me, I think.
Click here to subscribe via iTunes, watch the video feed or listen to the SoundCloud audio.
Trevor Larkin Talks and Listens. Ramblings on art, creativity and every tangent these invite.
Excited to see where this lunatic ride takes me.
I caught Andrew McMahon’s Pens and Pianos tour the other night here in Nashville. It was awesome catching up with the guys and hearing Zac and Bobby’s solo tunes live (more on this later). In 2011, Jack’s Mannequin - McMahon’s first post-Something Corporate project - was the first big band to take the Allen camp out on the road. It seems like a lifetime ago.
I could dedicate the rest of the year to anecdotes from those 2011 and 2012 runs with McMahon, Bobby, Mikey and JMac, and I’ll share a few in the coming weeks, but what’s springing to mind this morning’s a conversation McMahon probably doesn’t even remember. I should ask him.
Several years ago, Al Stone and Team's headlining the Paramount Theater in Seattle for the first time. We flew in from Paris the night before, our breaths wreaking of chorizo and razor blade-smooth red wine. Resplendent in our jet-lagged hipster zombiedom, we stagger through the show, bewildered but triumphant.
My excitement’s tempered somewhat by a long-term relationship ending, and rather than throwing back celebratory post-show tequila shots, I’m back at my old apartment, the girl and cat gone, faced with the harrowing task of packing up half the life we’d built together.
It’s a rough couple of days. I cry a lot. At some point during my solitary dirge, it occurs to me I should talk to someone. I don’t call my parents or sister - for whatever reason, I call Andrew McMahon.
I manage a croaky “hey man,” and he knows exactly what’s going on. He’s an intuitive swine, that McMahon. Commandeering the conversation, he talks for about a half-hour about the Lakers, his garage remodel, and his wife's favorite books. I gratefully enter a calmer soul’s orbit.
“Love you buddy,” he says. “You’re gonna be fine.”
The BottleRock festival in Napa’s just around the corner, and I should probably brush up on the Allen material. How does “Fake Future” go again? No, seriously.
It brings me incalculable joy that a former compatriot aboard the Al Stone pirate ship’s reentering the fold for BottleRock. He’s inspired hashtags, culinary revolutions, and dare I say broken a few hearts. Though comfortably ensconced in a respectable adult job these days, he remains the heart and soul of the band, and I wake up every morning hoping to see a two word text from the Great Man: I’m back.
Well, for one night only, he is. BottleRock, bask in the glory that is #whatagoodgreg.
After being sick for the entire month of March and needing all of April to convince myself it’s ok to push my body again, I’m back to running around, playing basketball, lifting weights and being, in general, a more jovial so-and-so.
While doing gym stuff, I put on a rock/punk/metal record and listen through the entire thing - when the record’s over, so’s the workout. Ramones days are sweet and merciful. Tool days are not.
Today’s record was Leaving Through the Window by Something Corporate, an all-time favorite from the early 2000’s pop/punk wave. Andrew McMahon is a special dude. Jack’s Mannequin - his first post-SoCo project - was the first band to take the Allen Stone crew out on a major tour, and he’s been a friend and mentor ever since.
I could wax on about his talent, professionalism and all that kinda jazz, but what struck me most during that initial run was a moment backstage at the Vogue Theater in Vancouver BC. McMahon's paying his electric bill over the phone. He’s polite, disarmingly so, and when the call’s over he puts his feet up and smiles, satisfied and at peace. Now, I’m aware this is far removed from the “cocaine and hookers” stereotype and therefore uninteresting to live vicariously through, but for a clover-green touring douche like myself it was profound. Andrew McMahon, a multi-millionaire who achieved success early in life, the clear boss of a touring party a dozen or so strong, finds solace in quotidian-ass shit.
This kabuki-like existence of traveling the world and playing music is awesome, but life outside the privilaged bubble sustains us. That’s what’s real.
Big Country and I are sitting in my backyard on a sunlit morning. Oh yes, just a youngish, earnest weirdo and toothless, blithering sociopath, caffeinated to the gills, lamenting our being unlucky in love.
I’m sweating through my free t-shirt from the Georgia Theater and offer something predictable in it’s thick-rimmed glasses emo-ness.
-Yeah, you know, when you’re evolving into your higher self the road seems lonely, but you’re simply shedding energies that no longer match the frequency of your destiny.
BC isn’t sweating through anything on account of his being shirtless.
“Shit, I don’t need no woman, got me an electric blanket that keeps me warm in the winter.”
-Yeah, you know, to find peace sometimes you have to be willing to lose the connection with the people, places and things that create all the noise in your life.
“Fuck’n A. I’m movin’ out country, buyin’ land, shootin’ deer and laughin’ all goddamn day.”
-Yeah, you know, I mean sometimes you need a break from everyone and spend time alone to experience, appreciate and love yourself.
“Right. And shoot deer all goddamn day.”
And so on, until Big Country loses interest and discards his now lukewarm coffee into the fire pit.
“Trevor, I don’t know what the fuck it is you do, but I reckon you should keep doing it.”
Farting loudly, he shuffles in the general direction of away from my house, not having been in a hurry since, well, why would you rush anywhere if you possessed all of life’s cheat codes?
If the Great Man decrees it, then it shall be so. I’m gonna keep on keepin’ on.
3 mics (!), 1 take video for ya!
My dear friend Samantha Frances from Frances and the Foundation joins me on this one. After wrapping the first episode of my new podcast (she's guest numero uno), Samantha graciously agreed to arrange vocal harmonies on the spot for a song of mine she'd never heard and perform it with an ignoramus in Trey McDermott's backyard. She is, in a word, legendary. The result's light-hearted, spontaneous and exactly what I want to achieve with these 1 take videos.
Here’s the video, and lyrics below.
SAY HOW YOU FEEL
it’s the strangest thing
how a lie can seek asylum on an angel’s wing
while demons fall like dominoes and crown me king
guess I don’t know the first thing about the world
or this girl
or a siren song
whose melody’s hypnotic as my head is strong
but I will not die a poster child for what goes wrong
when lust as love as loneliness combine
and intertwine
just say how you feel
so I lock my cell
and a heart remains unbroken, but it won’t go well
in a lunatic asylum where the fortunes tell
rumors about the way we used to love
or the lack there of
just say how you feel
I woke up early on account of today being crazy, with every intention of composing a thought-provoking Mind of a Trevor. Instead, I watched John Mulaney’s new comedy special on Netflix, Kid Gorgeous at Radio City.
John Mulaney’s my favorite comedian. New In Town and The Comeback Kid are also amazing (and both on Netflix), but Kid Gorgeous is preposterously hilarious from minute one. It’s a flawless special.
With my singing, songwriting and podcasting (my new podcast’s coming soon!), I’m every bit a novice. It’s humbling to say the least, especially as I’m associated with a successful band and being really good at guitar. My British Colonial self-deprecation defense mechanism prevents me from acknowledging this without shuddering, but I’m American enough to leave that shit in, and maybe even smile a little.
Rather than resting on my laurels I suppose, I’m choosing to tackle projects that betray my being a work in progress. I love it. Watching masters of their craft like John Mulaney inspires me to take chances, grow inexorably and continue being the most bafflingly confident dude with severe scoliosis the hipster R&B world's ever known. Consider the gauntlet thrown down, Old Self!
Every week, I start my day with a different song. It’s usually metal. “Broken, Beat and Scarred” by Metallica, “Walk With Me In Hell” by Lamb of God, “The Grudge” by Tool and “The Trooper” by Iron Maiden are recent selections. That first piece of music invigorates me more than any triple shot ever could (I’m drinking one now so can attest).
I love metal. It’s the first music I discovered on my own and a genre often abandoned under the guise of “maturing.” Fuck that. I love it now more than ever, my driving playlists no doubt aural torture for those raised on graceful Laurel Canyon jams. I adore that stuff, don’t get me wrong, but have you heard “Five Minutes Alone” by Pantera?! Listen to that song when you’re dismayed by my not liking Steely Dan. Go on. I see your inner devil horns rising.
A long-standing argument for foes of the genre is that heavy music causes anger. I dabble in meditation, and what I’ve found is listening to heavy music first thing in the AM puts me in the same headspace as sitting in silence. It focuses my sadness, enhances positive thoughts and helps me explore the full emotional gamut while leaving me feeling more active and inspired. I have, after all, been air-drumming in my underpants for the past ten minutes.
I love all genres of music, always have, and I understand how a circle pit of 300 pound tattooed dudes in cargo shorts might be off-putting. But maybe, just maybe, slip “Paranoid” into your playlist and feel your inner-badass stepping to the forefront. Neil Young’s a patient man. He's happy to wait.
Question 3 of 3!
I’m still figuring this one out. Super ninja manager Jake Udell writes a fantastic daily newsletter offering articulate and timely insight regarding the minutia of this type of thing, whereas I'm about to get day drunk at a minor league baseball game. That said, I'm happy to share what I’m focusing on this year: starting small, being consistent and building incrementally.
On January 1, I decided to write a daily email newsletter. Seemed like a good idea at the time. The first several posts sucked. The tone was too jazz-hands, wink-and-smile, here’s-what-I’m-thankful-for faux hippy drivel. But I kept at it, and now, after four months of writing something everyday, I feel the aesthetic’s somewhat less amorphous. Hooray!
Emboldened by my sticking with the newsletter, I launched a weekly song project, 1 mic/1 take videos. There’re six up so far, and, you know, there’re six up so far. The room for improvement’s obvious, and I’m way into it. Writing songs and sharing them's my favorite thing. So, I’ll be posting every Wednesday until Paul McCartney says “ok, enough, we get it.”
Emboldened by my sticking with the newsletter and weekly song project, I’m launching a solo podcast very soon, maybe next week. If I can follow through on two things I said I was going to do, I’ll likely pull off a third. And, courtesy of the Not Famous Podcast, there’re only 40+ hours of me sounding like an asshole on the internet, which isn’t nearly enough.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had grand plans immediately derailed by self-sabotage and over-thinking. Doing one small project until it feels like second nature, followed by another, then another, seems to be working. My goal isn't amassing the most followers or cracking some code, but rather making a bunch of content available for those who are inclined to find me.
Ok, question 2 of 3 (here’s yesterday’s post for context).
I'm going to teeter on the edge of nauseating cliche for the next couple paragraphs, so bare with me.
Experience has taught me that the “right people” look a whole lot different than you think.
I’m reflecting on my life circa 2010. I was going through a rough patch. The right people, it turned out, were a group of friends who convinced me, over cheap burritos and even cheaper beer, not to quit music. The right people were musicians who invited me to a nondescript jam on Sunday nights at a nautically themed bar in the Wallingford. The right person was a partner who loved me, despite my being an insufferable numb-nuts. Thank god the industry didn’t come calling. I wasn’t ready. Certain relationships have changed since then, but I was and continue to be the luckiest Trevor I know. Learning to trust and embrace love in my life changed everything.
So, appreciate where you are, find the humor therein, and buy a round for the no-doubt righteous motherfuckers who have your back. Start there.
As far as industry goes, my experience with the Al Stone project’s straight out of Field of Dreams: if you build it, they will come. We had zero plan. Jesus Christ, I’m fairly certain Allen had zero pairs of underwear at the time. But we didn’t know any better, so we kept on keeping on. The band grew organically (even though I hate that fucking term), and when the time was right the industry came to us. One of life’s great pleasures is sitting across from label executives, your over-sized Hawaiian shirt flecked with bits of crab leg, listening to their sales pitch. And the “right people” probably aren’t these clowns, by the way. Order another mojito.
When you're in the trenches, "be patient" is the last thing you want to hear, but there really are no short cuts if the thing's going to stick. Share your art, relentlessly, obnoxiously even. And, above all, keep on keeping on.
I’ve been receiving lots of questions via email lately, glad you guys are getting something out of this newsletter! Keep 'em coming.
Yesterday, a three part question hit my inbox which I’ll address over the next couple posts.
Honestly? No. Probably not. At least not yet.
I travel all over the world, lucky swine that I am, and every major city has a pretty cool music scene. Provided there's an internet connection, you can share your art with whomever from wherever, never spending a minute in Santa Monica traffic or bankrupting yourself on rent.
Take the Allen Stone project. We formed in Seattle, a town steeped in musical tradition but as far removed from the industry as I am from the NBA. And thank god: we could make mistakes and figure out who we were without unsavory pressure from assorted reptilian douchebags. On paper, the band doesn’t make a lick of sense, and I’m sure someone would’ve tried to fuck with the chemistry had we formed in Silverlake or Williamsburg rather than Wallingford. Through trial and error, we gradually built momentum, discovered touring, stuck with it and fortunately broke through.
Where can you create most freely? Where do you feel supported? Where are you happy? If the goal’s a sustainable career making great art, these are questions worth asking.
I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, when it was time to move to Nashville. The universe has a way of guiding your hand when you're ready. But in order to get there, it's all about maximizing potential where you’re at. More on this tomorrow…
I received an email a couple weeks ago asking to share my thoughts on recording. When is a track done? How important are the “sprinkles?” If you can’t perform them live, are they worth having at all?
If brevity's your thing: 1.) it's subjective 2.) potentially very 3.) absolutely, unless they're not.
For the more stalwart...
This is a great question and invites a wide range of answers. Personally, I’ve run the gamut of recording experience - everything from one-take wondering and the attendant euphoria to folding in on myself after take nine hundred and eight, tear-soaked lyric sheet crumbled into neurotic origami.
Keep in mind I'm an ignoramus, but here's an in-studio check list that works for me, ie it’s short.
I told you it was a short list. Make your record and share your art. I can’t wait to hear it.
Another 1 mic, 1 take video for ya! Lyrics below, and here's a link to the video.
GUARDIAN
such is the way in a lonely day
when everything’s impossible
you start falling in love with the you you used to know
ignorant bliss, a Seattle kiss
in love, you’re evangelical
selling it door to door, but no one’s home
those lying angels, with the same old story
I know what you need
no rhyme or reason, no pride and glory
and know what you need
I’m a guardian
and we need anger more than irony
we’ll cover the cost of being young and lost
with finer things and wedding rings
we’ll call it a rose by any other name
but the truth in the lie’s, even though we’ll try
we’ll never know the status quo
I don’t believe you believe me anyway
those lying angels, with the same old story
I know what we need
no rhyme or reason, no pride and glory
and know what we need
I’m a guardian
and we need anger more than irony
what’s left of the line
bold and blurry at the same time