Errant Ghosts

I posted the picture below on Instagram a few days ago with the caption “you’re judged by the company you keep.” And sure, it’s a pretty dumb picture, an objectively unnecessary contribution to an internet filled with nerdy dudes posing with ironic accoutrement. But for me, the sentiment’s profound. The real gift of 2018’s been abandoning self-seriousness, what I’d previously considered an incurable malady. It turns out, there’re a whole lot of lionhearted badasses in my life, something you tend to miss when everything’s so goddamn important, and it feels like I’m finally meeting them on their level.

It’s funny how something can burn in your mind like silver fire one minute, and the next be there, but only just, like an errant ghost. As I’m prepping to become a merry nomad again, I’m grateful for having let go of so much, and welcoming in new dreams.

Kindred Spirits

Fantastic day with Gideon Klein, Gabe Klein, and Trey McDermott, getting a last minute recording/video session in for new solo tunes. My plan’s to release one video and song each month while the Al Stone band’s on tour. Inspiring vibes today, reaffirming that my tunes belong in the world, however humbly.

A lot’s made of the impossibility of our industry. In previous posts, I’ve used words like “kooky” and “bizarro,” largely to assuage my own fear, but the reality’s infinitely more formidable. So much is out of our control. But what we can do is keep ourselves busy - book recording sessions, photo shoots, whatever really, with talented kindred spirits, and get to the business of telling our own story. On bad days, the previous sentence reads like a feel-good bromide, creating the illusion of my having my shit together. But on better days, like today, I feel up for anything, like the specter of uncertainty’s just a merry nomad with an ear to lend.

Couldn't Hurt to Try

One week! Oh yes, one week until I leave on a jet plane, knowing full well when I'll be back again but excited none the less. First stop, Australia, to celebrate a good friend’s wedding, playing some rock and/or roll, and see family. Should I encounter a Sydney Funnel-Web spider, evidently the continent’s most dangerous, I’m sure my encyclopedic knowledge of the Police’s catalogue will come in handy. 

Today’s been spent packing, cleaning, organizing, trying to stay ahead of the game in anticipation of a lunatic week filled with marathon recording sessions, guest spots in gothic country shows, rock operas, and podcasts with some of my favorite people. I’m gonna collapse into my middle seat from BNA to LAX a contented ne’er-do-well. 

It’s time. I’ve been off the road for too long, and it’s made me weird(er). It’s time to take the music to the people, and I know my comrades aboard the Al Stone pirate ship are just as ready. 

We’re all older, marginally wiser, and have a bunch of cool stuff happening individually these days outside of the band. Loyal MoaT readers (thank you) know what I’m up to, and I’d like to share with you this. My fellow stage lefter, Steve Swatkins, aka Swatkins, is the best talkbox player in the world, and his band Swatkins and the Positive Agenda are poised for big things. Their debut single makes me happy, and I know it’ll bring a smile to your face, too.

Episode 18 - Director Steve

Trevor Larkin Talks and Listens #18 is live!

Director Steve (aka Steve Condon) is a music video director to the stars, social media and branding consultant, and co-founder of The 10:10 Creative in Nashville TN.

Thanks to YouTube, Vimeo etc, music videos are more relevant than ever, effectively supplanting terrestrial radio. Billboard even factors in video streams while determining chart positioning. So, you don't want some schmuck behind the camera, and Steve's one of the best in the country music world (check out his work with Old Dominion, for a start). I've been wanting to sit down with Steve for a while, and this podcast's filled with nourishing and sardonic bits of wisdom.

Video!

iTunes!

And, as of a few days ago, my Patreon page! More on this tomorrow.

Assclown Distraction

Today, I had an encouraging meeting with a young booking agent working for a major agency. She was upbeat, inexorably positive, excited about the entrepreneurial potential within our loony industry, and appropriately dismissive of the status quo. I told her how much I appreciated her candor, and how refreshing it is speaking with someone from a big company who’s stoked on the future rather than bemoaning the absence of Lobster Thermidor at every meeting. After a trying few days, it was a breath of fresh air.

I’m reminded to surround myself with badasses. Yes, there are capricious rat-bastards in the music business, and yes, there are multitudes whose hearts are gone, and that’s sad. But there are a whole lot of folks fighting the good fight (my phrase of choice lately). It’s on us to seek these people out, buy them smoothies, and team up against cynicism - the enemy of all things audacious and wonderful. 

It's not your fault that guy over there's an assclown. It's really not. Don't let said assclown distract you from the good stuff, which in my case right now is old school Megadeth, a home cooked meal, and welcoming change with open arms.

CHEAP TRICK!!!!!

The Delta Rae Revival was exactly what I expected, which is to say mind blowing - if you live in Nashville or near enough, ie the lower 48, you HAVE TO SEE THIS SHOW. I won’t spoil it for you, aside from saying they brought out fucking Cheap Trick(!) as a special guest and I lost my goddamn mind. CHEAP TRICK!!!! I mean, I can’t imagine they’ll bring out Cheap Trick every Wednesday, but a metal nerd can dream, and knowing my friends I’m sure each show will be filled with equally devil-horn-worthy surprises. Band’s like Delta Rae don’t come around very often. They’re fighting the good fight, and it’s inspiring.

I’m lucky having friends doing their thing at a high level, and rather than being envious I’m excited to discover where my ceiling is. I mean, I know I’m not slacking, but I'm ready to do more, and with greater intention. How would it feel doing the things I say I’m gonna do 100% of the time? Pretty sweet, I bet. 

The timing for the Allen Stone Band tour’s perfect - momentum, excitement, full Rock and Roll McDonald’s mode, and within that obsessively redlining my creativity, output, and (hopefully) endearing weirdness. 

Delta Rae Revival

Every Wednesday from tonight until the end of the year, Delta Rae will be performing at the Basement in Nashville. From what little I know about the show (they've been annoyingly hush-hush), it’s going to be ambitious, equal parts performance art and celebration of their deep catalogue. I'm heading to the venue in a few mins and can't wait to find out.  

I’m proud of my friends. The music business is one where bandwidth gets exhausted quickly. Expectations from managers, labels, publicists, booking agents and, of course, fans, can compound to an overwhelming degree, and it takes unique conviction to speak up over the din and say look, here’s the vision, this is what we want and here’s how we’re going to do it. 

Delta Rae’s killing the game. They have the industry machine behind them, and therefore every excuse to coast and scapegoat, which is a beguiling path in such a bizarro world. And they don’t. They’re telling the big shots where to aim, not a stance always encouraged by the powers that be. Kudos to my pals for being visionary badasses, and for takin' no shit.

Check out their website. Watch their latest music video, stream their tunes, and of course come to a Delta Rae Revival show. The Rick and Morty closing credit says it best, and goddammit who doesn't like a bow tie? 

Everybody Is A Genius

This year's been about embracing who I am and telling my story, imperfectly and without pretense. On balance, it's been a good ride, but there've been more than a few days like today, where I'm feeling on shaky ground. Here's a classic quote attributed to Einstein, one I reference often when I'm feeling dumfounding and inexplicable, if only to myself. 

The Ballad of Big Country, Continued

My neighbor Big Country is celebrating Labor Day exactly how you’d expect - sloshing moonshine onto the driveway, slurred, non-sensical ramblings punctuated by aggressive flatulence. He’s throwing scraps of bacon to his dog, Little Country, and complaining about my other neighbor, Don. “Sumbitch won’ say a goddman word t’me,” says Big Country, “he’s lower’n a snake’s belly in a wagon rut.”

Big Country stands like a teapot against our shared fence. “I’ve been thinkin,” he says.

"Go on," I say, bracing for impact. 

“Well, I’ve heard people ask ‘are we human cause we look at the stars, or do we look at the stars cause we’re human?’ Shit, that’s stupid. Do the stars look back? That’s the question.”

With that, he hawks a fat gob of god knows what in the general direction of his weathered Tennessee Titans cup and waddles away, braying atonally at Little Country, who knows to follow.

I’m often left gobsmacked by Big Country. He’s most likely absorbed in bizarro internet porn, but I’d like to think he stares upward, from time to time, into the dark sky and watches the infinite dance of the stars. Either way, he got me thinking, as he usually does. 

I imagine if the stars did look back, suspended for so long above the world, watching the scrambling and the joy and the pain of the people below them, they’d smile gently, finding it funny every time another little human considered themselves the center of their world.

Double Middle Digits

I’m luxuriating into my final couple weeks here in Nashville, ahead of the game planning-wise for the tour, excited to meet head on this undefined but inevitably exciting next chapter. 

I’ve been getting a fair amount of email regarding this “next chapter” business, so let me clarify - I’m still very much part of the Allen Stone team and have every intention of sharing the stage with my brothers-in-arms for the foreseeable future. But these other sides of me - songwriting, explorations through conversation, and prose writing - I’ve largely kept to myself until recently. And I’ll be sharing songs again in earnest this Fall, the podcast hits the road with the band, and the MoaT’s not stopping anytime soon.

Not too long ago, I would’ve fought back against calmness. I’m missing something, clearly, and shouldn’t I be working harder, better, smarter? I realize now that, yes, I am, and I suppose I could be, sure. 2018’s been about shifting focus away from global domination and towards the almost imperceptible clues from the universe that I’m not fucking it all up. They're there, it turns out, and have been for quite some time.

Emboldened to share, and share relentlessly, I couldn’t tell you what’s around the next bend. I can’t wait to find out. 

Make a Friend Smile

Today's been bizarre and stressful, so I sent a friend a picture of some monkeys.

I took it in Bali three years ago at the Ubud Monkey Forest. Hardly Nat Geo worthy, but it makes me happy. And I knew the recipient would get a kick out of it, and making someone else's day's a sure-fire way to ensure your day's pretty great, too.

Many readers of this newsletter are in the music business, which is to say certifiable - if lovable - maniacs, inclined towards hyperbolic, existential dread. I stand proudly among you. And I know when I'm feeling lost, which is often, I don't need "answers." Because I'm not lost, not really. Delicate, overstimulated, a little lonely? Sure. But I remain steadfast in believing my art's worth it. I bet you'd say the same for yourself. 

So, it's not really about the Tony Robbins bullshit - I'm happy leaving that to some douchebag who thinks he can still dunk. I'm all about making a friend smile.

Emerald City

I’m missing Seattle today. It hits me every once in a while, when there've been one too many rainy days in a row, or when I know I’m going on tour for a looooooong time. 

In Seattle, I had a predictable schedule (by musician's standards) and nice apartment, shared with a crazy cat and a woman who loved me - the closest thing to a standard, adult human being existence I’ve experienced. Sure, it wasn’t headlining arenas, but it was a good life. I was happy. 

When the Allen Stone project took off, it caught us all by surprise. I was completely absorbed in the music, the travel, the new friends and connections, and there wasn’t any room, I thought, for a nice apartment, shared with a crazy cat and a woman who loved me. It was all finally HAPPENING. I let my safe and happy life in Seattle drift away.

Whenever I’m back in the Emerald City, I like to rent a car and visit all the places I spent time. I find I drive more slowly by the places where I had my heart broken, or broke someone else’s heart. There’s melancholy, sure, but, increasingly, closure. 

I’m proud that I’m as open to love in my life as I’ve ever been, and unafraid to share my art. Seattle’s where I put the pieces together, and it’ll always feel like home. 

Episode 17 - Casey Wasner

Trevor Larkin Talks and Listens #17 is live!

Casey Wasner's my favorite kinda dude - understated, quick to laugh, and a connoisseur of fun and nerdy stuff. Oh, and he just won a freaking GRAMMY. Along with playing drums in Keb Mo's band for ten years and, when he feels like it, guitar with Robin Ford (the quintessential guitar player's guitar player), it's safe to say Casey's a first degree ninja badass.

We met up at the Purple House, his studio in Leiper's Fork TN, drank beer, and bullshitted in the way road-weary young schmucks do. I was tempted to steal his Grammy watch, but didn't. 

iTunes!

Video!

Marmite

My aunt from South Africa, indeed where all my aunts are from, stopped through Nashville on business a couple days ago and gifted me this shirt. If you’re from the UK, South Africa, Australia, Canada, or the other 50 or so former territories of the British Empire, you appreciate how magnificent this shirt is. If you’re not, please, for my amusement, give a big ol’ spoonful to somebody you don’t like very much and tell them it’s Nutella. 

My family’s strewn about all over the world, mostly in places where spiders can kill you, and it amazes me how well we stay in touch. Kudos to my parents and their siblings for making it a priority, and instilling in the next generation a deep sense of grounding and presence in family. I’m grateful the Allen Stone Band’s global reach allows me to see variously accented Larkins, Brophys and Brunés at least once a year.

When things get crazy, wherever I am in the world, chances are there’s family near by, which means a home cooked meal, cozy bed, and unrelenting psychological manipulation. Makes for a competitive game of Scrabble. 

Sockless Penny Loafers

“Seriousness is the only refuge of the shallow” is another Oscar Wilde quote I enjoy and reference often. 

As professional music types, what we do’s objectively insane, while simultaneously being the single most satisfying way to live one’s life. The cognitive dissonance, at this point, is like slipping into a warm bath. If ever I look at myself in the mirror and my dimpled, jowly countenance isn’t laughing in the general direction of either common sense or someone pursuing the actuarial sciences, well, that’s when I know it’s time for an attitude adjustment, usually courtesy of strolling down 12 South and counting the number of 30-something white guys in sockless penny loafers. The road mercifully not traveled.  

Inside the drudgery, absurdity and discord, there's a ton of fun to be had, and thankfully we’re the ones creating the soundtrack. 

Tokyo Drifting Into the Driveway

Today was a full, happy day, and full, happy days usually conclude with my Tokyo drifting into the driveway while cranking metal at terrifying volume, Mastodon in this case. I’m writing this with still-ringing ears, optimistic that, in all things, loud rock and roll is the answer. 

Had a fantastic podcast with Gideon and Gabe Klein, a hyper-talented production duo here in Nashville, and they spontaneously offered to track a full band one-take video with me, power trio style. I showed them a new tune I wrote called “Neverland,” and away we went. Loud guitars, lots of add9 chords, a John Paul Jones-inspired bass line from Gideon, and Gabe on drums following my direction to a T - you know all that dumb, caveman shit you’d ordinarily get made fun of for playing? Yeah, do that. It was the most fun possible.

Listening back in the control room, I realize I’m digging the minute flaws and idiosyncrasies that make up 2018 Trevor. There’s a human being there, brimming with flummoxing, unwarranted confidence, but his aim’s true. 

Oscar Wilde said it best, as he usually does - be yourself, everyone else is taken.

William Byrd

Inspired by my recent Jacob Collier rabbit hole, I’ve been digging into William Byrd these past few days. Don’t feel bad if you haven’t heard of him, he’s not a SoundCloud artist, YouTube sensation, or in Kanye’s entourage. In fact, he’s dead. And I mean REALLY dead. Like punching out in 1623 dead. 

Anyway, Byrd wrote all kinds of inspired stuff during the Renaissance, and his choral work’s especially amazing. Here’s a link to Mass in Four Voices, the King’s Singers. It’s haunting, intricate, and hypnotic, a welcome counterbalance to the Slayer I was blasting earlier.

And if that doesn’t sell it, YouTube commenter Royce Zaro, from two years ago, is correct - at 9:23, it does sound like they’re singing “genitals on fire.”

Nothing like a relaxing Sunday afternoon eating jellybeans and listening to choral music from the 1590’s. This is what you're missing, ladies.

Episode 16 - Tom Beaupre

Trevor Larkin Talks and Listens #16 is live!

Tom Beaupre is a producer, financial consultant, and the bass player for Florida Georgia Line. He's a stellar human, always a pleasure catching up and swapping stories. 

I'm grateful so many kindred spirits are entering my orbit. Maybe it's the excitement I'm feeling about my own whacky adventures - whatever the reason, it's energizing, and I can't wait to take the show on the road this fall. A new chapter's on the horizon - still nebulous, but comin' in hot - and this podcast's helping me meet the evolution with an enthusiastic hello, gaining perspective through conversation, eager to see what's around the next shadowy bend.  

Video!

iTunes!

Rock Operas

Today was a busy and surreal day. Spock's Beard? Transatlantic? Never heard of 'em? Doesn't surprise me. But you certainly have if you're a progressive rock nerd, and the maniac behind these bands is a dude named Neal Morse, a legend in the prog rock community and personal musical hero of mine.

Turns out, he lives in Nashville, and there's a thriving prog rock community here. Of course he does, and of course there is. He knows who I am, which makes pimply, teenaged Trevor very very happy, and asked me to sing(!) is his latest rock opera for MorseFest. Yes, there's a progressive rock festival in Nashville named after a guy you've never heard of that attracts thousands of odd-time-signature-clapping, doomed-to-be-single dudes. Hits a little close to home, but I proudly count myself among them.

First rehearsal was tonight, and it went well. I have a deep love for this bizarre, nerdy music, and it's a welcome detour before heading out with Al Stone and the fellas. 

Why Aren't You Famous?

I just wrapped up a lovely interview, initially about gear used on the upcoming Allen Stone record, then morphing quickly into discussions on travel, our current political climate, and embracing new media. I’m curious how it comes together in print - I don’t envy the editor - and thankfully Nick Bearden and Jamie Lidell forwarded formidable gear lists, so the internet will be appeased. 

“How come you haven’t been interviewed more?” she asks. “Why don’t more people know who you are?”

Right?! Come on, fame and/or fortune. It’s your friend, Trevor. I’VE BEEN HERE THE WHOLE TIME.

But I know what she means, and it's flattering being asked. Honestly, I don’t know why artists become well known, aside from the usual suspects - isn't a sociopath, bathes regularly, etc. I feel our responsibility as creatives is to share the things about which we’re passionate, make sure the fridge is filled with non-condiment food, and let the chips fall where they may. It’s not our responsibility to over-explain ourselves and fit into convenient boxes. After years of knocking on every door imaginable and being told to stay out in the proverbial rain, I’m happy digging what I dig and letting the universe unfold as it should. 

In the meantime, between the Not Famous Podcast, Trevor Larkin Talks and Listens, and the handful of podcasts I’ve guested on, there’s over 70 hours of my talking on the internet. I’ve also released over two albums worth of original music via Spotify and one-take videos on YouTube. There’s plenty of Trevor stuff to look at and listen to if you’re so inclined.

And you guys subscribe to this thing! You're all aces in my book.