Nashville Songwriters Association International has been a huge part of my life since I joined as a member in 2016 and especially as a coordinator in 2019. I talk a lot about the advocacy this organization does for music rights, but it’s also been foundational in helping me build a regular creative practice and hone my voice artistically. At first that meant “finishing” demos once a month in order to have something to share at the meetings. Later I started incorporating habits and techniques I learned from pro writers and other members. Today this is a group of trusted friends whose tastes I respect, who know my sensibilities and hold me to a standard of integrity in my work.
So it was bittersweet this past March at Tin Pan South, knowing it would be my last coordinator retreat. I decided to step down from my role with the Pittsburgh chapter in order to be where my feet are in Chicago and make room for someone who could keep the local community connection alive. I’ll still attend online meetings and hopefully put together a few shows with Pittsburgh friends. I’ve also started attending the Chicago chapter meetings. I’m a little shy but it’s so nice to be just a member, similar to how it’s been nice to be just a player at Howl Chicago. It feels really good to be a small fish in a larger pond, entering a phase of learning again.
Before we left the coordinator retreat, our director passed out paper slips for a bonus feedback session, so long as we wrote from the prompt provided. I drew “a phone call” and immediately felt my stomach drop in dread, knowing what I had to write about. There was a time when songwriting was a very idealistic and poetic venture for me. I fear that time is gone. Right now I am primarily interested in honesty; being unapologetically myself, even when it’s embarrassing and morally dubious. I wrote this in bed in my notes app, with no contact lenses and my phone three inches away from my face, so there aren’t a lot of scribbles on the page; only a couple tweaks when I was working out the phrasing.
I scrambled to finish this demo before the deadline and of course I wouldn’t exactly call it “finished”. The arrangement and transitions need more meat and I don’t love the synth solo; it’s just the best of three takes with the first patch I grabbed (it should probably be a guitar solo anyway). For the sake of showing process, I’m also sharing the voice memo work tape I recorded on the day I wrote it. With piano alone it hits like a ballad and feels forlorn; that’s not the emotion I wanted to convey but it is interesting. I love hearing these stages from other artists, so maybe you’ll like them too. KM
You Can Call Me
My window faces east
The sun can’t even sneak up on me
There’s a crick in the left side of my neck
‘Cause I dozed off on the couch again
Five messages sent at 4am
The time difference makes no difference
You can call me
When the bars close
On the walk home
From your other phone
You can call me
‘Cause I know
How little you like to be alone
You like to laugh at me
Why do I pick up, you’re annoying
You’ll destroy me, maybe that’s true
A parade of red flags, all I see is blue
I used to wonder where you are
Now I know but I still wonder when you’ll call
You can call me
When the bars close
On the walk home
From your other phone
You can call me
‘Cause I know
How little you like to be alone
Don’t let me go
I said what I said
There’s lots of kinds of love
And I meant all of them
And if you’re drunk
And you forget
I’ll tell you again
Tell you again
You can call me
Please call me
This window faces south
The balcony curves like the corners of your mouth
How did we get here, I’ll never believe
But I get the feeling that you’re stuck with me
You can call me
When the bars close
On the walk home
On your actual phone
You can call me
‘Cause I know
How little we like to be alone
Please call me
And if you’re drunk
And you forget
I’ll tell you again
Tell you again