The Zenith of Zion: A Q&A with Dallas Kruse

            In a dark alleyway just off the Sunset Strip in Los Angeles, Dallas Kruse—owner and operator of Zion Studios in Costa Mesa—and I huddle against a brick wall for our first official meet and greet.  He had loaded up his truck and trailer, with his renowned Hammond organ inside, in order to play the perfect padding for Jameson at the famous Hotel Café just down the way later in the evening.  His amiable smile, clever persona, and ability to jump into a situation with no trepidation made me realize why so many Orange County and Los Angeles artists choose to work with the multifaceted musician. 

Are you from Orange County originally?

Dallas Kruse:  My mom’s side of the family is from Texas, and I was born and raised in Orange County, but most of my family is back in Anberlin, Texas.

How did your parents end up out here?

My mom came out here to marry my dad.  Just a classic love story.  My dad was a minister for 30-40 years and I grew up in church, and that’s where the music thing started.  My grandmother was a choir director, and as a kid, I would listen to all this Black gospel—real soulful music, you know?  She had a large choir of 50 to 60 voices and a big band with a Hammond B3.  That’s where the music thing was instilled.

Did your grandmother teach you how to conduct?

No, I would just watch.  She wasn’t necessarily formally schooled in it, but all of my aunts—my dad’s sisters—sang and they would always be at the house rehearsing and I’d always hear harmony.  It was one of those things, it was always engrained, and I loved it.  I kind of grew up listening to Motown and Soul and my mom’s really attached to that style of music, so that’s where that style that I love so much came from.

When did you officially get into music?

I was playing sports, and I was going to run track.  I ran track for USA Track & Field, and then I had a bad injury.  When I was 18 or 19 was when I got heavily into music.  I went to junior college at Santa Ana College and studied all my theory, and then started getting into more arranging for orchestras and things like that, and that piece fell in.  From there, I just got into full-time music.  It started with a bedroom studio, and then it went to the garage, and then it went to my parent’s garage, and then now I have the full studio in Orange County near the Ikea over on Harbor, Zion Studios.

How did you know it was the right time to open the studio?

I kind of had to, because I was doing albums in this detached garage that my parents had.  We would do drums early on Saturday morning—the only time that we could do drums.

I’m sure the neighbors loved you.

Yeah, I know…  My parents were tearing down that building, and I lived in Ladera Ranch in an apartment, and my lease was coming up.  It just so happened that my dad was out looking at some property, and there was an empty warehouse that was available.  It was one of those things that the timing was right, and I thought, ‘I’m just gonna go for it.’  It was sort of a big jump, but it’s been good.

Tell me more about the artists that you have worked with pre-studio.

I was the ‘Music Minister’ leader and choir director for my dad for seven years, and then when I left that is when I went more into the production aspect, but I had been doing a lot of arranging. I started getting into strings and started writing for string sections, and then getting more into the production end of it.  I’ve been doing that since 2000, and then working with bands literally in my apartment or garage.

Were you recording with tape or digital?

Mainly digital.  A: because of the money for upkeep on analog gear is ridiculous, and bands can’t really afford that type of stuff, and the flexibility of being able to do that in a small apartment is tough.  There were times where we would be recording guitars and the neighbors would come over and say, ‘Yeah, can you turn it down?’  So I was doing that, and then just working with bands and bands.  More singer/songwriters would come to me to add stuff to the record, and then it became people asking, ‘Can you take on the record?  Can you do production?’  Which was great, but it’s just one of those things where you don’t realize how big of a chunk that is until you really get into it.  But I absolutely love it, and I wouldn’t rather be doing anything else.

You certainly seem to be the jack-of-all-trades when it comes to using instruments.  When did you discover your multi-talents?

Honestly, it was one of those things of necessity.  And again, it goes back to the church thing, where my dad’s piano player and choir director—they were married—left the church and he didn’t have anybody.  At the time, I didn’t know how to play, but it was one of those things where, for some reason, I wanted to learn how to play.  I would sit down for hours on end, just to figure out the piano, and just do that.  It was like a moth to a flame for me.  I couldn’t get enough of it.  And then it was a thing like, someone needed a sub on drums or whatever, and I would try.  It just kind of happened.  I don’t think it was necessarily anything that was planned out, it was just one of those things that kind of fell into place.  Don’t get me wrong, everything is a blessing to be attached to really good artists, and to play for different people and arrange for them, or play drums or keys for whomever.  I never went out like, ‘Here I am.’  It’s more of a thing where it just fell into place.  It’s a weird thing.

The focus is on meeting, connecting, and making music magic.

Yeah it’s like…well it’s not always magic.  Sometimes it’s more of a cluster.  I think it’s one of those things like, if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.  If it’s the right thing, then it comes naturally.

I feel like a lot of music is that way.  It comes effortlessly sometimes.  It may be intricate, it may be simple, but it falls just right.

It’s not a struggle.  It shouldn’t be work.  Sometimes, obviously, when you’re writing for the orchestra or whatever, yeah that’s work.

But you should be enjoying it—and the emotions associated—honestly.  How else could you truly enjoy it?

Exactly.  When you play out and other people see you, you start networking and making connections.  I enjoy playing out, and for a while it seemed like it was with a different band every night.

You have a big instrument to carry around, right?

Yep, I carry around a trailer for the Hammond.  I enjoy the studio work, that is where I feel at home.  I love it, we try to make it as homey as possible, so it doesn’t feel like a warehouse, or cold and sterile.  People want to feel comfortable when they’re recording.  And there are plenty of bottles of whiskey lying around.

What are you working on currently?

Right now, I’m working with an artist from Costa Rica and Portland.  I’m doing her second record, and her name is Annie Bethancourt.  She’s done some really great things.  She’s a phenomenal singer/songwriter.  Lyrically and vocally she’s awesome.  In between when we started and when she’s coming back—she’s in Portland right now—I’m doing a new project with Barrett Johnson and Doll Knight called The Ultimate Bearhug.  I love this project, and it makes you fall in love.  I think Doll’s charisma and vocal talent, and Barrett’s writing—they have something special, something golden there.  We’re at the back end of their record, we just need to go up to LA and do all the live strings, then I’ll start to mix it.  Then when Annie comes back, we’ll start up again.  I also just booked with a band called The Devious Means.  I had actually never seen them play live, but they came into the studio and we kinda had a vibe meeting to see if we were on the same page.  I’m doing a six-song EP with them starting in September.  So, Bearhug, Devious Means, Annie, and then tomorrow I start working with a guy named David Ryan Harris, who is the guitarist for John Mayer.

Have you been working with Billy Kernkamp?

He recently put the bug in my ear, and I’m ready for his second record.  It’s funny because the first record, he didn’t have a band established yet.  I hired in studio musicians—Jameson played some, Mikey Hachey my bassist, and Jorgen Ingmar played on some.  Now Billy is carving out his sound a bit better, and I think his second record, when he brings the material, it’s going to be more Billy, you know?  Of course I work with Jameson in the studio a lot, so it’s good, there’s so much talent in Orange County—great songwriters.

They are many out there who fail to recognize that.

The scene might not be great, as far as where you can go from Orange County, but the people in Orange County are talented, you know what I’m saying?  In order to get out to the world, you have to branch out, you have to come to LA, you have to go do Austin.  But as far as the talent level, I feel like the only downside of artists in Orange County is keeping their eyes focused on staying in Orange County, which is great, but as far as the bigger picture goes, you have to get out.  With Barrett and Doll and Jameson, there are some wickedly talented people.

I feel fortunate to get to observe that talent.

That’s what I meant when I said it’s such a blessing to be around such talent.  I feel like, as a producer, that’s your role to pull the best out of them, and put your ideas in to help water the seed.

Do you see yourself producing full-time for good?

Hopefully.  I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else other than music.  Hopefully everything will continue to progress, and grow and grow, and I’ll really establish the studio as kind of a hub for people of LA to get away, and people of Orange County to grow.  There are a few little studios in Orange County, and a few bigger studios, but I feel like with the talent that we have around, and the network and community that we have, I hope I would be a resource, and the studio would be a resource for people to produce their projects.

I enjoyed the live video that was shot at Zion Studios.  Is that something you always do?

I think that can be something good for the future.  With the proliferation of YouTube and everyone’s websites, video is such a good medium.

The videos from The Ultimate Bearhug seemed very clean and official.

That’s something that we’ve actually talked about doing, is opening up for bands to produce live performances and video live performances.

With the digital advances, many ‘musicians’ can cheat with their recordings.  To see live videos played perfectly like those is encouraging.

With real singers, real musicians, you can do that.  I’m so glad you said that, and don’t get me wrong ‘cause there is some pop music out there that is guilty pleasure of mine, but like you said, with the technology change, people still want to see real talent.  You want to see something that you can’t do.  You want to see something that is inspiring.  So that’s something that we’re maybe looking to do is purchase some great cameras and lighting to produce some good videos.  I think people get hooked on it too, because if it’s just listening, it’s one thing, but if they see Doll singing, they see this really cute girl with a great voice that’s classic and jazzy.

How did you choose the name Zion Studios for your place?

Well the name Zion is a religious term and it represents the highest mountain that there is, and it’s supposed to represent the mountain that God lives on.  It just always struck me as a strong word, and it always struck me as something that represented the epitome or echelon.  I’ve always loved the animal of the lion, and I feel like, in the metaphorical sense, there is the pride of lions and that’s where the logo came from.  It was more of a thing where it represents strength and a pride in family and togetherness.  I think that is how music is formed.  You have one person’s ideas, and another person’s ideas, and…

It’s a harmony.

Exactly, and that’s where the name came from.  There’s scripture in the bible that talks about, ‘Remember me when you sing the songs of Zion.’  It’s sort of a reflection back to when they were back in Egypt, they used to sing the songs of Zion and it would take them out of their rut.  They would get together and sing the songs of Zion.  When I read that scripture, I was like, ‘Oh that’s it, that’s the name.’  It’s not like any big mystery.  I think it means more to me than anyone else.

That’s what makes it your studio.

I don’t think I would have gone with any other name, but yeah, that’s what it is.

So is music the thing that gets you out of a rut?

Always.  It’s an escape.  And it’s not always playing it, but just listening to it.  Like if things are going bad, there are some things that I’ll put on, either old records or old stuff.  For me it’s hearing other people that have gone through hell and they’re singing in their pain throughout, and it lifts the spirits.  I think music is so supernatural, it’s so otherworldly.  It’s a mystery that I think will never be unraveled and will never be solved, but it does almost miraculous things to people’s psyche and their emotions.  It even has a physical impression on people.  I find it fascinating the psychosomatic, psychological, and physical affects that music has even on brainwaves.  The affect that it has on people overall, it’s a mystery that’s constantly evolving.  I think we try not to take it too lightly.  We take it seriously as far as how much this means to somebody else who might hear it.

The physical state of music is interesting as well.

It’s funny, they have actually done studies that, with the proliferation of the iTunes and MP3s and all the online music sources, there has actually been a degradation in the quality of music—not necessary the songs, per say, but the sound of music going from vinyl and analog recordings, and then moving to tape, and then moving to CD.  They always say it’s getting better and better and better, but technically, it’s getting worse and worse and worse.  They actually found in the studies the affect psychologically and physically that it has on people.  The less quality that they listen to, the less affect it actually has on them.  So the most emotional response that people have listening to music is listening to live music.  And then when you go down that list, it actually has a lesser affect on their emotions.  From listening to a piece of music live, with an immense, tangible affect on somebody—their blood pressure, their heart rate, their emotions.  Play that same piece of music through an MP3, and it’s far less.  It’s something that you can’t really explain because it could sound like the same thing to them, but it’s not translating the same.  That’s why, at least for us, it’s important to keep that live aspect and keep the best sound possible.  It’s important, and not everybody has the budget to do vinyl, and has a budget to do analog, but at least we still try and keep that live aspect.  I think there’s a big backlash in music right now because everyone got so tired in the mid-2000s of all the heavy-produced thing, and I think the auto-tune is going to have such a backlash.  It already has, you know?  ‘Cause it’s not real, it’s so mechanical and people aren’t going to be listening to that stuff in five, ten, fifteen years.  They want to get back to real singers and real musicians.  I’m all for the advancement of technology, but when it makes people rich, and there’s others that are incredibly talented and have a great song to sing and they’re making no money, it just doesn’t make a lot of sense.

Technology has provided shortcuts, which isn’t always for the best.

It’s true.  It’s a short cut and it’s easy and someone can press one button and have a song in a box.  It’s frustrating, but you’re never going to win that battle.

It’s easy to spot a fake, over enough time, the truth comes out.

I think there’s always going to be the purists out there.  There are some producers that I try to follow and love almost everything that they put their hands on.

Any producers in particular?

I love T-Bone Burnett.  The sounds that he gets are amazing.  I like Jon Brion, he is wickedly talented.  Of course guys I follow composers like John Williams.  To me, he is absolutely a genius.  There’s a guy named Tony Burge produces an artist name Jesca Hoop.  She plays at Hotel Café every once in a while.  She’s British and her stuff is so good.  You know Tom Waits?  She was actually his nanny for many years.  Her songs are so crazy, but they’re not as out-there as someone like Bjork, because it actually has a familiar rhythms and melodies.  It’s singer-songwriter, but some of her stuff is really dark.  It’s just so interesting.  She’s probably one of my top favorite artists right now.  All those guys are kind of part of the purist form of production and music, and I’m sure there’s many more, but all the stuff that they’ve done I just loved.  Van Dyke Parks has been a big inspiration for me for arranging strings.  Randy Newman—his stuff is just timeless.

Jesca Hoop: The Kingdom Music Video from Filmatics on Vimeo.

Songwriters: Echo Echo

You guys have played almost 350 shows since your conception in November of 2003, how do you keep the music you’re writing fresh?

Steve Carson (vocals): We don’t really play the old stuff anymore. After we recorded the first two EP’s, because we were playing so much, when we did get together, we didn’t really have to rehearse because we had so many shows. It gave us an opportunity to write. So filtering in new songs with the 10 songs on the first two EP’s allowed us to keep adding material. I think at one point in time, we had a 22-song set that we could play. Not all of those songs got recorded, but it kind of led up to Fall Like You're Flying. We were able to continue putting songs together, and then we did our own recording. Part of being in a band is playing those same songs over and over again, because that’s why people go to shows. At least with the 14 songs we released in September, I’m not tired of those songs. And some of those songs were written two years prior. I don’t know if it’s the way they’re written, or the quality of song, or what I feel about them. But now we’re writing again, and we’re working on three new songs tonight.

Jameson (guitar): Every time we play a song live, there is a strict structure, but there might be a different energy of that song each night.

Bruce Yolken (bass): And the crowd is different every night.

Jameson: People respond to different ones.

Yolken: Sometimes they just change on their own. Darren and I strive to repeat ourselves everytime and create a framework. But then watching Steve and Jameson on the more creative side night by night, you definitely feel a shift. Their energy changes, and their approach will change a little, and our newest member, Andy, frees Steve up from the keyboard, and now he can connect with the audience more.

Darren Carr (drums): To be honest, I hope to have to the opportunity to play the same group of songs for 10, 20, 30 years. I’d love to be playing these songs forever.

What is it about these songs that are just right?

Carson: I think, for me personally, the first EP we recorded in 2004, I had written most of the songs, and I think we wrote one together as a band. And then the second EP, Jameson and I started collaborating a little more, and everyone started to get their hands in the writing mix. Once we got beyond 2005 and into 2006, a lot of the writing happened in here (the studio), like it was the fifth member of the band. It was where we collaborated as a band, and it was an opportunity for everybody to bring different things in. At different times, Jameson would come in and work things out with Bruce or Darren. Or Jameson and I would meet. Or I’d bring something in. At that point there was a shift towards a more collaborative unit, where we were all writing together. Not necessarily not all four at once, but at some point, we definitely started influencing each other.

So it’s not just one of you handing out parts of a composition to the others?

Carson: What’s cool about the writing process now, and definitely during writing Fall Like Your Flying, was that everybody was interested in what the other person was doing. Or we cared to ask, ‘What do you thin about this? What do you think about that?’ Some of the melodies would work off of certain riffs that Jameson was playing. Or a vocal melody that would maybe moves things. Or some songs Darren had a drum beat he wanted to use. At this point in the evolution of the band, it’s not about saying, ‘You do 70%, you’re doing 10%.’ It doesn’t matter anymore. Most important thing is that we’re collaborating and that, for me personally, is what makes me love the songs more. It’s not just about me writing a song with an acoustic guitar, and then people are adding what they do as musicians and artists into that song. Even listening to the record, I still can listen to it, and wonder, ‘Where did that come from?’ I had nothing to do with that, and how amazing is it that now I’m a fan of something we do, because somebody else in the band took it upon themselves to say, ‘I’ve got a cool idea.’ All right, great! I would have never thought of that.

Jameson: Until we all decide the piece is finished, everybody has creative freedom, up until that point of, ‘Ok, now this is it.’

How do you determine when it’s over? At what length do you feel comfortable cutting a song? Artists like Billy Kernkamp talked about staying within the 3:00 minute pop structure. Where do you stand on that?

Carson: There was that mentality in the beginning; let’s get in and out, and nobody gets hurt. And there are still songs that that works for. There’s no doubt. One of our new songs, I Can’t Be Trusted, is definitely that. Let’s just get in, and get out. So we worked out a lot of these songs, and then when we met with our producers, especially Rupert Hine, he kind of brought this new light about songwriting and the journey. We used to look at the journey as the set, or an album, or the ‘machine.’ We used to talk about the ‘machine’ as a whole set of songs, not the individual pieces. He came to us and said, think about every song as a piece, that can be it’s own journey. I don’t know about you guys, as soon as that transformation with Rupert occurred, and then starting to record the album, I kind of let go of time. I don’t think about time anymore. I think about feeling. Ever since that happened, I never feel like, ‘Man, this is dragging.’ It’s almost like it’s been instilled in us, we just know, it feels right. It’s too short, it’s too long. It’s not a number anymore. Probably in the beginning, especially for young writers, it is a number. Like, ‘Oh man, this is five minutes long.’ But it’s not about that. Does it feel five minutes long?

Yolken: We don’t formulate anymore. Occasionally we’ll write a song where we try to break the rules a little bit consciously. And I think maybe that’s the next step; we’re gonna push for something longer and more vibe oriented that doesn’t go in traditional sections that you would find in all the hits that are on the radio. So it’s more a matter of, we just don’t care. We want to do what’s right for the song, what we feel. And if it makes the cut, great. If it doesn’t, then at least we had a good time.

Carr: Based off of Rupert’s guidance, it’s become more and more apparent that if the listener doesn’t feel anything at the end of the song, or feel different than they did at the beginning of the song, then it’s all for not, you know? If you can make somebody feel something in three, four, or five minutes, that’s different than the way they felt in the beginning; mission accomplished.

Jameson: The goal is to make someone feel something. Not finish the song as soon as possible.

Carson: And if they feel something within three minutes, then that’s great. Some songs are perfect for three minutes.

Some people like melodies, but lyrics aren’t that important to them. Are you as obsessed with the message of the lyrics as the emotive music you’re producing?

Carson: I think I can speak for everybody when I say, we’re not obsessed. I don’t think we’re obsessed with anything as far as that goes. I don’t think it’s something we consciously think about, like, ‘We need to make sure that this song has a melody that’s a hook, and that the lyrics mean something to somebody on this planet (at least 4 million), and that they wanna sing this song over and ov…’ No it’s not about that. I don’t ever consider what I’m singing about. I think because of what the lyrics are based upon, my own personal experiences or the way I feel, it’s obvious that I’m going to relate, because I’m not that different from you. So I could sing a song, and if you’ve had an experience similar to mine, then it’s like, ‘yeah, I totally relate.’ There’s never a situation where it’s like, ‘I need to relate to somebody today.’ It’s not about that.

Jameson: The best and the worst part about Steve as a lead singer, his best message or lyrics come out when he’s not thinking about it, and just singing with the band. As far as Steve sitting down and thinking about what the message is or should be, I don’t think that exists.

Yolken: We’ll play a song live for a few months before the lyrics are locked down. And the first time we play a song live, we typically have everything else close. Sometimes it comes quick, sometimes it doesn’t. But it’s always meaningful, it’s just never calculated.

And some bands like to have it completely calculated, but do you think that takes away from the feeling of the song? Like trying to push it into a little box?

Carson: I don’t think so. Everybody is different, and I think there are plenty of artists or bands that can sit and write, and then they can take those words and they can find their melody and their own way, and it’s all the same. The amazing thing about live performance is that there’s really no specific way it’s done. Everybody does it different. And the reality is that, we could do something different tomorrow. We don’t have a formula.

Songwriters: Honeypie

So where did you guys start as musicians?

Ryan Radcliff: I feel like I’m different because I didn’t come at things from a writing point of view. I started as a musician just ‘cause I wanted to play guitar like Stevie Ray Vaughan and Jimi Hendrix. Writing wasn’t something I even thought about. I started playing in 1999, and even until about 2003, and I would have friends ask me to play one of my songs, but I just wouldn’t have any. And it got to a point where some friends would make fun of me for that, like, “You don’t you write any songs, what’s up?” Then in 2004, I had a girlfriend I broke up with, and started a project with Pavla (Dlab), who sings with Jameson. We started a band, and we were presented with having to write songs. It was the first time that I thought, this is gonna be mine and hers, and we have to write. So I drew from that experience, and I started using my first influences like the Police and Fiona Apple. During that time, those were the first songs I wrote. My first period of time writing was with Pavla. We would always write together as a team. Then Steve (Carson) kind of met up with us after the band had been going. We had written songs, but he took me to another level of arranging, and showed how important it is to take a second look at a song. When you write it, you have to step away, then take a look at it again. After that, it was realizing the place I need to be in to write, like emotionally and in my mind, and where my head needs to be at, because I think it’s a very different place from where my head needs to be at to play guitar. So realizing that those are two different places is important too.

Trisha Smith: It’s similar for me, because I’ve always loved to sing since I can remember, but I never wrote songs. I’ve written here and there, but nothing I actually gave to any band. This is the third project I’ve been in, and in every one, I hadn’t had the desire to write for the band. I just love to sing and I love the songs that someone else was writing. My first band was a rock/funk/reggae band called Wildcard Friday, and the drummer wrote all the songs. In Venus Infers, Davis (Fetter) wrote all the songs. And it’s funny ‘cause people would be like, “You don’t write the songs and you’re a singer?” But it didn’t bother me because I just really wanted to sing, and I loved the songs I had and got to make little changes. Now it’s a lot different because I have learned to enjoy writing and I love to feel accomplished from it. Ryan and I will work together, and it’s a different feeling to be able to create something and then to share it. When I’m singing it, to have that passion—I feel and really mean this song. It’s finally like, this is my project. I’ve been learning a lot about writing and become a lot more confident to present a lyric or melody to Ryan.

So a lot of artists write a song, package it all up, spit it out, and then once it’s out there, it belongs to the audience. Do you feel the same way? Is that how you transition from writing a song to playing a song on guitar?

Radcliff: I feel like I’m in a completely different frame of mind. Guys like Billy (Kernkamp) and Steve, I think they got into being a music maker for a completely different reason than I did. I think they got into it to be songwriters, and that’s not why I got into it. I got into it, first and foremost, just to play guitar. And I have this theory that everybody takes melody, harmony, rhythm, and lyrics, at different levels. For me, lyrics have never been something I’ve been into, and that’s just how I am and how I’m made. But something I’ve always been into is harmony, melody, and rhythm, but lyrics—not at all. A good song, to me, doesn’t have to have good lyrics. It could have terrible lyrics. I think that lines up with coming at music from a technical guitar player point of view. I’m not really listening to lyrics, because I’m not a singer either. I’m in this mindset of writing, I feel like you have to bring your ego way down, and you have to be able to take everything in and be influenced and be open to hearing things. But then when you’re on stage, you’re confidence has to be at a certain point to be able to play live. And realizing how different that is. I would get into an environment where I had to play, and I wouldn’t be able to because I’d been writing all the time. So you almost feel like you have to be this schizophrenic, and you have to go back and forth, and it’s tough. I can’t write everyday. I’ve been playing a lot and I haven’t been writing. And if I’m gonna be writing, then playing for me if gonna be tough, ‘cause I have to cram into that other mode.

So how do you feel about the importance of a harmony between band members when writing and playing?

Radcliff: A big thing I’ve realized is that every musician, in their own different way, uses something different as an outlet. I’ve been thinking lately that I’ve never really been a lyrics person, but I’m always thinking about stuff, just like everyone is. Everybody’s brain is always going, and you’re always reacting to things. I’ve asked myself, why am I not a prolific lyricist like Billy, who is constantly writing words down. I think for me, I gravitate more to my outlet being playing, rather than writing a lyric. For Billy, his outlet is in writing a song or in writing a lyric, and mine isn’t naturally like that. I have to make it like that. That goes with getting in that zone. I have to turn my outlet from playing, and turn it into writing.

Smith: I’m really big on lyrics too. He’ll write something and he might not think it’s that great, but I’ll let him know when I love something and I think it’s amazing.

Radcliff: That’s why Honeypie stays so small. It comes down to the basis of it--who inspires you to want to work? Otherwise, what’s the point of having these bands that don’t get along? It’s not even worth it.

Smith: I’d rather have a band of just us two, where we just get along and inspire each other and it’s great. It’s better than having someone in the band who is dragging their feet and not that into it.

I think a lot of people get held back because they think musicians either have it, or they don’t, but a lot of it is a learned thing, right?

Radcliff: I think that’s an important thing. No matter what you’re comfort zone is, you can go out of that comfort zone, and if you practice anything, you’ll get better at it. If you practice lyrics, you’ll get better at them. It took me years to finally write songs, because I thought that if I couldn’t write a song right away, that I couldn’t write. But no one ever told me thats it’s just like guitar. You just have to do it. Tell yourself to write 20 songs this month. Force it out, because you have to. The only way to learn is to gain the experience.

Do you find yourself stuck in a moment of emotion when you are attempting to write, or is it a broader? Do you like to stick with storylines, or just a good melody?

Smith: I think for me it’s a little broader arena. I try to think of things that really affect me, or what I’m passionate about, whether it’s a story, or just my view on something. I like storylines and melodies both, and I like to experiment. I would love to write a song that maybe has no lyrics, just sounds.

Radcliff: I think the best places to write are in the car and in the shower. It’s places where a part of your brain is being occupied, and it’s such a crucial part. If you just sit in your chair and you try to write, then there’s too much of your soul being focused. If you’re driving or in the shower, then a part of you is occupied, and you don’t realize it because it’s something that you’ve done so many times. Melodies and lyrics are the easiest in the shower. I could never sit down at my desk and write lyrics out, like if you can imagine any great songwriter. The funny thing is that they are such great practiced songwriters, and I bet they can just go to that part of their brain without going into the shower. That’s what they do

How much do you think is technique with those professionals?

Radcliff: I think they are inspired and they have experience on their side. It’s those two things. If you write constantly, you’re bound to put out good stuff. If you listen to enough good music, you’ll regurgitate something good. A great thing is to just constantly listen to music. I’m very systematic, and so the big thing with playing guitar is studying your scales and you study the mechanics. When it comes time to play, that stuff is in your head and it comes out, but you’re not regurgitating. With songwriting, you have to just listen to music.

When you’re getting ready to write, how do you prepare yourself?

Radcliff: When I’m writing, I’ve got my cluster of music that I listen to that inspires me, like Elliott Smith, Ryan Adams, and Wilco, and I’ll only listen to that stuff. I won’t listen to the latest Indie band, and I won’t listen to something that won’t inspire the direction that I want to write. You keep a certain mindset. I don’t write all the time, so I do it in chunks. It would be great to do it all the time because I love writing. When I write something new, it feels like this cursed puzzle. When you write something and you know you’ve got something good, and you’re like, ‘I have to finish this and do it justice.’ Otherwise, if I play it for Trish for the first time, then she’s not gonna like it, and it’s gonna get wasted. So it becomes like this curse where this great thing you’ve made and you’re proud of, you not have to finish. You have to come up with other great parts that go with it. The high point for me is in the creation of it, and the puzzle is being complete. Everyone is a little different.

Smith: I like to write in parts too. I’ll write a verse, then another, but it kind of depends on what comes out at the time. I usually don’t start at the beginning and then write through the whole song and then end it—which would be a cool thing to do. I think I’m better at writing everything separately in parts, and kind of rearranging lyrics. A lot of times, I’ll write things, and then it will make better sense to put them in a different order. I don’t know why, but sometimes I write backwards. We’ll move lines as a second look.

So how do you know when you cut it and what the length is? Is it determined by storyline, the feeling of the melody, the guitar parts? Is there something about it that makes it a longer song, or short and sweet?

Radcliff: There’s no right answer. It’s what you were feeling with the song. You don’t have to follow all the rules, you can do whatever you want, ‘cause who else are you doing it for? There’s always gonna be someone that likes anything.

Photos courtesy of Jenavieve Belair