Normally, a blog with this type of heading would reveal happenings as they unfolded during such a big event. Not so here.
If you were extra fortunate, you might even read a little about the artist’s secret recollections and emotions regarding the event. Once again…not right now.
Ideally, this type of writing should give you some interesting insight into the artist, especially if something profound happened, right? That is one of the reasons you came here to read, right? Yes.
Over a long 9-month process starting back in July of 2008, The Academy of Texas Music found my song writing and my effort to get a body of work out to the public, interesting and endearing enough to nominate me for an award. Believe me--that was no small honor for this guy from Cypress (via Boston)-- who desperately seeks to place his pain, fear, and joy of living into 210-second long melodic pockets called songs.
The Academy did so much more than that for me. It unwittingly placed me in one of those coveted, elusive dimensions in the universe where we are able to find within ourselves the love for others. And as these “relationship hot spots” go, you only find them when you are not looking. It just happens.
Danny Everitt, Connie Mims, Brian Kalinec, and Hank Woji were the other nominees in my song writer award category. By default, they also were dropped into my special little relationship chasm. Let me take up as much of this space as possible to tell you about these beautiful humans.
Danny Everitt- I’ve known about him for a few years now. I have actually known him for about one year. I have been willing to jump in front of a bus for him since Friday night at around 11pm. As I sit here and tell you about him, I will exclude all of the accolades that I think most people should already have—you know, kindness, generosity, sense of humor, charitable nature, etc. Let’s get into some stuff that makes Danny, well, just Danny.
This guy never gave up.
His body may have taken a break or two through the years, but his soul never let his heart hibernate. An up-and-comer in the early 1970’s, by anyone’s account, he had the goods. Well, I’m here to tell you he still does- and always did. That is what I admire most about him. You don’t maintain that intensity without an authentic love for the craft of writing and performing.
On Friday night after our show at KE Cellars, Danny and I sat on what I have affectionately termed the “crows nest” and played songs into the wee hours of the morning on Connie’s beautiful farm about 10 miles east of Tyler, TX. The nest features an 8 X 10 hand-built deck, 15 feet off the ground. From there you’ve got a “360 view” of the spacious Pinkerton Farm that drapes and falls over a 300-acre parcel of east Texas farm land.
You should have heard him tearing into the night with his stuff- lilting and raucous all at once. He is crazy in love with the music that inspired him 30 years ago. He can’t wait to write it, re-write it, work it out, and perform it. He just can’t wait to play it for you. Did I already say that? The genuine elation he gets from a song and its delivery is so unique, so rare, and deeply moving, that it is difficult to impart. It is a feeling, not an analysis.
Go see him perform and give him 5 minutes of undivided attention. If it doesn’t inspire you to be better at what you do, or find a little more love for what you do in your profession and your family life, then you might want to get checked out. He loves it from the inside out. I think his girlfriend Patricia brings that out of him.
And she is a whole “nother” story! Bright as a star, sharp as a tack, pretty as they come, and smart as they get. Danny landed himself a true keeper.
Connie Mims- What a gem in this world. Simply a gem. I just didn’t know. Man-- I just didn’t know. Amidst many opportunities over the past 6 years, I never sought her friendship in any meaningful way. Did I have enough friends? Do you ever feel that way? Shame on me. Well, that is the past. Luckily, The universe gave me at least one more chance for a connection with this wonderful other being.
To say Connie is funny, would be like saying the Pyramids are somewhat large.
The muscles between my ribs are still sore from all the laughing this past weekend. The endorphins that pumped through my body added 5 years to my life I’m sure. She is the female version of Rich Little. Her impression of the little Texas girl who lived near the Mexican border is extra hysterical because it is about herself. She might have gone on for 20-30 minutes with that “bit” but Danny, Patricia, and I were laughing so hard for so long, that Connie couldn’t continue without cracking up too—or maybe she thought we would need medical attention. Not sure. What a moment. She wasn’t even trying to be funny really--just conversing over the eight-hour-crock-pot-simmered chicken tortilla soup she made for us Friday night.
She is 1-part mom, 1-part wife, 1-part writer, 3-parts harmony—and equally successful in all 5 areas. Oh…and she makes the six-string sing like a Chapel Hill Blue Bird on an early summer day.
She understands the progressions from a theory standpoint. “Walking up and down” to the next note always sounds nicer than just jumping there. Her songs are swift and beautiful, and are a paragon of experience, knowledge, and fun.
I got the chance to perform with her in two song circles on each of the last two Friday nights. When the first note jumped from her at Bohemeos in Houston, I knew right there, that I had missed something very big about her (musically.) She has such a natural delivery that makes people enjoy watching her as much as listening. It is a rare quality. You can’t teach it. You can’t catch it in a camera. It’s not a plaque on the wall.
After this weekend, it is a little hard for me to imagine playing a show without her and “the gang.” By the way---she won the award in our category!
Brian Kalinec—As a writer, sometimes when you get wind of the exploits of another song writer, you might form this false impression of them as being one-up on everybody, maybe even a bit unapproachable. If you let that ill-founded notion simmer, you start to believe it over time. Many times in my life, I had admired a singer or songwriter who had reached higher levels of listener success than I. Then I was disappointed when I actually met them because they were rude or arrogant. It’s a real belly blow. Not so with this wonderful music maker Brian Kalinec.
I heard about Brian a few years ago when he was winning some songwriting showcases in Texas and around the country. …”Man, this guy must be good…” I remember saying to myself. And he is. Brian’s internal light-bulb obviously found the “on” position many years ago. His ability to describe abstract and complicated introspections in a simple way, makes me want to work harder at finding that light.
Besides that, whenever another person is playing, he’ll lean in with some gorgeous leads and rhythm that bring the song to life. He does it a way that compliments the singer, rather than just brand his label on the song. He has the ability to get inside a song, and inside a note for you, with you. It is so sweet.
It was such a thrill to share the stage with him two Fridays in a row, then to pal around with him and his wife Pam all weekend during the TMA festivities. Pam keeps him moving too and rarely misses a show. It can’t happen the way it does for Brian without her.
Hank Woji—Connie glanced away from her crochet needles, to look at Hank and I argue in some detail about The Redsox and Yankees line ups and farm systems. When neither one of us would acknowledge her, she finally had to say something. “Are you kidding me with all this stuff?” Hank and I can go on for hours about the ins and outs of baseball. Hey, it’s our national pastime and I don’t apologize for loving it so much. Neither does Hank.
He is a jersey boy. He spent some formative years on the upper west side of Manhattan near a neighborhood called Morningside where George Carlin grew up. (Hank is proud of that.)
Hank is an interesting cat. A Springsteen-loving Yankee turned Rebel, he loves a good lyric. Champion of the commoner, he lets you have it in this plain as the nose on your face approach.
There is some pain in his voice, which I always love to hear in a singer. His vocal style is straight-forward and clear. “Living on the edge of the American dream.” Don’t you just love that line? I do.
All five of us were invited to take the stage together at the TMA award ceremony. We had six minutes to transform and carve 5 songs into 1:20 segments. While Connie, Brian, Danny, and I lobbed out a few casual ideas on how this should be done, Hank couldn’t wait for the undertaking. He wanted the ball. He helped us figure out some transition notes (this involved some math with which I am not familiar.) He got excited about all our songs blending together. He was the catalyst that made a potentially awkward, daunting task, fun.
I’ve known Hank for about 4 years now. I see him in and around town at open mics where we hone our craft under little or no pressure, tell each other how great we are, and wonder why we haven’t made the big time yet—all over a few beers and a few laughs. Thanks to this weekend, it won’t be exactly the same when I see him in Houston again. It will be better.
These four above-mentioned wonders changed my life this weekend. Sound a little over cooked? I wish it were, but its not. I am proudly part of a “Fab Five” that I will treasure for the rest of my days. No lie.
When I watched the movie “Walk the Line,” the writer, director, producers, and actors did such an incredible job of bringing me into the life and being of Johnny Cash, so that whenever June Carter (Reese Witherspoon) was not in a scene, I missed her terribly. I got this odd little pain in my heart when she wasn’t in the scene like I’m sure Johnny did in real life.
After this weekend of breaking some chains and “coming around some walls,” I miss Danny, Connie, Brian, and Hank already very much.