The Places I’m From
Minneapolis stands at a curious point in “fly-over land.” For its part in the history of American popular music, it represents a congenial mixture of influences from both coasts, also from Canada and Chicago. For years it has been a good place to be from— but not a good place to stay. There were the Trashmen, of “Surfin’ Bird” renown in the sixties. Artists like Leo Kottke and Michael Johnson, sometimes reluctant to be identified too closely with Minneapolis, worked out of the bigger industry centers of New York, LA or Nashville. Of course this has changed more recently, with the growth of Minneapolis as a creative source for popular music. The Artist known as Prince is perhaps the most visible example of a musician who has decided to return and work out of Minneapolis. Although there seems to be no true “Minneapolis Sound,” a wide variety of styles have found their home here.

Literally a City of Lakes situated at the first major cataract of the Mississippi, Minneapolis came to represent a fortress on the prairie for what has been known as Midwestern Values. Lampooned unmercifully by writers like Sinclair Lewis and Garrison Keillor, the lifestyles of the Poor and Unknown of Minnesota has been a limitless source of humor, or at least a kind of bittersweet irony. This place can be bleak and unforgiving during the darkest months of the winter. Every autumn is the time for another preparation to keep warm and comfortable for the months ahead. Stories of bundling up for the cold weather are usually the theme of so much humor that is uniquely Minnesotan. And, naturally, Minneapolis is the great city of Oz to so many of the outstate residents, a proving ground for the open-mindedness of these Midwestern Values. Once we all get through another winter, Minneapolis can have a much more appealing climate. Green, fresh, breezy— it’s filled with truly pleasant changes that remind all Minneapolitans of their perspective in the wide scope of nature. For visitors who notice the “clean” look of this city, it’s amazing how much dirt can be plowed away with a few feet of snow every spring. It’s a climate that builds a certain kind of tolerance for anyone else who’ll share it with you.

In the southwest corner of this city is a small neighborhood called Linden Hills. Although it is neither hilly or filled with linden trees, the inhabitants of this part of the city are content enough with the name. There are a few rises from street to street that could be called hills, especially as the land descends into either of the two lakes in the neighborhood, Lake Harriet and Lake Calhoun. And most of these streets are lined with towering elm trees, once too often described as “stately.” Elm trees grace most of the streets of this city, a wonderful heritage to preserve. One of my earliest memories as a child is that of staring out our front window, up at the bold, arching limbs of the elms along the street. Their black outline against the sky resembles the mighty arms of giants engaged in a strange kind of dance.

Linden Hills used to be the outer frontier of the city of Minneapolis, near the end of the original streetcar line. A favorite stop for many riders was the Lake Harriet bandshell, a good place for a picnic and a concert in the summer. My parents moved into a big frame house in Linden Hills when I was still an infant. For me and my three siblings, it was the house we all grew up in. As an adult now, I find that the memories of this place grow more precious with time. I still recall the sound from the Lake Harriet bandstand in the stillness of a sultry summer evening. When a brass band played, their concert always ended with the Star Spangled Banner. We could hear these sounds drifting into our windows at bedtime on a summer evening. As children we spent many lazy summer afternoons at the lake— swimming, diving and boating.

Now I live in a suburb on the northwest edge of Minneapolis. When visiting Linden Hills these days, it certainly has a different feel than I remember. Yes, of course everything looks smaller— after all, I’m bigger. But the stillness and quiet that I remember has been replaced by the overhead roar of jet airplanes coming in to Twin Cities International Airport. It’s much more crowded. Minneapolitans love to come to this quaint little neighborhood for a variety of reasons: antique shops, art fairs and more concerts at the same bandstand.

In the years since, I have come to recognize a sweet, nut-like scent given off by the linden tree, the namesake of my old neighborhood. Every year in the month of June, I can smell this aroma and imagine the linden trees that were actually very rare when I was a child. This is the Linden Hills I want to remember.

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Plant Ideas and Grow Songs

For me, there’s a truly satisfying feeling in creating a new song and sharing it with listeners. It’s been very rewarding for me to make this connection with other people. The writer Nick Hornby unabashedly wishes he could create an effective song of two or three minutes than to write an entire novel. Although I sometimes wish the opposite for myself— I’d love to have the skills for writing a novel— I can understand what he means.

When I first met the producer of my first CD, I remember telling him this: “I won’t waste your time. Most of my songs are only a few minutes long.” And that’s what I sincerely want to tell my audiences I play for. In fact, I want to start in and play each song and let it speak for itself. Lately I’ve discovered that I have to share a few thoughts with the people before I play. I often get much better feedback from people when I’ve introduced a song effectively.

Nearly every day I try to add to my “Hook Book”— a little spiral notebook that is crammed with phrases that I’ve heard or read. Some phrases I get excited about as potential song titles; others are a little glimpse of a feeling or a thought that I might use in a lyric someday. And I’ll tell you what: I really enjoy flipping through my Hook Book occasionally for a review of past ideas. The oldest pages have lines that I eventually used in songs. Sometimes a phrase will reappear a few pages later, just as evidence that it had a real staying power in my mind.

Also, nearly every day I try to “Hum and Strum” with my guitar. This is when I explore riffs, chord progressions or rhythms that interest me. Or maybe I just play my own songs or other songs I know. And I try to recall any musical ideas that really come back to me and evoke a clear feeling. As Willie Nelson said, if a melody isn’t very memorable, maybe it wasn’t much good anyway. Willie has also said, “I pluck melodies out of the air— that’s where they come from.” That’s what I try to do, too. It’s true— melodies are out there, floating around.

On a sheet of paper I might make a list of the melody ideas that I’m kicking around. On the other side of this sheet I’ll list some of the cool titles out of my hook book. Now it’s time to make connections. Of all the truly inspired events that have happened in my life, the most important are the connections. That’s when I connected the dots. The obvious dots, the irresistible truths, the vibrant feelings.

The songs I enjoy are the result of these connections. I can take any song into my mind and make new connections. And I know you listeners do, too. I’m always fascinated when you say you got a new insight from my song. These are connections that I never dream of, but I’m glad that I can create a song that you can step into and gain the inspiration you need for your own life. You’re the listener. You mean everything to me.

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Tunesmith
By Jimmy Webb (quote)

A song can heal. It can close wounds between lovers, friends and families. Perhaps, in some cases, songs have even cured diseases. Music is being used increasingly as a therapy by certain persons active in the treatment of autistic children with surprisingly positive results. As for us, songwriters may be the only “physicians” who actually have the power to heal ourselves. Writing songs is perhaps the best autopsychotherapy ever invented. In fact, the famous “writer’s block” may be nothing more than a stubborn unwillingness to heal ourselves....”

Jimmy Webb, from his book, “Tunesmith: Inside the Art of Songwriting”

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Musical Influences
Why I Feel Like a Song

The great time line that represents my life would have a significant event at a very early point. That is the advent of the Beatles. There was little before this time that has had the same influence on my interest in music. And in the years since their breakup, there has been nothing to compare in importance. I’d like to start by describing the impressions I can remember from before the Beatles. Sometimes I find myself thinking, “Was there any Real Music before the Beatles?” Here are a few thoughts:

I can remember a time when I was about kindergarten age and my younger brother would sing a song that was a huge hit at the time, “Kisses Sweeter Than Wine.” He only knew part of the chorus, but I can still recall how all the grown-ups got such a big kick out of hearing him sing the song. Later, in grade school, I can still picture a little boy in our class named Billy. When asked to recite or perform something for the class, he got up and sang “Tom Dooley.” The girls in our class were especially impressed. So, obviously, I have to confess that I could see even then that music has a great potential for reaching grown-ups and girls. These two songs I mentioned were part of the Folk music movement that was just gaining momentum in the early sixties.

In junior high school, I took lessons on a four-string banjo. This instrument, also called a plectrum banjo, is the kind that works best for Dixieland. Tuned like a tenor guitar or a baritone uke, this four-string banjo was a fine starting point for a thirteen-year-old boy like me. But the girls still weren’t impressed. The music I remember at this time included the “Hootenanny” show on network television. There were lots of fascinating musicians playing acoustic instruments and singing colorful storytelling songs. The most successful of these artists were Peter, Paul and Mary. Others like the Kingston Trio and the New Christy Minstrels also did very well in the early sixties. Songwriters like Bob Dylan and Phil Ochs were just starting to redefine the role of Folk music at this time. In the years since, I have been only moderately interested in the prolific work of Bob Dylan. And I’m just not able to explain why Dylan, Elvis, the Beach Boys— all outstanding talents— were never to captivate me the way the Beatles did.

Well before the Beatles’ first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show, there was a short newsreel of them that Jack Paar ran on his regular Friday night show. I loved watching his show for the truly impromptu conversations he had with his guests. This was a more pleasant time in television. It was at the end of one of his shows that Jack Paar said, “We’ll run a short piece of film now from England. This musical group has been incredibly successful.” And he didn’t try to explain anything, just shared the film on television. Of course, at this time, the Beatles had seen miserable results from the singles they released in America. Towards Christmas, 1963, Capitol Records agreed to release and promote their music, and the “invasion” was on. History shows that, from 1964 and on, the Beatles had a tremendous impact on popular music. They were the first self-contained group that wrote their own material. They were such a big success that they set a model for groups to follow from then until the present.

Another personal impression: I can remember sitting with my four-string banjo at the record player, trying to learn “From Me To You” from a Beatles single. I just couldn’t get anywhere. I wanted so badly to learn songs by ear, and it wasn’t long before I stopped playing the Dixieland songs on the banjo and begged my parents to get me a full-sized guitar. By the end of 1964 I was able to switch to the larger, six-stringed instrument and I was learning Beatle songs from records and song books.

The interplay of talent between Lennon and McCartney is definitely the thing that made the Beatles mean so much to me. These two songwriters were very competitive with each other, and they complemented each other’s styles so perfectly that it made the best of their material so outstanding. Both John and Paul have acknowledged that there were certain songs written exclusively by one or the other writer. With some songs, it’s easy to see that one writer contributed the middle eight or helped write part of a verse that the other had trouble finishing. The best of the lyrics, truly personal and honest, are usually in songs attributed to John. And Paul seems responsible for some of the most vibrant, timeless melodies. After the “White Album” and the release of the film “Let It Be,” it was clear the Beatles were not attaining the same excellence as in earlier works. Their fans still loved anything they put out, but the best years of the Beatles were behind them. I never was as impressed with the work of Lennon or McCartney as solo artists; John usually appears too coarse, and Paul usually appears too cute. But the best of their work together continues to influence me in my own writing.

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