I Think, Therefore I Think. I Am Alive, Therefore I Am Alive.

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Steve Murray is a friend of mine. We used to play open mics together at Zack’s in Durban, South Africa. I met Steve through another friend of mine, Esjay who now lives in San Diego and who is the soul’s core of the band Stealing Love Jones. Before I moved to Nashville I got together with Steve to practice one afternoon and on a whim decided to record the proceedings. In the song you’ll hear Steve and I communicating and since this was a practice there’s a couple of rough bits. I always liked Steve’s style of playing and I miss having chats with him about Seinfeld and beers and music.

picture courtesy of: http://www.motorcycleridesnow.com/roadtrip

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There’s a million and three thoughts going through my brain about life, music, God, girls, babies. I need it to slow down so I can pick a few things out and take a bit of time looking over them. I’d like to reach in and find the ‘off’ switch sometimes but I know there’s not one there so all I can hope for is that things will slow down in there a bit.

You keep moving and doing what you have to do. You don’t focus on the stuff that seems impossible to understand. As soon as you focus on that you lose your mind completely because it all seems ridiculously complicated. But if you keep on keeping on; if you just keep doing your daily things your brain keeps working and these thoughts pop into your head in the middle of doing something else:

I spoke to a woman outside RuSan’s the other night. I was on a smoke break and so was she. She was digging through her purse with a cigarette dangling from her mouth and I offered her a light just as she found hers. So we started talking about the weather and which Hooter's was the best and she ended up telling me about a trip she’d taken on a motorcycle. “We kept to the back roads and only stopped to eat where the locals eat. We figured that the place with the most pick-up trucks outside was the local hang out and we usually got the best food and lowest prices at those places.” After a few minutes I realized that this woman was really cool.

I talked to my co-worker and buddy, Ron about it a little later and said to him that I was really glad I’d talked to her because she was with a party of people whom I’d served and my impression of them was terrible. If I hadn’t offered the lighter and hadn’t had the conversation I would have left that night with a totally wrong impression of her by association with her party.

People get crazy when they eat in restaurants. I know this because I work in one. Even though I know this I still fall into the trap of misjudging people. When it comes to food and restaurants all social normality and politeness falls away. People who keep their own kitchens as tidy as a surgery room will leave trash and bits of food and gum and toothpicks strewn about for their waiters to clean up (seriously people...I don't want your toothpicks..throw them away your own self). So you can’t always judge a person by the way they eat in restaurants (maybe first dates should remember that). But I still do judge people and it’s a shame that I do. I might be missing a lot of opportunities to hear great stories about motorcycle trips.

That’s what I mean though about things coming to you in the middle of doing something else. You get these flashes of comprehension all because you bothered to talk to a middle aged woman for two minutes about essentially nothing at all. I don’t think I could have mined that little life lesson from all the millions of thoughts in my head if I’d been sitting and thinking about it. Maybe you have to be doing life to understand life. Maybe you can’t sit and think everything to its logical conclusion. Instead the conclusions jump out at you when you’re out walking your dog, or ringing up a customer at the till (cash register) or plonking a plate of sushi in front of their nose. Maybe….

Something Inside Me....To Thine Own Self Be True

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I’m worried about where this is heading. Is it heading anywhere? Am I deluded? Should I just ‘get a job’ and do what everyone does? Maybe I should. But I’ve been down that road. I know what happens to me when I’m stuck in a job that I don’t want to be doing. I start to become someone I don’t want to be. I start to come unglued and disheveled. I start to become a bitter old man and I’m not even an old man. I become unhappy about pretty much everything. I start to die….just a little bit….every day. I lose that part of me that loves the sunshine. I forget how much I like to be outside. I forget the joy of feeling wind in my face.

I studied Biology in University. During our third year we went on a “field trip”. It was one of the most gratifying experiences of my college career. I remember coming home after ten days in Itala Game Reserve with scratches all lover my arms and legs from walking through thick African bush. Each day after we’d finished in the field we’d walk down to the river and sit in a small pool of water and check ourselves for ticks. We’d let the tiny fish nibble our skin. Each day we ate lunch off the back of a truck. It was horribly wonderful. At night we’d type our data into computers and then sit by a fire and talk.

The scratches hurt but I was kind of proud of them. I said to someone that walking through the bush, riding on the back of a truck, sleeping in a tent by a river, cooking in a makeshift kitchen for ten days, getting scratched and tick-bitten made me feel alive. I don’t remember most of what I studied… I remember that trip. I remember conversations and truck rides and scenery and moments. I remember it because for those ten days I was more alive than I had been during my entire time at University to that point.

We had to stop working one day because a rhinoceros was too close and the game guard thought he looked agitated. Walking with rhinos makes you feel alive. In 1996 I learned how to play the guitar and I wrote my first song. I still don’t know why or how but something about writing a song; something about performing it for people makes me feel alive the way working too close to a rhinoceros does.
I’ve had people tell me that I should be using my degree instead of working as a waiter. I’ve had people tell me that I shouldn’t be doing what I’m doing. To those people my response is this song.

I don’t like serving sushi one bit. I’m not even sure I like Nashville one bit. I don’t like worrying about money and whether I’m going to earn enough this month. I don’t like the demeaning nature of the job. I don’t like picking up after people and dealing with their “I deserve everything NOW!” attitudes.

I spent seven years in college studying something that I didn’t really want to do because…well..I had to study something. But the moment I wrote that first song I knew what I really wanted to do. There is a deep motivation in me to make this happen. It simmers in my soul. It’s a glowing coal that never dies.

I could give up and go make money designing pharmaceutical drugs, or working with genetically modified somethings. But I don’t want to do those things. I want to write songs. I want to play them for people. I won’t stop trying because…honestly…I can’t. Something inside of me won’t let me.

Nibs Van Der Spuy

When I started taking the whole music career seriously a few years ago and began performing on a regular basis in South Africa a lot of people kept asking me the same question; “Have you met Nibs?”. Everyone agreed I needed to meet Nibs and talk to Nibs. “What the heck is Nibs?” I thought. I was vaguely aware that someone named Nibs Van Der Spuy had been in a band called “Landscape Prayers” that had been pretty popular in South Africa when I was in high school or maybe university, but I wasn’t certain that the Nibs everyone was asking me about was the same guy. It seemed like everyone had met Nibs but me. Finally someone gave me his number and I called him up. We arranged to meet for coffee and a few days later I wrote this piece. Since our first meeting I’ve bumped into Nibs a few times and he really is a genuinely good guy.

One of the things Nibs told me to do was to record an album. I had done demos and demos and demos and had even released an EP but had never done a full album in studio. In a strange way he made it seem very important and at the same time managed to convey that I should relax and just get the thing done. I think he was probably instrumental in getting me to that place where I believed an album was the ‘essential’ next step.

SNAPSHOT: NIBS VAN DER SPUY

According to John Mayer, “Belief is a beautiful armor”. What makes belief so beautiful is that it cuts through all the ‘stuff’ of life that makes you feel like you’re nothing or wrong or worthless; the ‘stuff’ that just leaves you tired, sick to your stomach and wanting to run away. Sitting on a black pleather couch at some little coffee shop somewhere I’m feeling fairly hopeful that my life and my career could be looking up.

Much like the rather orange cushion I placed to one side when I sat down, my anxiety over the music industry and my place in it has momentarily been shelved. “You’ve got to get out there and take the music to the people, Tim. In the beginning they won’t always come to you. But if you believe in what you’re doing then you’ve just got to do it.” Nibs’ eyes are bright as he speaks to me from across the coffee table amidst orange cushions and black pleather. Enthusiastically bobbing its agreement, his braided, beaded goatee nicely punctuates this wisdom like a flashing exclamation point. Belief practically oozes from this easy-going, but clearly energetic man; a quiet confidence that he’s on the right path and that everything will be o.k.

Cars need petrol. Cows need grass. Belief needs feeding just the same. That powerful force that enabled men to walk on the moon and build churches in the jungle and sometimes just ‘keep on trucking’ is the same thing that got me here talking to Nibs. Certainly it wasn’t a direct route. It all started in a Biology lab a few years ago, sometime between teaching Sexual Reproduction to my Grade 9s and The Digestive System to my Grade 12s, with the seeds of belief.

Those seeds have names like; “I can”, “I have something unique to share”, “If they can do it, so can I”, I really want this more than anything”, “I will try”, “I won’t give up until I’ve done this”. With seeds such as those great journeys begin. But as the days turn to weeks and months and years the seeds are sometimes forgotten, buried in muck and dirt from too many frustrations and too many unrewarded efforts.

Suddenly though, while sharing a coffee with Nibs amidst the orange and black, I’m reminded of my seeds. Nibs’ belief in what he’s doing stirs something in me and I realize that while my seeds of belief may have been battered and bruised they haven’t gone anywhere. They’ve begun to sprout and are soaking up the good energy that seems to be a part of Nibs. My belief in myself, so hard-won, so tired and fading, is being fed by the belief of another.

Consuming our coffees we talk about integrity and sound engineers and the perils of being pigeon-holed as an artist. Our CDs have been exchanged and we’ve each discovered a new thing and it’s time to head our separate ways. Belief is a beautiful armor and with guys like Nibs around that armor will stay polished and gleaming and the journey will continue. Thanks Nibs.

Please do check out Nibs for yourself here: http://www.nibs.co.za/site/home

ESJAY (JONES?)

Note: this was the first interview-type-thing I ever did with an artist. Esjay is one of the coolest people I know and she's always been a good friend. Her life and sacrifice for her music were one of the reasons I eventually decided to pursue my own dreams. I wish her all the success in the world. This article was written in 2008......

Taking a meanderous route through the winding streets of Westville, past the prison, round the bend and down the lane I arrive at Face Studios to meet up with Esjay, lead singer and front person for the Durban-band Stealing Love Jones. The band has been recording a new album with American producer Bjorn Thorsrud, who’s done work with the likes of The Smashing Pumpkins, Shania Twain and The Dandy Worhols, tentatively titled “Bleed To Bloom” and due for release in South Africa and North America in late September.

Sitting on my fuzzy, studio stool, I’m doing my best to stay in the background as Esjay does some tra-la-las, warming up in the vocal booth in the background and Bjorn fiddles with buttons and knobs in the control room. “Can, can you here me? Awright, one for level…”. Cue music and there’s Esjay, suddenly in the zone, feeling her way through “Hospital”. Outside in the garage-come-foyer, Jason Every, guitarist for Stealing Love Jones, is napping on the sofa. He’s waiting to record the final guitar tracks for the album.

“Take a break.” Says Bjorn and with that Esjay makes us a cuppa. Two sugars and milk for me. Honey and Jack Daniels for her. “It helps the vocals.” She says. Over a steaming cup, Esjay offers a little inside info on the recent Stealing Love Jones tour of North America. “In the first 11 days we did the equivalent of the Durban to Cape Town drive 6 times. We all got a wake-up call over there. We were paying 8 dollars to sleep and shower in truck-stops along the way. Emotionally and physically it was very hard and made us all feel so blessed to have come from a place (South Africa) where we are loved and supported.” Jason, still sleepy-eyed on the couch, says they were driving a senior-citizens van and pulling a trailer. He elaborates, surprisingly talkative for having just woken up, “Six hours of driving, an hour to unpack and set up the rig, an hour of sound check and rehearsals, then waiting for 4 or 5 hours for the show. We’d do the gig and then pack up and hit the road again to haul anywhere between six and thirty hours in one go! It was work. Fun, but hard work.”

Esjay, speaking of the album name says, “We’ve all been through so much. I’m thinking of calling the album “Bleed to Bloom”. Taken aback, I confess to Esjay that I think any artist will know exactly what that name means. “Sometimes it’s just the vision of so many people believing in you and your dream that keeps you going.”, she says.

I ask Esjay what it’s been like returning home. She tells me the pace hasn’t eased much. After a quick tour of S.A. with Sarah Bettens (K’s Choice) the band hit the studio again. “Bjorn has been working from 7am-7pm for the past three weeks… we’ve been working until 1am for the past three days to finish vocals and all the quirky stuff. He’s leaving in two days so we’re pushing to finish the guitars and vocals on the last three songs of the album. We have a benefit concert in Zimbabwe on the 4th July in support of the community of Bulawayo. It’s a bold and pioneering move in the current climate of political uncertainty there. We wanted to go against the grain and do the opposite of what everyone else is doing. After that we hope to return to North America and gain some more ground there. It’s scary because I’m leaving everything that’s comfortable. I know there are thousands of others out there trying to do what we’re trying to do but I’m comfortable with it. I can’t see myself doing anything else. Jason and I wrote a song together called “99” and it describes that feeling in the lyrics, “I SEE THIS AS DESTINY… I SEE THIS WRITTEN ALL OVER ME.”

As I sit on my fuzzy chair sipping my tea I listen to Esjay, now singing again from the vocal booth. A couple of lines keep repeating in my head, “Days turn to night…to the echo..to the echo..to the echo…forever…forever.” It seems to me that this life of touring and studios, singing the sun down and long into the night, the endlessly repeating cycle of writing, recording, gigging and touring is Esjay… forever.
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For information on Stealing Love Jones, including music, tour dates, management and booking info, check out http://www.lovejonesband.com/ or WWW.MYSPACE.COM/LOVEJONESBAND

My America

I stepped off the plane from South Africa, in Washington, DC. I went outside and smoked a cigarette and surveyed what I could see of the city. It was early morning and gleaming. I saw people with coffees and cell phones looking busy and badly dressed.

I used to drive by Africans waiting at the bus stop on North Coast Road in my home town of Durban, South Africa. Those Africans had something I never saw in the fabulous people that lived in my neighborhood and went to gym at Virgin Active in La Lucia. They carried a sadness with them that was visible even when they were smiling. There was a hardness to them that couldn’t be covered up with their clothes.

I live in Nashville, Tennessee now. My neighbors; the people I see at the gas stations and in the malls all have that sadness I used to see in the Africans. I used to think that it was there because of the injustice of the lives of the African people. Living in their squatter camps and villages and commuting into nice neighborhoods every day to work. But here I see people who weren’t politically abused or unjustly oppressed living in a kind of squalor that that they bought into of their own free will. They have more money here and they have more stuff, nicer clothes, better cars, i-phones, i-pods, good jobs. But they’re just as lost and hopeless as those Africans who are still standing at that bus-stop every day.

The America in my memory is a backyard next to a football field with warm summer rains and bare-chested summer days. The America in my memory is a friendly place full of familiar places and things and routines. The America in my memory is proud and right and confident and righteous and just. Now it seems America has doubts. There is an awareness among Americans that maybe things are changing. All that seemed so sure and steady; our position in the world, our economy, our jobs are in question. “Where are our troops?”, “Why are they there?”, “Are we fighting the right battles?”, “Are we right?”; These are the questions America is asking. Where is my America now? Maybe it was only ever in my head.

Street signs bark at me everywhere I drive. “Jimmy’s Auto Parts and Repair” shouts in peeling paint. “Kroger” screams high atop its mast; a scream that can be heard a mile down the road. America is strip malls, signage and parking lots. America is fast food. America is fat people. America is BIG. Big is good. Bigger is better. Big cars. Big trucks. Big movie theatres. Big popcorn. Big people. Big houses. Big highways. Big signs. Big churches. Big sin. America is fast.
America is cars on highways always moving, always going, always driving. Where are you going America?

America is vast and beautiful. From the sky she is mountains, plains, trees and water. Rigid cities rise from the earth. They look small and peaceful, surrounded by so much nature, dwarfed by mountains. Tiny roads like symmetrical arteries spread and fade into the distance.

America is 9 to 5 and 5 til late. America never goes home. Always moving, eating, going, doing, meeting, greeting, partying, playing, running, gymming, driving, watching, seeing, using, buying, selling.

I am 32. My generation expects so much and appreciates so little. Everything is a ‘given’. Everything is taken for granted. There is no country where this is more apparent than in America.

But I love America. She is my home. She is my people. She is opportunity upon opportunity. She is welcoming and warm. She is a Sunday afternoon nap. She is a symphony of cultures, sometimes dissonant, but always music. She is free. She is everyone matters. She is a conversation with a stranger. She is speak your mind. She is wealthy.

America is a personal journey that for me has just begun.