“Less talk, more producing,” she said. “Did you want me to do another album, or was the first one enough?”
I laughed again. “If either of us ever want to retire, I think we’ll have to write a few more songs,” I said.
“That’s what I thought.”
In many ways, the sophomore album is even more important than the debut. Now you’ve got eyes on you. Now you’ve got anticipation. You’ve managed to get their attention with something shiny, and they’re wondering if you’re capable of doing it again.
If you’re not, you’re done.
Jasmine
If Ryan was a perfectionist while writingRyan Holding, she was obsessive aboutFirebird. I talked to Skip a million times—don’tever say that thing to her, don’t even mention the wordshiny. No metaphors. You’re only going to get in her head.
I think Ryan felt the pressure instinctively, though. It’s tough going it alone. At that point, we still kind of had a revolving-door band backing her; I know she was wanting better camaraderie with her musicians that just wasn’t there yet. One of Skip’s goals, which was somewhat contingent on the success of album two, was to put together a good, strong backing band with long-term contracts. Maybe even get some dancers, because Ryan was showing a theater kid’s affinity for making up her own moves on the spot and working the crowd.
We had to solidify our foundation before having those conversations. But I told her not to think about any of that—your job isn’t to focus on anything but your music.
There was one day in the studio when Ryan was almost doubled over with the effort of lyric writing for “Didn’t You Realize.” She was literally hunched over her banjo. She was stuck on the chorus and didn’t like any of the rhymes I suggested forrealize. I noticed that she had a habit of tugging at her earlobes when she was stressed, and she was yanking on her left one pretty hard just then. So I said, “Hey, kiddo, let’s take a walk.”
She stared at me, wide-eyed. “We’re not done.”
“We’re not getting anywhere,” I said. “So come on. Fresh air always helps.”
We walked all the way to Jim-Jim’s Water-Ice on Sixth—god, I still miss that place—and got Italian ice together. Melon ball for me and strawberry kiwi for her. And I said, “I know you’re not having writer’s block. I saw you with your notebook all throughout the Southwest Sands tour. So what is it?”
Ryan didn’t answer for a little bit. Then she said, “I’ve got a lot of material, yeah. But it all sounds ... different.”
“Different how?”
“It’s not like my first album,” she said. “And my first album was what got me here—I know I don’t have to do the same exact thing again, but that’s what everyonelikedthe first time.”
“That’s true,” I said. “But they also likedyou. They liked what you did with the music that was authentic to you. And this album will also be authentic to you.”
She took a deep breath and sounded exasperated. “A lot of what I wrote is about being on tour. About meeting new people and going to parties.”
“So? Write what you know; it’s good advice for a reason.”
“Going on tour is not very bluegrass.” She took a big scoop of her water ice, and I realized we’d gotten to the crux of the problem. “Doc Watson never wrote about being offered pills by someone who models sunglasses for a living.”
I stopped short and said, “You didn’t take any, did you?”
“Pills? No.”
I’m twenty-four years sober this year, I’m damn proud to say. And I owe that to Skip and the environment at Madcap, where having a seventeen-year-old as a coworker really contributed to that success.
“Those things will mess you up,” I told Ryan. “I’m fucking serious, it’s not worth it. Okay?”
I wanted to drive my point home. She looked embarrassed and said, “Yeah, Iknow. Okay.”
“Okay, good,” I said. “So I can pretend I didn’t hear that if your mother ever asks.”
“She won’t.” I remember Ryan stirring her ice very aggressively.
“But anyway, you’re wrong,” I said. “Haven’t you heard ‘The Junkie’s Prayer’? ‘Mama Tried’? There’s such a thing as dark country. Not that that’s what you’re writing, but you know—your bluegrass can be whatever you want it to be. A traditional genre plus mixed with your own experiences and modern ideas—that’s what makes it original.”
She’d recovered a bit from my scare-you-straight. “That’s true,” she said.
“And don’t tell Skip I said this,” I went on. “But say you put your heart and soul into this album and it flops. So what? If people don’t want to hear what you have to say, do you want their money anyway?”
