MIKE DEAN Singer-songwriter. Find all songs on iTunes or cdbaby.com
SHOWS
Tuesday, May 01, 2012
7 and 7
It was probably sometime in '05 that I was driving down some highway when I reached down into the door compartment, pulled out a pen and blank notecard, and wrote the phrase "7 and 7". I put it above my head in the ideas file (or visor, as some call it) with all the rest of the titles, rhymes, road names, quotes, signs, etc. that had struck me as somewhat interesting prior to this one. The band and I were having the time of our lives playing any place that would let us in the door. We had a song called 'Bottle goes down' that was getting lots of local airplay and this whole music thing was still brand new to me.
In '07 I moved into a cool upstairs studio apartment with 20 foot high ceilings, old cypress walls, a ladder to a loft where the bed was, a bar within rock throwing distance, and cool neighbors. There was a big table made of old cypress in the corner. I put all of my song ideas in the upper left hand corner of that table. I'd sit there with my Martin guitar and go through these ideas, waiting for a chord and a lyric to ignite. Sometimes it was a Sunday morning while drinking coffee, sometimes it was late Tuesday night while drinking a cold beer. It was a good place to write. It rained a lot that year, and a train passed 3 or 4 times a day. Drew Landry stopped by often to play me his latest tune. I think he must have written a song a day back then. He had rented the place before me, until venturing across the street to open up Bourque's.
One night I came across an old notecard. I read it aloud. "7 and 7". The train passed. Long after the whistle was fading, the rumble of the last car gave way to silence, and as if on que, I hit the first notes and opening line , "early in the morning, I get up and leave your side. I throw my bag on the chopper, we take off and we fly". About a year later Travis Domingue and I were at J. Burton's studio, laying the ground work for what would become "Woods". It's hard to believe it was 2008 that we presented that album to you. It doesn't feel like that long ago, but so much has changed. I still had a PC then, I mean, I'm writing this on a phone! Someone posted a recording of 7 and 7 on YouTube a couple of years ago. The lyrics appear as the song plays. I'm thankful for this. I'm thankful that someone was so moved by that song that they took the time to do that. I recently saw that it had over 20,000 plays (or views, if you prefer). Congratulations, 7 and 7. You're bigger than me. Thank you for what you've done for myself and those who share their musical talents with my songs.
I write this in anticipation of our new album, Middle Ground. I wonder which songs will come to life on stage, or which one I'll be blessed to hear by chance on the radio. Will there ever be another 7 and 7? It doesn't matter. There is one, and now there is Middle Ground.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
Costa Rica
I'm listening to Ryan Bingham's Junky Star right now, and it's damn good. I was wondering why I didn't hear more about this album, but then I realized it rode out the wake of a Grammy. I can't imagine how tough it must be to follow a Grammy.
I remember a night in '02 or '03 when I watched this skinny kid from Texas with a too big for his head cowboy hat tear up the stage at the Blue Moon Saloon. Even then his voice sounded 40 years older than he looked. He moved really cool on stage, tall and lanky, but in control, like a wave. He had an album for sale at the time called "Wishbone Saloon". I approached him after the show to ask how much for a cd, and he replied like a really bad salesman, "only fifteen dawlors." I was laughing as I handed him the cash, and he just laughed back as he put my money in his pocket and walked away. I wore that cd out. It was an acoustic album, and almost all of the songs on it were featured later on his major label release, Mescalito, including Southside of Heaven which we play sometimes at sound-check. If you listen to Southside of Heaven, then listen to my song Dusty Trigger from Hours Later, you'll notice I tried to play the same lick on the harmonica. (if you're a beginning harmonica player, there is great article by Jake Kelly in last month's American Songwriter all about the harp. He claims Bob Dylan once said "the harmonica is the best selling instrument in the world. You're welcome." good stuff!)
Ken and I had a couple of things left to do on Hours Later, and were on our way to to the home of Steve Stubblefield (musician, engineer, producer on Hours Later) in Jackson, Mississippi back in '04. We had stopped in a music store in Baton Rouge along the way for Ken to grab some strings, and just for the hell of it, I bought a Hohner harmonica, key of 'G' (of course). We had the rough mix playing in the truck on the ride up to Jackson (where I'm from, everywhere is up), and I just played along the best I could. By the time we got to Steve's studio I had somewhat figured out a harmonica part for Cash Conversation. I was trying to make it sound like a train, and it was good enough at the time. I had Southside of Heaven in my head, and I tried mimicking it's harmonica part while fooling around to Dusty Trigger. By the time I got lost, found the beer store, got lost again, and found Steve's studio, he and Ken were already done. "let's lay down some harp", Steve said. At the time, it was good enough for what we wanted to do. I haven't played harmonica on an album since. Troy Richard took the honors on Must've had a good time, and Blake Simon played on Woods.
There's a song on the new album called Riding Dead Horses. It is, in a way, a tribute to Ryan Bingham and that Wishbone Saloon album that I spent so much time listening to back when I first started playing music.
I had intended this blog to be about my time in Costa Rica this summer. I wanted to write about how friendly the people are, how beautiful the Pacific coast is, how cool the School of the World is, how good the fruit and coffee are being they don't spend days on a truck, how hard it was for me to paddle out past the breakers on a surfboard, try to stand up on it, and how much fun it was falling off a couple of hundred times. But Junky Star is playing.
I remember a night in '02 or '03 when I watched this skinny kid from Texas with a too big for his head cowboy hat tear up the stage at the Blue Moon Saloon. Even then his voice sounded 40 years older than he looked. He moved really cool on stage, tall and lanky, but in control, like a wave. He had an album for sale at the time called "Wishbone Saloon". I approached him after the show to ask how much for a cd, and he replied like a really bad salesman, "only fifteen dawlors." I was laughing as I handed him the cash, and he just laughed back as he put my money in his pocket and walked away. I wore that cd out. It was an acoustic album, and almost all of the songs on it were featured later on his major label release, Mescalito, including Southside of Heaven which we play sometimes at sound-check. If you listen to Southside of Heaven, then listen to my song Dusty Trigger from Hours Later, you'll notice I tried to play the same lick on the harmonica. (if you're a beginning harmonica player, there is great article by Jake Kelly in last month's American Songwriter all about the harp. He claims Bob Dylan once said "the harmonica is the best selling instrument in the world. You're welcome." good stuff!)
Ken and I had a couple of things left to do on Hours Later, and were on our way to to the home of Steve Stubblefield (musician, engineer, producer on Hours Later) in Jackson, Mississippi back in '04. We had stopped in a music store in Baton Rouge along the way for Ken to grab some strings, and just for the hell of it, I bought a Hohner harmonica, key of 'G' (of course). We had the rough mix playing in the truck on the ride up to Jackson (where I'm from, everywhere is up), and I just played along the best I could. By the time we got to Steve's studio I had somewhat figured out a harmonica part for Cash Conversation. I was trying to make it sound like a train, and it was good enough at the time. I had Southside of Heaven in my head, and I tried mimicking it's harmonica part while fooling around to Dusty Trigger. By the time I got lost, found the beer store, got lost again, and found Steve's studio, he and Ken were already done. "let's lay down some harp", Steve said. At the time, it was good enough for what we wanted to do. I haven't played harmonica on an album since. Troy Richard took the honors on Must've had a good time, and Blake Simon played on Woods.
There's a song on the new album called Riding Dead Horses. It is, in a way, a tribute to Ryan Bingham and that Wishbone Saloon album that I spent so much time listening to back when I first started playing music.
I had intended this blog to be about my time in Costa Rica this summer. I wanted to write about how friendly the people are, how beautiful the Pacific coast is, how cool the School of the World is, how good the fruit and coffee are being they don't spend days on a truck, how hard it was for me to paddle out past the breakers on a surfboard, try to stand up on it, and how much fun it was falling off a couple of hundred times. But Junky Star is playing.
Wednesday, July 06, 2011
I recently purchased my first eBook. As I write this, I can't even think of the title, but the author is Derek Sivers. He is the guy who started CDBABY.com back in 1998. All he wanted to do was sell his band's cd online. The online distributors at the time wanted nothing to do with independent artists. After some hard work he ended up with a "buy now" button on his site, which was a huge deal at the time. The next thing he knew his friends started asking him to sell their cd online, then their friends, then theirs, and so on. CDBABY was born. About 10 years later he sold the company for 22 million.
I write this not to share another story of a guy who started with nothing and became rich, but to share what I found to be his best point. It seems everyone we know goes through life waiting for their life's purpose to "hit them like a bolt of lighting", that big "a-ha!" moment. But if you look at people who have become truly successful and happy with their life's work (and life), it is those who gradually ended up where they are today. They take the time to look around at all of the small good things going on, rather than looking forward to a big bang (do I need to tell the story about the tortoise and the hare?) Constantly waiting, wishing, and hoping for what's next is what causes most to comment on how fast time goes by.
Time to time I'm asked if I think I'll ever "make it big" or if my goal is to be "big time". When this happens I always think back to that Hondo pawn shop guitar that sat in the corner of my room for a couple of years before I picked it up. I think about my fingers hurting trying to learn the F chord. I think about Buck and I in the fire shop out in Broussard talking about music and our favorite artists, how cool it must be to play music. Then the day Hours Later showed up via UPS. All the friends and fans we've met along the way. Empty bars and packed houses. Meeting Robert Earl Keen, Pat Green, playing for their thousands of fans. My days (and nights) in Nashville. Hearing our songs on the radio. All of this is a result of the first time I was able to form a G chord and let it ring. That old Hondo could still be sitting in the corner, and I'd have a lot less friends, and a lot less memories.
Here's to a cool rainy day in St. Martin Parish, and to turning around every now and then to see how far you've come, rather than looking ahead.
MIKE
I write this not to share another story of a guy who started with nothing and became rich, but to share what I found to be his best point. It seems everyone we know goes through life waiting for their life's purpose to "hit them like a bolt of lighting", that big "a-ha!" moment. But if you look at people who have become truly successful and happy with their life's work (and life), it is those who gradually ended up where they are today. They take the time to look around at all of the small good things going on, rather than looking forward to a big bang (do I need to tell the story about the tortoise and the hare?) Constantly waiting, wishing, and hoping for what's next is what causes most to comment on how fast time goes by.
Time to time I'm asked if I think I'll ever "make it big" or if my goal is to be "big time". When this happens I always think back to that Hondo pawn shop guitar that sat in the corner of my room for a couple of years before I picked it up. I think about my fingers hurting trying to learn the F chord. I think about Buck and I in the fire shop out in Broussard talking about music and our favorite artists, how cool it must be to play music. Then the day Hours Later showed up via UPS. All the friends and fans we've met along the way. Empty bars and packed houses. Meeting Robert Earl Keen, Pat Green, playing for their thousands of fans. My days (and nights) in Nashville. Hearing our songs on the radio. All of this is a result of the first time I was able to form a G chord and let it ring. That old Hondo could still be sitting in the corner, and I'd have a lot less friends, and a lot less memories.
Here's to a cool rainy day in St. Martin Parish, and to turning around every now and then to see how far you've come, rather than looking ahead.
MIKE
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Sense beats cents
(taken from http://www.jeremiahthompson.com/)
An American Businessman was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellow fin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them. The Mexican replied only a little while.
The American then asked why didn’t he stay out longer and catch more fish? The Mexican said he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs. The American then asked, but what do you with the rest of your time? The Mexican said, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life, senor.”
The American scoffed, “I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds buy a bigger boat, with the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats, eventually you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA, and eventually NYC where you will run your expanding enterprise.”
The Mexican fisherman asked, “But Senor how long will this all take?” To which the American replied “15-20 years.”
“But what then Senor?”
The American laughed and said “That’s the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions.”
“Millions, Senor? Then what?”
The American said “Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you could sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you would sip wine and play guitar with your amigos.”
An American Businessman was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellow fin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them. The Mexican replied only a little while.
The American then asked why didn’t he stay out longer and catch more fish? The Mexican said he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs. The American then asked, but what do you with the rest of your time? The Mexican said, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life, senor.”
The American scoffed, “I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds buy a bigger boat, with the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats, eventually you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA, and eventually NYC where you will run your expanding enterprise.”
The Mexican fisherman asked, “But Senor how long will this all take?” To which the American replied “15-20 years.”
“But what then Senor?”
The American laughed and said “That’s the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions.”
“Millions, Senor? Then what?”
The American said “Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you could sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you would sip wine and play guitar with your amigos.”
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
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