VENU Magazine #14 July/August 2012

Page 72

MUSIC: Interview

future royalties and I was “hooked” (pardon the pun) on song writing.” Not to reveal your age to our readers but you grew up during a musically and culturally free era and you managed to hitchhike across the U.S. several times— how did that time of adventure inspire your music? “The guitar was usually with me on all of those trips— it probably helped identify me as a “friendly sort” to those who drove by me, some picking me up, some not. I’m not sure there’s a direct or conscious correlation, but landscape is often a part of the song lyric, and having examined every pebble from coast to coast, it provided a large geographic and human palette from which to draw.” You have a high level corporate career in technology in a complex industry and you perform as a musician multiple times a week and often weekends. How do you balance your “Clark Kent” day job with your musical passion and creativity? “Sleep is a precious commodity, trains are a songwriter’s best friend, and being a Gemini may come into play.” Where is your favorite place to perform? “Anywhere that people come for the music first… though I do have a fondness for small theatres.” You seem rather humble so I doubt you play at the company holiday party or summer picnic but don’t you want everyone in that big limestone building on Madison Avenue to hear your music? “There are many examples of artists who have held demanding corporate positions while creating high quality art; Wallace Stevens comes to mind, and I doubt recitals were a part of his 9 to 5 day. As for everyone hearing the music, it’s such an individual preference, so hearing may not be the same as enjoying. Having the two worlds collide might be interesting for a short time, but then we’d all have to get back to work.” I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask about the first commercially successful song you wrote—“The Big Kiss”— what can you tell us about it? “The “Big Kiss” is a classic case of a good song gone wrong. I’d written it in response to one of my pop songwriter friends to prove I could write more than “art” songs. To my surprise, it was quickly covered by a number of artists, and also drew interest from several music publishers. I was also performing the song at local clubs in New York, where Joe Mardin, son of the late Arif Mardin, brought it to the attention of his father. First, let me say, it’s the privilege of a lifetime to have had one the world’s best music producers in Arif Mardin select the song as the single and title of the record. I was a young, struggling writer/artist in need of professional recognition. There’s nothing like having a single on an Arif Mardin-produced album to cure that. I was living in a 13x6 boarding room on the Upper West Side, and having Warner Brothers Music Publishing call me up and invite me to lunch to discuss contracts wasn’t something I was used to. The song was destined for a pop artist in England named Thereza Bazar, who’d had success with a Trevor Horn-produced group called Dollar. She was being managed in the U.S. by Champion who had

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CONTEMPORARY CULTURE//MAGAZINE

Photo: Chris Schmauch

Foreigner and other famous bands on their artist roster. I’d heard a rough mix of the record at Atlantic studios and it sounded great, big and crunchy, chock full of rock guitar. No question it was headed for the Top 40 on the billboard charts. A few weeks later I was sent a copy of the video, which was being released in England, along with the single. All the guitar was gone, replaced by bubblegum pop-synth, and the video was directed as a campy teen horror flick. Think Austin Powers without the humor. Now I’d been prescient enough to take a cash advance from Warner on the publishing, but any notion of the song becoming a hit died with that video and the mix. How it changed from New York to London, I’m not sure I’ll ever know. You described songwriting as not revealing everything to the listener—what do you mean? What’s writing outside of the box? For me, writing outside the box means circumventing the obvious, not reciting precisely what’s occurred, but rather painting the outline so that a listener follows the author’s intended path. Think of a classic song like “Ode to Billie Joe.” Nowhere in the lyric does the listener hear precisely what’s happened, but everyone knows what’s been tossed into the muddy water off the Tallahatchie Bridge. Bobbie Gentry brilliantly defines the picture for us via family dinner dialog, seemingly innocent details, and metaphor, all counterposed against the one thing that’s not said. That’s great songwriting. The theory applies to many different formats, written and otherwise, but is especially crucial in a song where the story is limited to a few verses. Each phrase, each word carries weight. What’s on your iPod—what do you listen to on your daily commute? Who currently influences your music? “Hmmm, let’s see, current iPod rotation includes Jeff Finlin, Amy Correa, Buddy & Julie Miller, Vince Guaraldi, Robert Plant’s “Band of Joy” (produced by Buddy Miller, love his guitar tone), a jazz standards re-issue that includes Miles, Mingus, Coltrane, Monk, et al, and Tom Waits’ “Bad As Me.” As for influences, you are what you eat, so all of the above. Throw in Little Feat (Lowell George era), some John Hiatt, Steely Dan, and that’s some kinda elevator music.”

David Ray’s songs have been sung by artists such as Grammy winner Shawn Colvin, Dove Award winner Kathy Troccoli, and recorded by producers from Rick Wake to Arif Mardin. David’s earliest Fast Folk recordings are now a part of the permanent collection at The Smithsonian Center for Folklife Heritage. His latest solo acoustic album, “Time Wounds All Heels,” is available for purchase on iTunes. Additional videos and music samples, along with a performance schedule, can be found at reverbnation.com/davidray.


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