Huffington Post Entertainment: The Soundtrack Of My Life – Premiere

Premiere of “It’s Not The Spotlight” – EP Appleonfire will be released Feb 17th

A Conversation with Louise Goffin ♠ Premiere

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Huffington Post Entertainment: The Soundtrack Of My Life – Premiere

Mike Ragogna: Let’s talk about your Appleonfire EP. As they say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, you being the daughter of Gerry Goffin and Carole King. It seems like a logical approach to do a project of your parents’ recordings, but this goes beyond that. The EP also features a song you co-wrote with your father, a long lost Goffin/King composition and a couple of your own songs. How did the idea behind this project start?

Louise Goffin: It started with “It’s Not The Spotlight.” When my father passed away I was doing a house concert the next day. I always loved that song of his. He’s written so many great songs but that one really had his essence because he sang it. He didn’t really think of himself much as a singer but in 1973 he went to Mussel Shoals and made a double record and sung all of the vocals on it. Most of it was a political record, but there were some songs that later got covered and became hits and charted with other artists, and “It’s Not The Spotlight” was one of them. At his memorial gathering I saw his co-writer Barry Goldberg and I said, “Oh, I just played your song.” He said it would really be a great thing to go and record it, so that was the start of the whole EP.

MR: And then the thought got bigger, you recorded that song, and it snowballed.

LG: Yeah, that is what happened. There were all these fantastic musicians who I wanted to play with, and when he said, “Let’s record that song” I thought, “If I’m going to call all these amazing musicians who have expressed interest in working with me, it doesn’t make sense to record just one song.” So I played Barry a couple of brand new songs of mine, a few of them are on the record, “Everything You Need” and “Higher Than Low,” and he loved them.

MR: And then Jakob Dylan came in?

LG: Jakob Dylan guests on a Goffin/King song because at MusiCares a year ago he and I sang a Goffin and King song together and I mentioned to Barry, “Why don’t we ask Jakob to sing on a Goffin/King song?” So that actually happened, he came down and sang on “Take A Giant Step.” I love that song so much.  So that was the Jakob Dylan connection, and that was four songs we did in one day.  For it to really be a substantial EP I need two more songs. I was really asking the universe, “What should the other two songs be?” I went through a lot of obscure songs my father wrote. I didn’t want to do the heavily-covered songs that everyone had known, I wanted to find something more under the radar. That song, “If I’m late,” was on YouTube and I had never heard it. I also remembered that my dad and I had written the song, “I’m Not Rich But I’m Not Poor.” I’d always wanted to do something with it, he and I talked about making a demo of it last year or a couple of years ago, but I got really busy and we couldn’t do it. I thought those were really good choices for the other two songs.

MR: Yeah. So the expression behind the title “I’m Not Rich But I’m Not Poor” came from your grandfather, right? Gerry’s dad?

LG: Yes, it was something that he told me, that his father used to say to him.

MR: I love the concept of finding one of your parents rare songs on YouTube. It’s almost like the song reached out to you.

LG: I would be very aware of songs that my father sang lead vocal on because it was such a rare thing, but to find a demo of a song they wrote and he sings lead and my mother harmonizes throughout the entire song like an old Everly Brothers-style duet but with these really romantic lyrics… And I love the message, “If I’m late, say you’re gonna wait for me.” I often say that to people. [laughs]

MR: Louise, is it possible it was written for the Everlys?

LG: No, there’s really no connection, I just brought it up because of the style. That song was apparently written in 1969. ’69 was a very transitional, bumpy year because we had all moved to LA in ’68, so I’m sure there were separations and a lot of starting over again in a new place with two little girls. I’m sure they could’ve written that song and gone and demoed it and it could’ve ended up on some demo reel at a publishing company and then my mother went on to make The City or something. I think a lot of songwriters churn out so much stuff that sometimes things just fall through the cracks. It just ends up on a publishing tape somewhere. So that was amazing. Recording it with Joseph Arthur was also very synchronistic because I knew it needed someone who had a bit of my father’s style. In fact, I switched it so I was singing the lead on it and had to change a couple of gender-specific words here and there.

I was at Village Recording Studio asking around, “Who do I get to sing on this one?” Jeff Greenberg who owns Village said, “Oh, there’s this guy, John Alagia knows him,” John’s a wonderful musician and producer. I call John to ask who this guy was he was working with. It turned out it was someone he had worked with several years earlier. A few weeks later, John’s in one city, Joe’s in another and I’m in LA and John’s making introductions via text. It turned out that Joseph was on tour and was only going to be in New York for the one week that I was going to be in New York in October but he said he’d love to do it. I went over to his place in Brooklyn and we finished up that song. I’d already cut the track but we did all the vocals and some overdubs and made a video all in the space of four hours one afternoon.

MR: This is your seventh album?

LG: I think that’s right – my seventh solo record.

MR: What was the studio experience like for Appleonfire?

LG: It was one of those heightened experiences in life. I really was saying, “I can’t believe I’m here with these incredible musicians and awesome people.” Bob Glaub has been very supportive, when I did the Carole King record he was playing bass on that, and I forgot what a monster Bob is as a bass player. He’s amazing. We live around the same side of town, and he’s been  amazingly supportive, and played on all of the recordings that I’ve been doing since the Carole record, and at times playing on shows if the shows are in town. I hadn’t played with Jim Keltner since I was probably a teen. I called Jim I think within the last year asking him to play and he was booked that day. We had a great conversation and caught up and he said, “Call me again.” So this was the session I called him again. Val McCallum I saw play with his band Jackshit, have you seen them? He’s just an insanely talented guitar slinger. The whole history of soul and country and twang and all of it is in his fingertips. It’s all so accessible to him. And then Barry Goldberg himself, who was co-producing on that session of four songs, he’s one of the best B3 players out there.

MR: And you were given the studio gratis by Jackson Browne.

LG: Yes, and that’s another amazing story. My father passed away and I really wanted to do this thing, to cover his songs and make it celebratory in his honor. A lot of people felt that love and affection for him. I called Chris Aaron who I wrote “Higher Than Low” with, and I said, “Chris, you’re not going to believe it, I’m going to record our song, I’m just waiting to hear back from Jackson about whether the band and I can get any studio time. He said, “Jackson’s sitting right next to me. We just played a show together in Madison, Wisconsin.” I heard back soon from Ed Wong, who manages the studio and there was just this one Monday free. I swear to you, every single musician that I wanted was free only on that day we had a studio.

MR: [laughs] It was meant to be.

LG: The tragic thing is that Chris Aaron passed away a month later.

MR: Sorry about his passing, Louise. So Nathaniel Kunkel mixed the project, Niko Bolas engineered, and you recorded it in Jackson Browne’s studio. Nice.

LG:  A lot of the cats who were in the studio that day are people who I’ve known since I was eighteen. They knew me when I was young and just having fun making records. I didn’t have adult responsibilities, I was just a kid having fun in the studio, Danny Kortchmar was producing and all that. Now I’m taking the reigns and producing and being the record company and self-distributing and making the calls. Just to be in a room with all of those people who I love so much, I  feel so blessed, beyond blessed, to be able to have that continuity in spite of life having no continuity whatsoever. It’s really the people who you know and the people in your life who bring the continuity through all those different changes. To be here, so far down the path and be in the room with all of these same incredible musicians, and also realizing that they’re there for me, not because of a record company.

MR: These days, the role of producer is almost like a godfather or an advisor or a mentor compared to before when producers were totally hands-on.

LG: Yeah. The closest thing that I can think of is parenting. Yes, you’re in a room with musicians and musicians are like a bunch of kids, but I’m one of the kids too. Jim Keltner explained it perfectly. You can hire people like that, but they don’t guarantee that they’re going to make a great record or that things are going to sound great at all. What Jim said was “All artists command a song.” That’s where he looks for his view. That’s the horse leading. Fortunately I have played those songs. When I was at the guitar or the piano, I knew where the dynamics were. If you’re searching, if you’re not sure where it’s going to go, you can really lose yourself in a recording session, even with the best of intentions and the best musicians.

MR: True, but on the other hand, you as Louise Goffin had the exposure to the creation of music at a very early age.

LG: I don’t know how I know what I think I know, and it’s not to say I’m right in where I want to go, but where I want to go is old school. A lot of things don’t sound like that these days, so I’m just doing what makes my bells ring.

MR: It’s a culmination of what you’ve admired and seen in yourself and others over the years, and I think in some ways, it’s a nod to what Gerry represents, good songs.

LG: Yeah, I sure wish he could hear it, because he would really get a kick out of it.

MR: What is your advice for new artists?

LG: It’s very important to find what’s different about you, what’s uniquely you, and then amplify that by twenty. People tend to want to mask and cover what they think makes them stand out. They try to sound more like what they hear on the charts, but I think that’s the kiss of death, because really what’s interesting is the most unusual aspects of an artist. Whatever those things are, make them rhyme and repeat them. [laughs] Take your weirdness, make it rhyme, repeat it and put a beat on it. That’s my advice.

MR: Is that how you did it over the years?

LG: I think I’m going to get more relaxed in my writing and recording the less I feel this need to “catch up” with myself. I’ve had so many unrecorded songs for so long that in the last year I’ve just been recording songs that were on my hard drive and I thought, “This is really good, I should just do this.” There’s still plenty more of that, but I think at this point I have a lot of effortless creativity at my disposal that I don’t really run with as much as I could. The record I make when I’m not trying very hard might be interesting.

MR: Everybody loves recording, but I’ve heard a lot of artists lately tell me they love playing live more because they can express a lot more of their creativity that would be too difficult to record.

LG: I love playing live. It’s new for me because I never did a lot of it. I think I was too insecure and just too shy about my ability to do things, especially solo. I wanted someone backing me up all the time. I’ve gotten so much more confident in the last year and a half or so, just because I threw myself into water and made myself swim. I enjoy playing live a lot.

MR: So where’s the apple rolling from this point on?

LG: You have to be ready to believe in yourself whether other people are green-lighting things or not. Too much time goes by waiting for other people to notice. At some point, that gets exhausting. I love the camaraderie, my favorite part of music is the camaraderie, the community, the travel, the interweaving of other ideas. To me that’s where the excitement is. I like working with other artists, I would like to tour with other artists and write songs with them, maybe get back into producing with other artists again.

MR: In some respects, you couldn’t be making music at a better time because of advances in digital technology and marketing through social networking. You have the potential of not waiting for anyone to green-light anything, you can take everything into your own hands. You’re releasing this yourself, right?

LG: Yeah, I was going to release it and distribute it digitally and then on this record I decided to make hard copies on CD just because I like being able to hold something that you can look at. And when you do a live show people really, really love after they’ve heard the live songs to hold something and take it home. When I played the Bluebird in Nashville, because of the TV show “Nashville” there were people from all over the world who wanted to go to the famous Bluebird that they’d seen on TV. There were people from Italy, Australia, it was not just a Nashville audience. Everyone else had said, “You remember this famous song that this guy covered?” but I was going, “Here’s a famous song you never heard.” They were all songs no one had ever heard before that I was playing. It was really nice at the end because a lot of people wanted CDs to take back to wherever they were going. That felt meaningful to have people in the audience want to take it home with them.

MR: Yeah, I miss the physical aspect of music production, but we’re here now.

LG: Well, we live in a disposable culture. You’ll never get this far into the interview, for sure. I don’t even know if people read stuff on Facebook, they just “like” it. I wonder if eighty out of a hundred people have read the thing, or even opened it, when they click the “like” button. Do you know?

MR: I don’t know what the percentage is, but I know that a lot of people are winging it.

LG: It’s digital and disposable. You put a song out, another song out, a video out… I read this great quote, “In this age, you don’t want to be a genius, you want to be a ‘seenius.'” It’s all about being seen. If there’s one thing you do that’s amazing, it’ll be yesterday’s news yesterday. People just go to the next, the next, the next, the next and they consume and absorb and move on from things so fast that it almost makes sense to practically put out singles. I don’t know if people take time anymore. A lot of it is about how the younger generation is quicker with technology. I’ve always felt that you have to spend a little time to find out more about something that you’re going to love. That’s the key. There’s lots of things out there that you’re going to love, but how do we find out about it? That artist has to work really, really, really hard. I’ve been hitting it hard in this last year. I’m not raised that way. I was raised that if you do good work and raise the flag then people will come. That is not true anymore. It’s not a fact. If a tree falls and no one hears it…

MR: Sadly, there are a lot of trees falling that nobody’s hearing.

LG: It’s not who you know, it’s who knows you.

♠This is the abridged version of a longer piece with conversations the writer had with Rumor, Melissa Manchester and Donny Osmond

Transcribed by Galen Hawthorne

Louise Goffin Pays Tribute to Her Father On Her New EP

Louise Goffin Pays Tribute to Her Father On Her New EP

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Inspired by the phrase “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree”, Louise Goffin is herself the fruit of a beautiful musical tree. The daughter of Gerry Goffin and Carole King, Louise comes by her talent honestly, and she’s been faithful to hone her talents on several acclaimed albums over the years. But perhaps none has been as personal as her latest EP, “Apple on Fire”.

After her father’s passing, Louise has channeled the memories and emotions into a new seven-song set now available for fans to pre-order. But not only does it hold the memory of family but friends as well — from a strong guest list to the memory of friend and co-writer, Chris Aaron. She recently took some time out to tell us about this powerful, and personal, project.

Has songwriting always been an emotional passage of sorts, a cathartic way of moving through life?

Definitely. I’d say when I was in my late teens and early twenties, I didn’t trust that part of it as much as I’ve become free enough to now. There were songs I’d written that were put away because I thought they sounded too unfashionable, too unlike what was going on. One of those songs came out of the drawer, a song I wrote with my father and recorded for this EP called “I’m Not Rich But I’m Not Poor”. Even though my part of the song was the melody and chords, I don’t think at that time I could emotionally carry singing the lyric.

Was it clear to you pretty quickly that you would create a musical project inspired by your father?

I started this one off agreeing to record one song and then figured while I had this amazing band I’d also record two songs I’d recently written. And because earlier in the year I had sung a duet of a Goffin/King song at MusiCares with Jakob Dylan, it made sense to invite him to sing on the Goffin/King song “Take A Giant Step” which made it four songs. So in one day, we recorded those first four songs.

The father theme called out. I wanted to do another song that Gerry wrote and that he had originally sung a lead vocal on, because people didn’t know that side of him. He didn’t think much of himself as a singer, but his phrasing as a singer and a lyricist were intertwined with the same intelligence, and a lot of those rhythms and rhymes imprinted on me when I was young. His word choices and vocal delivery inspired and influenced me a great deal.

So the two additional songs I recorded after that first day were what I would call “under-the-radar” songs. “I’m Not Rich But I’m Not Poor” had never been recorded though it may have been pitched to a few artists at the time. It hung around quietly until I recently considered, “What else shall I record on this EP?” That one jumped up saying, “It’s my turn!”

The other one was a gem of a song I’d never heard before. Someone posted a demo of the song on YouTube on June 19th, the day Gerry passed away. Not only was it a find of an undiscovered song, but it had the added rarity that he was singing lead vocal and my mother was harmonizing with him on it.

It took a lot of deciphering to make out some of the words, which no one in all these years had a copy of written down. I recorded it at Red Barn Studios about 15 minutes down the road from Joshua Tree. And then I took the master to Brooklyn to sing it with Joseph Arthur, who eerily sounded a lot like my father when he mirrored the phrasing that inspired me from Gerry’s lead vocal on the demo. I don’t know how that song slipped through the cracks all these years.

You mentioned singing your father’s song “It’s Not The Spotlight” shortly after his passing. Can you take us back to that moment? Was that a healing point at all?

That was a heavy moment. I was scheduled to leave for the airport at 6:00 a.m. on June 19 to do a live interview and performance on KUTX radio in Austin with Jody Denberg the next morning. I also had a house concert the day after that at Polly Parson’s house, daughter of Gram Parsons, for the summer solstice. Tickets had been sold and I was the only performer.

An hour before I was going to wake up too early anyway, I got the call that my father had died during the night. There’s just no way to process that information in any way that makes sense, and that morning it never occurred to me to cancel my trip, although I did continue to reschedule and miss flights throughout the day.

I finally took the red-eye out, bringing one of my children with me. We got in so late, we chose to sleep at my friend and booking agent’s house, since it was closer to the radio station where I had to be in the morning. That next day after the radio interview, I sat at her piano and learned “It’s Not The Spotlight”. It felt like the piano was calling me to learn a song of his to play at the house concert the next day, and somehow that song was one I felt him come through strongest in at that moment. Learning that song was the start of this whole thing.

I hadn’t heard the song in years, but I always loved his vocal on it. The chords were so familiar even though I’d never played it…. well, it’s in the key of C, a familiar key with few black keys, y’know. Anyway I played it in the set, and people loved it, and many recognized it.

When I was back in LA, I saw Barry Goldberg, who wrote the song with Gerry, and I told him I had just played his song “Its Not The Spotlight” live. His response was, “We should cut it.”

Can you tell us about the meaning behind “Apple on Fire”?

For years I’ve been hearing the phrase “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” And the choice of the word fire is in reference to passing the torch, the creative fire, so to speak, which for me is an existential need to create in order to feel meaning in this world. And the the drive and purpose that comes with honoring that need.

The guest list on this is incredible. How’d you bring these names all together?

If you do anything long enough, hopefully you meet everyone at some time or other and keep their phone number.

I’m half joking, but it’s not just that I had relationships over the years, it was also that there was an immense amount of synchronicity, generosity and goodwill associated with this project. I had met Jackson Browne’s assistant at a David Lindley show with my friend Wally Ingram, who plays on the EP, and I said to her, “If you give me your number I promise I will never call it unless it’s really important.” And I meant it. I knew that someone who was an assistant to Jackson probably didn’t give her number out easily.

And so I honored that when I wanted to call her to figure out where I could drop off a copy of my record “Songs From The Mine” for Jackson. But the one number there was no promise not to call was the recording studio where I thought I could leave a message. When I called it, she picked up the phone. I said, “I was trying not to call you!”

When I dropped off my CD, I asked her if there was any day that the studio was not being used and told her about the project. While I was waiting to hear back, I called Chris Aaron in Wisconsin, who I’d co-written “Higher Than Low” with, along with James Hall, the same trio as on the song “We Belong Together”. I said, “I’m going to record our song. I’m waiting to hear whether Jackson’s studio is available”. He said, “I’m sitting next to Jackson. We just played a show together in Madison.” An email came the next day offering a day to record.

Tragically, three months later, Chris Aaron left us, suffering what we think was a heart attack. It was a great loss to so many of us who knew him. So the record has even more meaning with the song on it that we had written just months earlier.

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Louise Goffin

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Be a part of making my EP #Appleonfire Inspired by the musical influence my father Gerry Goffin has had on me #LOVE

Pop Culture Classics

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LOUISE GOFFIN: MINING HER OWN SONG GEMS
By Paul Freeman [August 2014 Interview]

You won’t have to do much digging to find the gems on Louise Goffin’s new album, “Songs From The Mine.” From the first track through the last, you’ll find one jewel after another.

Goffin has been honing her craft for most of her life. She’s the daughter of legendary songwriters Gerry Goffin and Carole King. But Louise Goffin displays a talent all her own.

She was 14, when she and her sister Sherry contributed vocals to their mother’s 1974 “Wrap Around Joy” album. The following year, they sang on mom’s children’s classic, “Really Rosie,” King’s collaboration with Maurice Sendak. 

At 17, Ms. Goffin opened for Jackson Browne at the Troubadour. She was still a teen when she released her first solo album, 1979’s underrated “Kid Blue.” 

Her “Uptown Boys” song was featured on the all-star “Fast Times at Ridgemont High” soundtrack. 

While living in England, Goffin recorded two albums for Warner Bros., an eponymous LP and “This Is The Place,” which includes the gorgeous “Bridge of Sighs.” 2002’s “Sometimes A Circle” and 2008’s “Bad Little Animals” deserved far more attention than they received.

The gifted pianist can be seen playing banjo in Bryan Ferry’s “I Put A Spell On You” video and she played guitar on tour with Tears For Fears.

Goffin, who can been heard singing the theme song, “Where You Lead,” with her mother, for “The Gilmore Girls” series,” produced 2011’s Grammy-nominated “A Holiday Carole,” King’s first studio album in more than a decade. It included Christmas classics, three Louise Goffin originals and a jazzy version of a Chanukah prayer.

Drawing on numerous styles, “Songs From The Mine” shows that Goffin is definitely in her prime. Her brand of pop is infused with rock and folk, even a bit of country. The album brims with diverse, delicious treasures such as “Everybody But You,” “Get With The World,” “Deep Dark Night of The Soul,” “Here Where You Are Loved,,” “Some of Them Will Fool You,” “Main Street Parade,” “Sword in Your Heart” and “Good Life.” Her vocals are expressive and irresistible. The songs are elegantly crafted, eloquent and deeply resonant.

POP CULTURE CLASSICS:
You’ve described the making of this album as a journey. What did you mean by that?

LOUISE GOFFIN:
The thing is, for years, I’ve been raising kids. I never stopped writing. But music was more on my hard drive and more in my studio. If someone said to me, “Oh, play us a song,” I wouldn’t really know how to play any of my songs, because I had become so dependent on the arrangements, the demo of something, or attached to a recorded version of a song. 

And I wanted to change that at one point. And it was scary to do it, but I did start it off by wanting to do a residency at Hotel Cafe here. The first show I did was in November of 2012. And they had said, “Well, you can do one show and we’ll see how it goes.” So it went well. People came. It’s very hard to get people to come to shows, in Los Angeles, particularly. So they asked me to do another show in January. Then I realized, “Okay, I can’t afford to play with this great band. They’re in L.A. and they’re friends. They’re showing up and I’m underpaying them. But if I really want to play a lot and travel, I need to be able to really do it with as few people on stage as possible.

I had met Billy Harvey from that show. I was looking for a guitar player/singer-songwriter, who could be in the band and who I could also highlight with their own songs. And that’s what I had originally wanted to do – I wanted to play every month and have a new person join me and highlight their work, as well. But Billy was so good. And we had such great chemistry, that after two shows, we talked about doing a duo and do his songs, my songs, we could write songs. And that was what happened. 

And he and I were both so busy, in between the time that he and I were writing and doing any shows, I was also continuing to travel and play shows of my own and write. So, at some point, the whole thing about being afraid to play live just went away. At the end of the year, I’d played, I guess, 18 shows. That was really helpful. And I just set myself a goal. I wanted to be able to do an entire show without any other band member, because you have to, in this day and age. You have to be able to travel light as need be – or you end up losing money every time you play. 

So it really was an assignment for me. And it started out as just – get out of my comfort zone, jump into risk, be scared and do it anyway [laughs]. And then someone said to me, they gave me the analogy of, when you’re a fish, you don’t know the water you’re swimming in, because you’re always in the water. And this friend, who’s really talented at what he does, what he was really saying was, you can easily take for granted what your strengths are, if you’re surrounded by it all the time. If you go into other situations, you realize people don’t have those strengths necessarily. You project on the world and you imagine that, “Oh, everyone can do this, because it comes naturally to me.” But it doesn’t come naturally to everyone. And it’s good to get a perspective on that and know what your strengths are. 

Just traveling around made me realize, oh, I’ve been swimming in songs for a long time and I don’t have people around saying, “That’s a great tune. You should cut that. I love that song.” I was surrounded by people going, “Mom! Can you get me… “ Wanting these things from me. There wasn’t a lot of applause. It was more, “What have you done for me lately?” [Laughs[ That was more the message I was receiving. Or “Can I have $20?” Whatever it was. So I didn’t really have an idea. 

I’ve been writing songs for a long time and I’m not really chasing the same thing that a lot of professional songwriters are, in that, for me to be an artist in the way that I’m doing it now, independently, you don’t have a record company and a manager and a this and a that, calling you up, organizing everything. I do all of it myself. Although I do have a booking agent, who’s great. And I do have Monica [publicist Monica Hopman]. I have a few people, actually more than a few, people who are just really supportive. And I’m so grateful that they’re there, because what I do, it’s full time, around the clock. Just the pledge campaign, I mean, the record’s been done since the middle of March. It just came out in the middle of July, a few weeks ago. And I’m still fulfilling the exclusives – what people paid for to help make the record [laughs]. 

The ones that are really time-consuming – I will make an original video for a cover song of your choice. Well, that should cost at least $1,000, for the amount of time that it takes – recording the song, filming something that looks good, cutting it together. It takes so much time. 

And everything takes a lot of time – artwork, manufacturing, traveling, putting the band together for a different lineup and a different show. Sometimes I can’t afford to take people who live near me. So like if I was to go to Austin, for example, or New York, I would be teaching songs to a whole new group of people. So it’s exciting and it’s fun. But it’s life-changing to advocate for your own art. It’s a full-time commitment.

PCC:
It may be a lot of work, but did you end up enjoying the crowd-funding, because it freed you from answering to a label?


Photo by Ruel Lee Photography

GOFFIN:
Oh, I loved it. It’s incomparable. The only thing I’m thinking of is making it good, where, before, you have your moment of artwork, you have your moment in time, when you get to make a decision and if one link in that chain, when other people are paying for stuff, is weak, that’s it. You’ve had your photo session. You pick from the results of that particular photographer. I was frustrated so often with that way of doing things. The first time I wasn’t frustrated was when I did a record for DreamWorks, because they had an amazing team. And I loved the record [2002’s luminous “Sometimes A Circle”]. And I really pushed for things. I said, “Oh, can we go that extra mile on the video?” Or whatever it was. 

But you have the moment with the record company and, if things don’t happen within two months, goodbye to your record. It’s over. If you make your own record, and you really put a piece of yourself into every aspect of it, every single element, the project has more vitality to it and your fans feel more connected to you and I feel more connected to my fans, to the point where, they’re writing, saying, “You should play in this part of the U.S. “ – where I’d never thought of – “and there are some great venues.” People were really jumping in with ideas and support and wanting to be a part of it, which really is what the whole pledge, crowd-funding thing does. It’s not a record company, it’s your fans helping you make the record. So I love the whole process. It’s very enlivening. It is a lot of work. And it does not pay well [laughs]. You just barely have enough money to make ends meet. And sometimes you’re running at a deficit and borrowing from yourself to make things happen. 

But it’s all in the service of having a catalogue, because, the thing is, now when I make a record, I was still be promoting that record a year from now. And when I make another record and put it out, I will still be playing songs from this record. Or previous records. It’s not something where you have a little two-month window with a record company and then, when it doesn’t go to the top of the charts in that amount of time, they’ve moved on and there’s no support for it. And you wonder where three years of your life went. That was the old model for me, as an artist. 

PCC:
You made a number of great records that didn’t get the attention they deserved. Do you take a philosophical perspective now, that what’s most important is simply eloquently expressing yourself musically, not the level of acceptance you reach with any song or album?

GOFFIN:
Honestly, there’s not time to think of every aspect. I have a friend who’s a photographer and she lived in the middle of nowhere. And all she did for seven or eight years was just take photos. She didn’t do anything with them. And then she moved to the city and all she did for five years was take those photos and put them up in galleries and do interviews and promote her work. It really comes down to, yes, definitely, I want people to hear the work. Sometimes I wish I could just magically have more man/human power to help get the word out. Sometimes I don’t even have time to make the call to someone who might know how to get something in a film or TV show. To me, that’s a whole other gig – going out to meetings and saying, “Hey, I’ve got this thing I’m promoting.” That’s a full-time job. It’s like actors who go out and audition. They have a full-time job, auditioning… until they get a job. And then their job is like a vacation from their auditioning job [laughs].

But I don’t have time to get on the phone and go, “Hey, I’m going to go down to Warner Brothers and meet…“ You know? I don’t have that time. I honestly don’t. If I shifted my focus into that, I would not be making records. I would not be writing songs. I’ve done the math. There aren’t enough hours in the day. So right now, I feel excited that, with crowd-funding, and just having confidence in my skills and having the resources, in terms of the musicians and studios and my own home set-up, which is limited, but highly effective for songwriting and vocals, I’m just excited about making the records. And the records will be there. In three years, the records will still be there. And I will still be able to promote them, because I’ll own them. I’ll be able to say, “Hey, put this in a movie.”

A good song is a good song. And the right version of it is key. And that’s what’s exciting me now, because I used to lose sleep over it – “Oh, this isn’t right. The key isn’t right. The arrangement isn’t right. The sound isn’t right.” All these elements. So I feel like things are falling into focus, in that regard. And the rest, I just have to have faith that it’ll find its home.

PCC:
Did you always have that viewpoint of, “a good song is a good song”? Was there a time, early on, where you were trying to fit in with the marketplace – or was that more external pressure, rather than internal?

GOFFIN:
I never was trying to fit in with the marketplace. I feel like that’s one of my blind spots. Honestly, I feel that I never knew how to make a song for someone else. Every time I put my energy into – “I’m going to write a song and pitch it here and pitch it there,” I’d always just end up having these great demos that no one would record, because I guess they were full of my character or personality. It made me hone my skills, but I wasn’t necessarily writing about what I would personally want to say. So some of it feels like wasted time.

A lot of songwriters are aware of that equation, where you write a certain number of songs a year and, maybe, if you’re lucky, three of them will be cut. I’ve never been able to function that way… happily. I’ve tried. I have, a few times in my life, sat down and had that parental talk with myself and said, “People actually do this to make a living, you know.” And I’ve always done it for this personal, somewhat spiritual – it’s almost like my church. I do it because it’s good for me to dig through my feelings and emotions about something or write a story. It is transformative, when a song puts something together that you’ve experienced in a way that’s smarter than you are, in your life. And that happens a lot, where I’ll write a song that will be a precursor. 

It’s almost like, psychically, I’ll know something that’s going to happen, that didn’t happen yet. And the song is giving me advice on how to handle something. My songwriting is just smarter than I am. That’s just been the case for me. So I do it for those reasons. It’s kind of like the church – people go on Sundays and they hear the gospel. For me, songwriting is the gospel. Also, what I realize is, it enhances my life, it enhances the lives of people around me. And that grown-up talk I’ve had with myself several times [laughs], saying, “You know, people actually do a job to make a living, not just for enhancement,” it’s almost like being a hostess, where, “I just do parties, because they’re fun for people.” Okay. You really enhance people’s lives… and how is that helping you? So sometimes I’ve sat down and really asked myself, “Well, how are you going to pay for things, doing this?,” because it has not proven itself to be a way to pay the rent… or even a grocery bill. But it is something that’s somewhat accumulatively, a brand, eventually, if you stick to something that’s original. Then other people can’t do it. There is no competition for what you uniquely do. And that’s really the appeal, is just staying out of the world of “cut my song instead of theirs.” [Laughs]. 

You have to be wired in a certain way. That’s a real business brain. And I think my parents were more geared that way. In spite of the fact that my mother was an artist, she was a songwriter first and an artist second. And her style of performance was very much like a songwriter. She wasn’t doing the Celine Dion vocal performance. She was doing the Carole King vocal performance, which was, “I’ve got an amazing song” performance. And that’s a great way to go. The songs live on beyond the artist’s career. And that’s a smart thing to do. But you have to be wired in such a way that you’re willing to go out and hustle and sell your songs to people. 

PCC:
But are you actually thinking about that, when you’re writing – I hope this is going to connect with people and live on? Or is it just a matter of getting out whatever is inside you?

GOFFIN:
Oh, I never think that, ever. The world is too vast and diverse to have any kind of knowledge of what people will like. I totally write what I like. I think writing is very much about personal taste. It’s like – I don’t like that line. I like that line. I don’t like keyboards that sound like that. I like Wurlitzer that sounds like this. 

PCC:
So do you tend to be your own worst critic, very demanding of yourself, a perfectionist?

GOFFIN:
I used to be. Honestly, I used to be. Now I like more of what comes out of me. And I trust it more. So I’m not beating myself up and going, “It’s not perfect.” And sometimes I want to change a line, because I over-analyze it. I’ll go, “Grammatically, this is not right,” and over-think it. And lately, I’ll leave the line and just say, “It works. I’m not sure why, but it works.” It’s a total personal thing. 

My grandmother, my mother’s mother, used to say that the more specific and detailed you make something, the more universal it is, the more it’s really about your experience, the bigger the appeal. When you start living in vagaries, thinking it will have a larger appeal, it actually doesn’t. It just comes off as mediocre. I think detail and specificity and your own deepest truth is what has the biggest appeal to people. 

[One of her sons dashes by]

PCC:
What are the ages of the kids now?


Photo by Ruel Lee Photography

GOFFIN:
I have one who, unbelievably, is turning 15. And one who is 11, going to be 12, two boys.

PCC:
Did you try to make sure they had a lot of music around them?

GOFFIN:
Oh, it’s there, genetically. They don’t require much teaching. Obviously, I’m a musician and I think one of the best investments I made was a piano I bought myself… I say I bought myself [laughs], I’ve been making payments, for years, on a piano, a nice one. And that was a really great investment in them, as it turns out. I remember thinking that at the time. The younger one was just standing up, playing the piano. And he just took to it incredibly. And I’m a multi-instrumentalist, so lately, I’ve been acquiring like a mandolin and a banjo. We have lots of guitars around. Bass. They have a drum set. And that’s the house. 

My older son, every time I come home, has got my amp, my Moog pedal, my guitar [laughs], maybe my ukulele, in his room. And he’s learning to play other instruments. And he does tracks. He does these tracks already, on his computer, that sound like records. He sits there on his bed, with his headphones, and puts together these tracks that sound like records. Like, all he needs is the singer and he’s ready to go. So that’s one kid. And the other kid writes incredible melodies. And lyrics with no fat on them whatsoever. Like every line is really great. So I don’t do anything [laughs]. I just facilitate and try to get them to be good people and go to bed at a decent hour and think that homework is important.

PCC:
Was it like that for you, always interested in music and curious about instruments? Or were you nudged towards piano at an early age?

GOFFIN:
Not at all. I had children way older. My mother was a teenager, when I was born. Pretty much, it was like, “Put her over here with a couple of Cheerios, let’s go write a song.” Whatever would keep me occupied long enough for my very ambitious parents to do what they needed to do is what would happen. I brought my kids up in a whole other time with a whole other set of what one does as a parent. And I’d already had record deals, I’d already traveled the world, when I had kids. So I was this child-centered parent. I went to school to the art room with them. I performed in the parents’ band at elementary school [laughs]. I helped make costumes for Halloween. 

I just completely embraced motherhood, like a whole new job description. I was living with a producer and songwriter [her then husband Greg Wells, who has worked with Katy Perry, Adele and Mika]. I had a little studio in the back of my house, a little closet. So I would go off, I’d have a babysitter and I’d go in it for four to six hours and work on something. But all you have to do is look at the gaps of time between the records I’ve put out and it will make sense. I’d be making a record forever and mostly raising them. My parents were not like that at all. My life was very separate from theirs. And they were very busy. And pretty much, it was about my friends. I don’t remember a lot of parenting [laughs]. 

Modeling was what I got, more than parenting. It was more like, “Oh, don’t eat junk food.” My Mom doesn’t buy junk food. She eats well. So I took that on. She exercises. She’s fit, healthy. She doesn’t smoke cigarettes. Like I got all the good modeling – Be respectful. Don’t talk badly about people. Don’t talk disrespectfully to people. Those were the most important things. And ultimately, those are the most important things. So it all works out.

PCC:
When you observed them working on a song, did it seem like painstaking work? Or did you see joy in it, as well? 

GOFFIN:
Oh, yeah! Here’s the thing – my mother was visiting recently. I learned a song of hers recently. One of my crowd-funders, the cover song they wanted me to do was one of her early songs that I didn’t know very well. I didn’t even know that they had written it. I think the song pre-dated my birth. I learned this song of hers… and I was cursing her the entire time, like, “This is like skiing the Swiss Alps!” It never stopped – the chord changes, the key changes, augmentation – it never stopped. So the vocal came out amazing on this. And the chords, somehow I got through. It sounds like I knew what I was doing, by the end, by punching it in. 

She came over and I played her this thing. And she said, “That’s not the way the chords go! They go like this.” And she plays me these other chords. And I actually think the ones I have are good, because hers are very of the time – late 50s, early 60s. I felt like it didn’t need to be that way. So I was fine. And then she was going, “And then it does this. And check this out!” And she was showing me these different songs. “And then it goes to the 4th and then it goes to the 6th and then it goes to the augmentation.” And I’m lost. I’m completely lost. I just don’t operate that way. 

And she always says to me that I’m more sophisticated than she is, in my writing. And I think what she’s saying is that I end up coming up with things intuitively, that she would never come up with, that are, to her, out of the range of how she would think. But honestly, I could no tell you what those chords are. I can hear it. And I find the notes. And I have to write them down, so I don’t forget them. And I don’t have that theory training, that she has. I have a very basic training. It’s kind of hard to get through life as a musician and not know what what a one and a four and a five is. Or a minor-6th or a minor-2nd, all those. But when it comes to writing charts, for example, I write very basic charts for my musicians. And sometimes they’re going, “Does the bar change there? Or does it change there?” “Oh, yeah, I put the line in the wrong place. The bar changes there.” They’re more like class notes than they are charts. So she’s very old school. And didn’t get there. Started there. Started at 17 and 18 already having this sophisticated arrangement sense

When I produced her in 2010 – it came out at the end of 2011 – we were in a session and we had Dean Parks, who’s an amazing guitar player. And everyone’s in different isolation rooms and I’m in the control room. And she’s singing. And she goes, “Dean, on bar 53, there is a chord you’re playing. Are you playing the 7th in that chord, when you get to bar 53? I hear a note in your chord that has a 7th in it. Yeah, take that out.” [Laughs] Everyone’s going, “How could she hear that?!” It’s another class. 

I don’t know how I got off on this – oh, you asked me whether she pushed me, the answer is absolutely not. Not in the least. All I knew was, there was a piano around. I asked for piano lessons. I quit piano lessons the moment I knew enough chords to write songs. Songwriting’s always way more interesting to me than learning how to play classical pieces. Although, now I really like being able to play them, when I can. 

So it was really always songwriting, more than musicianship. And then I guess I just became a better musician from playing, from enjoying music, enjoying guitar. Some musicians are really great musicians and they go through decades of never writing. Not writing tunes. They finally get it, that writing is the thing, rather than needing someone to hire you. That was the main message I got from my parents, in terms of my occupation, which is that songwriting was where the action was. You had songs, then you had a band, then you went on the road, then you made records. People in the business would like say, “Song is king,” meaning song rules every other level of everything. And the thing is, is you have someone, a musician who is iconic, because of who they are, their careers end, when they don’t do it anymore. If you write songs, songs go on beyond your life span. People can remember songs that Hoagy Carmichael wrote. Songs live on. 

PCC:
And what was the song of your mom’s that you were doing for the video? 

GOFFIN:
Oh, “It MIght As Well Rain Until September [Sings] “What can I write? What can I say?” I mean, listen to the middle eight on that song [laughs, then sings again] “My friends look forward to their picnics on the beach. Everybody loves the summertime…” And then it’s a new key [sings] “But you know darling while your arms are out of reach, summer isn’t any friend of mine.” It just races along.

And then I had to learn one of her songs last year. She played the White House. I knew I wasn’t in that show, but I got this invitation from someone in that whole production, saying, “We want you to play one of your mother’s songs at the Library of Congress.” I didn’t know what they meant. I thought, the Library of Congress, it would be a library with politicians sitting down at tables and it would be like a kind of intimate little show. But it was actually a theatre and there were all these other people on it, like Shelby Lynne and Siedah Garrett – incredibly talented people. Anyway, my first thought was, “My mother’s songs are so sad,” thinking “Tapestry” – “So Far Away,” “It’s Too Late, Baby.” I’m thinking, “I am not going to play one of her sad songs from my childhood [laughs], about her breaking up with my Dad – I do not want to play one of those songs.” 

So I was hard-pressed to find one of her really upbeat songs. So I said, “Oh, yeah! [Sings] ‘You’ve got to get up every morning… With a smile on your face.’ That’s a positive song. I’ll do that.” And I thought it was really simple. It sounds like it’s oom-pah, oom-pah. Very simple. Then I sat down to learn it. And it’s like a George Gershwin song. It’s ridiculous how many hoops it jumps through. And then it has a key change in the middle of it. And then it plays all these crazy inversions and things a half tone higher. 

So absolutely, she’s one of a kind. She’s just one of a kind. And we share music and we do music in a very different way. But we do both manage to translate it to musicians and be able to perform it. And nowadays, because we have ProTools and recording and we have an iPhone, you get an idea, you put it on your iPhone and then you hold it up and play it for someone and go, “Like this!” [Laughs]. But you used to have to be able to tell them in writing – here’s how it goes… or be able to keep playing it over and over yourself.

PCC:

It is remarkable how even the early Goffin & King songs, though they flow so naturally, are so deceptively complex.

GOFFIN:
Well, they are. Since my father passed away I have been listening, first of all, this is crazy, but, because of him passing away, I have started my next record already. I mean, I put this one out a couple of weeks ago. I was not thinking I would start my next record. But a few days after he died, I had a house concert in Austin, Texas. And I really felt compelled to play this one song of his, that he had recorded in 1973, that I loved, that he sang the lead vocal on. 

And he never thought of himself as a singer. He always wanted to play an instrument and he was just way more cerebral and didn’t have the control over his hands to really be an instrumentalist. But he’d hear melodies. And he loved – loved, I say – he was just completely knocked over by Bob Dylan. He thought Bob Dylan was the greatest writer, wanted to be like Bob Dylan. Of course, Bob Dylan has said really sweet things about my Dad. So he thought, in 1973, “If Bob Dylan can sing, I can sing [laughs]. Bob Dylan’s not really a singer and he has a whole career. So if he can sing, I can sing.” So he went to Muscle Shoals and he recorded a double record, a fantastic record, with one of the best organ, B-3 keyboard players, I mean, blues – just one of the greats – Barry Goldberg.

He and Barry wrote a double record. And my Dad, all he was thinking about, that particular year, was Nixon and politics and hating everything happening in Washington. And so he wanted to write this political record. And Barry said, “Well, Gerry, I’ll write the political songs, but we’ve got to make a deal.” I don’t know exactly what the deal was. It was something like for every five political songs I write, you’ve got to write me one commercial one. So they were writing these things about honorable peace – “What kind of logic, what kind of brain, would choose to kill millions and think it was sane?” I mean, this was not what people were expecting from my Dad. But he was compelled to say it. And Barry would say, “Okay, give me a commercial lyric.” And he, in 10 minutes, would write, “I’ve Just Got To Use My Imagination,” which Gladys Knight & The Pips recorded. And he’d say to Barry, “Here – are you happy?” So he wrote a couple of commercial songs on that record. And one of them was a song I love, called, “It’s Not The Spotlight.” And I love his vocal on it. I particularly love his vocal. And Rod Stewart cut it and changed some of the lines. I think he had a hit with it. Anyway, I always loved this song. And it’s quite simple. And so, for this house concert, I sat down at the piano and worked up the chords and I played it. 

And at the memorial, Barry was there, one of my Dad’s oldest friends. I said, “Yeah, I played the song you guys wrote.” He said, “We should cut it!” I said, “Really?” He said, “Yeah, we should go in and record it.” And I was like, “Okay.” So I went to Barry’s and I had just written some really good songs in Wisconsin. And I played him those songs. And he said, “Those are great. Those are killer. Those are keepers. We have to cut those, too.” And then I said, “Oh, you know, Jakob Dylan and I just, for my mother’s MusiCares, sang one of parents’ songs, as a duet [Goin’ Back”] So I called Jakob and he said he had just recorded the song. So he didn’t want to do that one on another project. So I found another song I loved, that my parents wrote and cut that one, too. So several days ago, I was in the studio, recording four songs that will be on whatever the next record will be. So I was suddenly thrown into doing that. But I am still promoting this one and I have a whole tour booked into April of next year. So I guess that’s the lifestyle – you just keep writing, recording, performing… and taking care of children.

PCC:
Did you have to go through that period of standing up and saying, “I’m my own artist” and not worrying about the shadow of the two legends?

GOFFIN
That’s the question that never goes away. But I never in my life thought, “Wow, there’s a really big shadow. Hmmm, let me think about this.” Never. I never thought that. I just knew I wanted to do music. I thought, “Oh, wow, this is kind of a pain that my parents are…” I remember when I moved to England, being very clear – I went there when I was 24, almost 25, and I was in England for 10 years – and I remember when I got there, thinking, “I have to be really good at lyrics and melodies.” And that’s how your question translated into my inner thought of the time. That was all. Never, never, like, “Maybe I shouldn’t do this.” Because that’s a spectator question. That’s somebody writing about something from the stands, looking from afar, looking at a bigger picture. But for me, personally, I just knew I was going to do music. There was no question. It wasn’t like, “Should I? Shouldn’t I?” I was doing music. And I just thought, “Hmm, I don’t really get off easy at all. I have to really be great at lyrics and melody.” 

And I was already really good at music. I had really good piano-playing chops, right from like eight years old. And I didn’t realize it. But I did eventually go, “Oh, I really know how to play the piano!” But I didn’t necessarily have the confidence in my singing. And I didn’t have the depth in my lyric-writing. I was too young. I didn’t have things happen to me. And at 24, 25, I was thinking, “Oh, shit! I have to really get good at the whole enchilada.” 

In fact, the band I had in the studio the other day was, I would say, a dream band, total dream band. It was Jim Keltner on drums, Bob Glaub on bass, and Val McCallum on guitar, who’s great. I gave Jim, who I hadn’t played with in decades, I might have even been a teenager the last time I played with him, my CD. He looked at my CD, “Songs From The Mine,” he opens it up, he goes, “Wow! You’ve grown up real well, haven’t you!? Look at this!” And then Bob says, “You’ve got to check this out. There’s great songs.” Jim says, “Well, you better have great songs. You’re Louise Goffin, aren’t you?” [Laughs] And I didn’t get what he meant. I didn’t get it until after the session, I thought, “Oh, I see what he meant.” It was exactly what I was saying to myself, when I was 24 – “Oh, yeah. I have to be really good.” But that’s how it manifested itself. It wasn’t, “Should I be an accountant? Should I be a marine biologist? Or should I be a songwriter.” It was really, “I’m a songwriter. I’m going to be writing, recording, performing. This is my chosen path in life. And shit – I have to get to get really good at it!” [Laughs] It was more like that. 

PCC:
Having gone back and done some of your dad’s songs recently, what does impress you most about his work as a lyricist?

GOFFIN:
He’s really in his lyrics. Every one of his lyrics, he’s really in them. It’s often about getting the girl. It’s often about getting the person to see how their goals are superficial and how there are deeper, better goals. There’s a philosophical aspect. There’s teaching in his lyrics. Not only are they really expertly written – and when I say “expertly,” meaning they’re simple. So you don’t see the expertise in it. You don’t have to crawl over complications to understand what’s being said. 

Even in “Might As Well Rain Until September” – “My friends look forward to their picnics at the beach. Yes, everybody loves the summertime. But you know darling, while your arms are out of reach, the summer isn’t any friend of mine.” It’s really so simple. And then in that song, “I don’t need sunny skies for things I like to do, ‘cause I stay home the whole day long and think of you.” 

And I was actually saying to my Mom, the writing in it is so of its time, I actually can picture Lucille Ball saying some of these phrases, like “For all the fun I’d have while you’re so far away…” I can picture I Love Lucy saying that, like, “Oh, Ricky, for all the fun I’d have, while you’re so far away, it might as well rain until September.” [Laughs] I love that it speaks the way people speak. 

But he was deep. And he was troubled. That’s in his songs, too. And he had this thing of, when he’d write a song, it was like a little boy, with this honesty and authenticity, reaching out, saying, “Hey, take a moment, slow down.” He really was thoughtful about life. Very, very thoughtful. 

And honestly, my kids, particularly one of my boys, are really into hip-hop. And I completely get how fun it is, with the sounds, the mixing of the sound, the taking something from here and something from there. But what I don’t like is when there is a posturing, where the lyric isn’t really talking about someone’s deep soul. The lyric seems to be more about ego, posturing of, “Yeah, the homies and the bitches…” I mean, to me, in a song, I want to hear a piece of someone’s soul. I want to hear their pain. I want to hear their dreams. I want to hear their losses, their gains. I want to hear it on a deeply personal level. I don’t want to buy into somebody’s ego-posturing. So to me, that’s what my father really could do well – write deeply personal, authentic lyrics.

PCC:

Have you seen the Broadway show [“Beautiful: The Carole King Musical”]?

GOFFIN:
I haven’t yet. I haven’t been in New York. I will be in New York in October, so I will see it this year. And I’m excited to see it.

PCC:
Does it seem surreal – your parents as the subject of a Broadway musical?

GOFFIN:
Well, it’s always seemed surreal to me. I always felt like I didn’t need to see it. I lived it, so why would I need to see a song-and-dance routine about it? But what’s meaningful is that it was really important to my father. And he was very involved in it. And it’s meaningful to me that he got to see it. And it was a dream come true for him, because, when he met my mother, I guess he was 20, he wanted to write a Broadway play then. That was what he wanted to do in life. She said, “I want to write songs, rock ‘n’ roll songs.” He was like, “Well, I want to write a Broadway show.” [Laughs] She’s like, “Okay, how about I’ll write music for your Broadway show, if you write lyrics for my rock’n’ roll songs?” That was the deal. And they kind of accidentally were incredibly successful at writing songs. But he wanted to write a Broadway show, from then. 

So it’s very meaningful that the show happened and that he got to to see it before he died. I think it was fairly recently that he was there, in the last two or three months. And I hear that the cast is great and it’s gotten better. You get into the flow and you know what to take out and what to augment. And I’ve heard that they’re really doing an amazing job. What’s really weird for me, people tell me my name is mentioned in it a bunch of times. I’m a baby – “Oh, we need to get Louise.” It’s going to be very surreal to sit in the audience. I’m sure it will be impactful.

PCC:
In terms of the whole evolution of your life in music, when you started out, opening for Jackson Browne at 17, were you already fully confident, knowing that this was going to work for you?

GOFFIN:
Oh, no. The story of that is, Jackson Browne called me. I was already living alone at 17, because my mother moved to Idaho and I was living in this house on stilts, over on Laurel Canyon Boulevard. And Jackson Browne called me and asked me, if I wanted to open for him. And I told him, no. And I hung up the phone and my boyfriend was sitting there at the time, and he said, “Jackson Browne just asked you to open for him and you said no?!” I said, “I’m not ready yet. I don’t know how to play live. I don’t know how to play any of my songs live. I don’t feel ready.” He looked at me and said, “Call him back. Right now.” [Laughs] “Call him back and say yes. You have to call him back!” And I did. 

And I was pretty scared. I remember what the Troubadour looked like, to me, from my point of view then. And I was there in ‘08. And I guess it’s set up differently than it was, a little bit. But yeah, I just got up there. I had done some performing for my high school, I did like assemblies and talents shows. And that would just be like one song. But, at that age, I really had stage fright, when it came to singing. Singing, that was the thing. When I played people a song, on piano I was very confident. But you’d have to come up real close to hear my voice, to hear my sing, because I was so scared of singing. 

And then I made that ‘”Kid Blue” album a year later and Danny Kortchmar, who produced me, had me singing really out, like almost operatic, influenced very much by Linda Ronstadt at the time. And I don’t even recognize my voice so much then. But he really was into rock And he infused my very dainty, singer-songwriter, strummy little songs with heavy drums and rock guitars. And so I had to learn to sing over that. It’s all very imprecise. When I listen to those early records, I honestly feel that I should not have been making records for another for or five years. I was just chomping at the bit so much, to go do it. And had the opportunities. So it was hard to not jump in. But I’m really way happier with where I am now. I feel like I found a home with my singing and my playing, where I’m not trying to ride a galloping horse that is out of control and unmanageable. I actually feel like I’m master of the animal, rather than it being the master of me. 

PCC:
You do sound great on the new album. There are a number of collaborations on there. You’ve written great songs on your own. Does the process of collaborating spark a whole new wave of possibilities?

GOFFIN:
Well, I like collaborating a lot. One of the things that I do, I travel, sometimes I go to Nashville or Wisconsin. Or occasionally, I’ll write here in L.A. I write least frequently in the place I live, L.A.. I get caught up with so many other things here – mothering. L.A.’s also very spread out. And it’s also very much a business town. People are writing to make money here. And I’m not going to be the first person that they’re going to spend their limited time writing with, to make money [laughs]. I’m motivated by, let’s write a great song. And this is a town that’s motivated by, how do we get the new so-and-so cut? Or how do we get in this movie? That’s almost a different job description.

But when I travel around other places, people are writing songs, doing what I’m doing. They’re playing shows, making records, but a lot of the people I write with, they have regular jobs. They do music in this way that is good for their soul. And they need to do a different job to pay the rent.

So the collaborating comes more from the fact that, if it’s just me writing, I may not write the song. I might get caught up in other things. But if it’s all arranged that I’m coming to your house, we’re writing a song today. That’s why there’s more collaborations than not. Sometimes I’m tempted to say, “Oh, I’m going to write a song alone, just to prove to myself that I can.” But I don’t really feel that there’s anything to prove there. A great song is a great song. Sometimes, a great song, I feel like I have written 20 percent of it. Other times I feel like I’ve written 80 percent of it. It doesn’t matter, because the song would not be there, if you hadn’t all been in the room that day. It could be one thing somebody said – and then they never said another thing – that started the song. It really does happen that way. So it’s just whatever it is, wherever it ends up. It’s just about having an idea that’s worthy. 

PCC:
When you’re not working with someone else, do you tend to wait for the muse? Or do you discipline yourself, saying, “It’s time for me to sit down and write something”?

GOFFIN:
I’m not very disciplined about doing that. But I’ll tell you what I do do. I’m not very disciplined about starting songs, but I’m very persistent and tenacious about finishing them. So, while I might not go away with my dog and guitar and say, “I have to write a song this weekend” – although maybe I will do that now that I’ve started another record and need another eight songs [laughs]. I probably will do that more. 

What I will do – oftentimes, I’ll write with people who I’ll never see again. And we’ll have three-quarters of a song on an iPhone. And know that that person is not going to finish that song with me. And if I really think it’s good or going somewhere, I’ll finish it – by myself. I’ll take it the extra mileage it needs to go, to finish it. 

It’s kind of like children – once I give birth to them, I’m thinking, “Oh, I do actually have to teach them something” [laughs]. “And get them pants that fit.” So every time a song is started that I think is a good idea, it’s really hard for me to ignore it. So I will say, I do have a very good work ethic. And I do finish what I start.

PCC:
So do you try to find a balance between the intuitive and intellectualizing about the writing? Or does one weigh heavier for you?

GOFFIN:
It’s all intuitive. The only thing that is analytical is when you get to the very end. Often I don’t even know what a song’s about, while I’m doing the entire writing of the song. And then, at the end, I go, “Oh, I know what this is about. Oh, what would be really cool is if that word were…” fill in the blank, because that ties up the meaning. It’s really all intuitive. 

But the thing is, I think the analysis came a long, long time ago. It’s already the result of the analysis. It’s from listening to so much music over the years… and analyzing that music for years and years and years. So now I’m not analyzing it anymore. It’s just like driving car. You don’t go, “I’m gong to put the left signal on now. I’m going to pull out. I’m going to make a right turn coming up.” That’s analyzing driving. Once you know how to drive, you’re not thinking of any of that. But at one point, you did have to learn how to put all that together.

PCC:
Looking back now, is there one song on the new album that most reflects where you’re at, in terms of mindset and emotional space?

GOFFIN:
Well, all a little bit. There are moments and moods. And moments and moods change. I think the lyric to “Good Life” is very much a place where I would like to be. “We Belong Together,” it could be interpreted as a love song, but it could really be a song about community and connecting with people. You don’t have to do it alone. And when you talk about love, you could be talking about your friends, too. Some of the sadder songs… 

There’s a few songs. Right now, I’m really enjoying “Some Of Them Will Fool You.” And that was a song that was not finished, that I did really want to finish. We just didn’t have a title. And the whole idea of the song was there. And I changed some lines in the chorus. But we kept thinking the song was about liars. We kept trying to think of something with like liars. And it just never sung well. It just never sounded right. It always sounded too judgmental. And coming up with that title and being able to hang that song around it really brought that together in a way that I love. 

But they’re all fun moments. ”Main Street Parade” is probably the oldest song on the record. I enjoy that. And the sentiments of that, I still feel. Like “I don’t need a big production. All I want is your sweet loving.” That’s how I feel in life. I don’t want to go to Disneyland [laughs]. I just want to sit on a beach. It’s much simpler.

PCC:
“Deep Dark Night of the Soul” is another of the really cool songs. It seems like, even with that one, there’s a sense of the other end of the tunnel in sight, coming through the pain.

GOFFIN:
Yeah. What I like about that song is, okay, anybody knows the misery of the metaphor of building a sand castle too close to the shore. That’s a little childlike image there. But in life, when you do that, the recovery time is not fast [laughs]. You know? And investing in things that are very temporary, which the Buddhists would say is pretty much everything, investing any kind of faith in longevity, in things remaining the same, is a fool’s game. So, in the end, “everything works out” is a nice message. And I love humor. And that song, to me, takes a topic and has humor with it. I mean, the French-speaking and the trombones and all that.

PCC:
”Watching The Sky Turn Blue” is another fun track. Did you have any trepidation about asking Alice Cooper and Johnny Depp to add backing vocals and handclaps?

GOFFIN:
I didn’t have any time to have trepidation. I definitely had like 10 minutes of trepidation. But the opportunity to have them sing on it presented itself as a now thing. It was Friday. They were leaving. I was leaving. It was about 4:15. They all usually left at 6. And Bob Ezrin [Alice’s producer] said, “You need rock stars?” And I thought, “Did he just say what I thought he said?” I had that moment of going, it was like that moment with Jackson Browne, where I wanted to say no. But at this point, I thought, I know what he just said. He just said, do I want Alice Cooper and Johnny Depp to sing on my record? I know he just said that. And so I went downstairs and I thought, I can’t not do that. I would be kicking myself to no end, if I did not act on this.

So I went downstairs and I went, “Okay Bob, ready for the rock stars.” He said, “Oh, I’m working on the drums right now. You’ve got to go talk to Alice. It’s his session.” So I did. I just said, “Hey” – this is a phrase that has served me well before – ”Would you be willing to… ” Like if I could get the “willing” out, maybe I could ask the rest of it. “Would you guys be willing to come upstairs and do some really simple handclaps and really simple backing vocals?” And they said yes. So basically, I hijacked their downtime. It wasn’t really downtime. They were working on drums and everyone was standing around, basically, including Johnny Depp. He was standing around, while Bob was working on the drum track.

So they came upstairs. And they were great. And at the end, Bruce Witkin [Depp’s lifelong friend and former bandmate/lead singer/bassist in The Kids] goes, “Wait till I tell my wife I sang on your record!” I go, “Are you kidding?” [Laughs] “Wait till you tell your wife? Wait till I tell my kids!” 

PCC:
Well, it must be great satisfaction, after a long gap between albums, to have this one out there and to know how good it really is.

GOFFIN:
It’s a nice feeling to be able to come out with something that I feel is so solid. And it makes me feel like I just can’t do it any other way. And also, the big lesson for me is that most of record-making doesn’t occur in the recording. It all happens before. And I never knew that. I always, thought, oh, you start a record and you’re in the middle of the record and you go, “Oh, we need more songs.” Or “Let’s try that song a different way.” Well, the difference between this record and every other record I’ve ever made is, all of these songs have been played live, with the exception of “Watching The Sky Turn Blue” and “Sword In My Heart.” “Watching The Sky Turn Blue” was just written and boom, recorded. Same with “Sword.” But everything else here had been played live a lot, before recording.

And this is interesting – I noticed that, because of that, every track on this record has an ending [laughs]. There are no fades on this record. And that’s because I had been playing them live. The entire record has endings. 

Jim Keltner said to me the other day, “I always try to tell this to artists – if you know how to play your song from beginning to end and it sounds good with you playing it, the band will sound great on it. If you can’t play your song all the way through and make it sound good, then we’re just guessing.” He said, “When you sit at your piano or you sit at your instrument and you play your song for the band, you have to lead the charge. You have to take charge of what you’re doing. And they feel it.” 

And I know, even just the other day, playing these new songs, when I know how the song goes, and I’m digging into that moment before the chorus comes in and I’m hitting the piano harder, because it’s building, the musicians will follow that and do that with you. But it’s got to come from you. No one’s going to save you. No producer…

I mean, a lot of people do that. The producers write and produce and they give the artist a sound. And it can be years – and maybe never – that an artist can actually pull that off without the producer or the record or the band. So this is doing it the old-school way. Engineers used to just take a live band and they’d mix the record before they would record it, by deciding where the mics should go. They would make sure that the mic placement had the right levels of the song. And then, when they recorded it, it already sounded great. That’s the way it used to be done. Now we record 38 tracks and move this down, move this up, tune things. And it’s really easy to come up with something that sounds like something in an inorganic way and then you learn it after – which is fine, too. But the reason this record was made so quickly, in terms of my history, it’s because the work had been done before the recording started. 

PCC:
With all the work, all the challenges of a life in music, what have been the biggest rewards for you, generally?

GOFFIN:
Well, the satisfaction is really the message of ”Deep Dark Night Of The Soul,” that things work out. I’ve worried a lot in my life. I really suffered from a lack of faith. Like I really worried about if things would work out, if I’d ever get any good at what I did. And I put so much stock, most of my life, especially when I was young, in people outside of me, to make things happen. I thought I needed a record company. I thought I needed somebody with a lot of clout. I thought I needed someone with power. These are all terribly disempowering beliefs to have, where you’re just a pinball machine, going through life, getting bounced around here and there. And if somebody doesn’t like something, you look for the next person who’s going to believe in you. That’s just not a good way to go through life.

And it really, really took me a long time to get to the place, knowing, just like Jim Keltner was saying, if I can do this myself, all the other things will fall into place. So, as soon as you’re looking for some outside thing to fill the equation, in any department of life, you’re in trouble, because nobody can give you what’s missing. Nobody can do that for you. And if they can, then you’re really walking a very unstable place, because they have too much power, because if they go away, then you don’t have it anymore. 

So, to me, that’s the most satisfying thing, to know that I could throw myself into a lot of situations in life and swim. I could throw myself in water and swim. And having that confidence made me less frightened in life. 

I mean, I moved to another country, when I was 24. That was a huge thing. I honestly did not know one person, when I moved to England. I had one friend who’d lived there and moved to New York and she gave me her phone book. She said, “Here are all the people I know. Here are their names. Here are their numbers.” And that was it. I would just call and say, “Hey, I’m a friend of…” And that was how I started there. And I had a record deal. I didn’t know the people there. I was just on my own, really, in this other country. And I ended up being there 10 years. Granted, they spoke English [laughs] at least. It’s a lot harder to move to a country where you don’t speak the language. Now, with the internet, England feels closer, but when I moved there, it really felt like I was far away. And the culture was completely different. I was taking buses, and I’d lived in a car culture. It was a very different lifestyle from what it is here. 

The other satisfaction was, when I was asked to produce my mother. It was another one of those things where I wanted to say no at first, because I thought, “I don’t want to work for my Mom, one. Two, I don’t want to be in the whole machine. I want to have self-expression.” But I was so assured that they wanted me to do the record that I was hearing, that I wanted to make, the way I wanted to make it, and, in fact, she didn’t want to write songs. So there were elements missing, that we didn’t have, that we could not find, songs to fit the bills, that needed to be written. And so I ended up writing with other people, calling in the right co-writers for things. But honestly, when that record was nominated for a Grammy, that was so, so far from what I imagined would have come out of that record. I didn’t imagine anything like that.

PCC:
It must have been so special to have that sort of validation on a project where you were sharing creativity with your mom.

PCC:
Yeah, we were a great team on that record. We really were, because she was very much the artist and I was very much the producer. First of all, when you’re producing a great artist, the stakes, everything just goes up to a higher level. And I provided something for her. I mean, she could get anybody to produce her. But she really needed to feel comfortable being in the studio and comfortable being in L.A. And I provided her with a lot of comfort. When she didn’t need to be there, I would do the work. And, when she did need to be there, I would say, “You need to be there.” [Laughs]”You need to be on the mic.” And a lot of people wouldn’t be as strong with her. I was like, “You really need to be on the mic, when we record it.” “No, I don’t feel like singing. Can’t we just record the band and I’ll sing it later?” “No, you need to be on the mic, while we’re recording it.” [Laughs] And anyway, it was a really good collaboration. 

PCC:
You seem ready for many more great collaborations and solo efforts in the future.

GOFFIN:
Yeah, I hope so. Billy Harvey and I continue to write songs. So we have a record’s worth of material, as a duo. That’s another record waiting to be done. So I just really see this as a time when I want to write and record and make up for lost time.

Five Questions: Louise Goffin

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No Depression Americana and Roots Music


Five Questions: Louise Goffin

Posted by Kelly McCartney on July 16, 2014 at 10:00am

  As the child of Carole King and Gerry Goffin, singer/songwriter Louise Goffin comes from musical stock. But genetics never grant a free pass or guarantee a successful career. Just ask Ben Taylor or Holly Williams. Sure, it’s a leg up, but an artist still has to prove themselves on their own merit. So that’s what Goffin has done, slowly and steadily, over the years. With her new album, Songs from the Mine, she takes another step forward into the spotlight. It’s a solid effort from a thoughtful artist who has nurtured her given gifts and let her career set its own pace while balancing a life outside of music.

There are quite a few female artists of a certain age who are balancing kids and career and coming out with new records this year. What has motherhood contributed to your music? And, alternately, what have you had to sacrifice?


Balancing kids and career can be challenging, but a lot of women do it and do it well. I had lots of years to spend on my career without children, and the qualities I brought to my work after I was a mother were different to what I showed up with before I was one. And both phases of my life were valuable. Some of the songs I wrote before I was a mother, I still like but, at that stage, I can say my records would be more a reflection of someone else’s point of reference which is what you do when you’re young — lean on other people for direction. But, after I had my first child and I knew what it was like to be a mother and advocate for someone other than myself, I became better at taking responsibility for my own destiny. I was less inclined to people-please.

Once I was in the phase of motherhood, I knew better than I did before that what I allowed and didn’t allow made a difference. Ultimately, as an artist and a mother, you have to stand up and speak up for what you believe in, not just toward your kids, but in the world. I’m not going to let an expert tell me what’s best for my kids if I feel something’s not right or just doesn’t resonate with my instincts. We have to be experts on our own lives. From that acquired strength, I’m also not going to let a record be made and released if I don’t feel it’s the best it could be.

I have also learned to make minutes and hours matter. I used to have all day to write a song, record it… whatever it was, and I didn’t spend my time as wisely. I used to produce entire tracks that had no lyrics. Somewhere, I have reels of half-inch eight track tapes documenting wasted time. As soon as I had two hours of time to myself before the babysitter had to go home, I’d make sure I’d get something done.

And by showing up to their schools in the past to contribute as a musician, I’ve met many talented parents. The rhythm section on the track “Watching the Sky Turn Blue” came from amazingly talented parent musicians I met when my kids were in preschool and elementary school (drummer Joey Peters and bassist Paul Bushnell). There’s a camaraderie among parents who are working, who know the multi-tasking drill and who long ago gave up the notion that life revolved around only your own star. Kids will knock that perspective right out of you, which levels the playing field.

I don’t get to pick up and move where I want to when I want to now that there are other people’s routines that get affected. But I have given my kids the kind of stability I always longed for yet was too restless to give myself. I don’t think so much that that’s a sacrifice, although it sometimes feels like one. Chaos, instability, and drama may look good in the movies and be fun to write about and, although some artists thrive on it, its not a winning recipe over time. The body gives out from exhaustion, and I am learning to pace myself. Maybe there’s nothing I’ve sacrificed as a mother that I truly ever needed in the first place, other than sleep and time to read a book.

Following along a similar thread, a song like “Here Where You Are Loved” is so perfect and profound in its simplicity. When you sit down to write and/or record, how much of the process is about subtraction rather than addition?


I think that was the second song Billy Harvey and I ever wrote together and, at the time, we were writing for ourselves to perform as a duo. What I remember about that song was not having much lyrically to start with other than a line that had the word “yesterday” in it. And the phrase “taxis and red lights” was written somewhere in my notebook. There wasn’t much of an idea there. “I’m right here in the sun here where you are loved” was Billy’s line. He also reworked the yesterday idea to make it “there will always be a yesterday craving your attention” which I love.

As far as subtraction and addition goes, sometimes I make up words on the mic as if it’s real, as if it’s worthy, and then replace it later with something that holds up. Neither of us was afraid to share the lines that might be thrown out by the other, and then keep on finding new ideas. So, while it is about subtraction, you do have to be willing to throw a lot into the mix first to have enough to subtract from.

Your father passed away recently. His amazing musical contributions notwithstanding, what was his greatest gift to you on a personal level?


The greatest gift anyone can give a child is love, and I knew he loved me, and he knew I loved him. He could be hard on me when I was very young. Some of that was projection because he was constantly critical of himself and would undervalue his own abilities. The amount of tributes and recognition that poured out worldwide in the few weeks after he left this earth, he himself would not have believed. The line my son told me in the airport when I took him to Austin with me recently was “If Grandpa knew how many people loved him, he would’ve died.” My father would’ve found that incredibly funny and laughed heartily over it. He didn’t fully accept how good he was. He’d say “I’m just a lyricist.”

Because my father had, my whole life, been bi-polar, I never knew which version of my Dad I would get. I learned how to be in the moment and respond to life’s extremes because growing up with Gerry taught me hard lessons about surviving and reinventing who you thought you were, because I grew up anticipating major curve balls all the time. The pendulum swings. Dad would be sick. Dad would be in the hospital. Dad would be feeling good and have a lucid amazing streak where he was the most inspiring person to talk to. He would play chess with me when I was eight. Or he’d be making no sense at all. Sometimes he’d call to say he was thinking about me and my kids, and that he put us in his prayers every night. It was easy to love my father, although not always easy to love his illness.

There’d be those wonderful, bright moments with him when his smile would light up a room. He was a charismatic guy. But always lurking was this side where he’d be so deep into his own thoughts, I’d wonder if he was even aware of where he was or what was happening around him. Those days were a challenge.

I idolized him as a kid and I hoped that, if you could be as clever as he was, surely you could influence the way things turned out by a good enough song. But no one knew better than him that that didn’t work. Songs could melt and move people but rarely change the outcome of a life drama. All of his songs were motivated by an innocent belief you could change things by saying things in just the right way and the fact that it didn’t work gave birth to one great song after another.

You must feel both the blessing and the curse of your parents’ musical legacy. How do you set both aspects aside and just pursue what’s right for you?


I decided at 12 to go into music, and I didn’t think anything other than “This is fun.” I think the concept of a “legacy” is more of a construct that refers to something after the fact. “And he hit a home run!” is only something the anchorman says after the player has done it. So all you can ever do is pursue what’s right for you in each moment. Music always felt right for me.

What wisdom do you hope to pass on to your kids, who bear a similar artistic cross?


I often wish I knew how to be more like my kids. They don’t complicate what they feel, they express themselves in a direct way, and they seem to be wired to advocate for themselves based on who they honestly are. They’re good problem solvers and naturally gifted, so the main cross they have to bear is how to cook and clean up after themselves — which is what we all have to learn, ultimately, practically, and spiritually. Wisdom doesn’t so much get passed onto your kids by what you say; it’s more about what they see and how you live.

 

 No Depression Americana and Roots Music

 

 

Louise Goffin Welcomes a Few Village People to Her Magical Music Kingdom

 

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posted by Michael Bialas  July 15, 2014 | 1:39 PM

 

It’s not often that a musician serenades an interviewer over the phone, but these were unusual circumstances.

Singer-songwriter (and now producer) Louise Goffin, about a week away from releasing Songs From the Mine, was at home in Los Angeles cheerily singing an 81-year-old classic that’s nowhere to be found on her first album in six years.

Without your love
It’s a honky tonk parade
Without your love
It’s a melody played in a penny arcade

Gerry Goffin introduced his daughter in the 1970s to “It’s Only a Paper Moon” when they saw the film Paper Moon that starred Ryan and Tatum O’Neal.

That bonding experience was further reinforced when Louise later visited her dad, who had divorced her mother, Carole King, in 1968.

“I remember going to his house once and saying, ‘I love that song’ … and he’d just break out in song with me. And we’d sing the whole thing together,” Louise tenderly recalled in July, 18 days after her father died on June 19 at age 75.

“He just so loved … he loved good writing. And it was so fun to see him singing, and singing that song with him smiling, and he knew every single syllable of the lyric.”

 

LouiseGoffin3byRuelLeePhotography

 

Knowing most of the words herself, Goffin (left) was happy to share that memory of her father, whose captivating lyrics combined with King’s beautiful melodies to create so many magical pop and rock tunes in the ’60s that landed them in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Their songs turned into gold records, and they also made two golden girls together.

While younger sister Sherry focused more on the business side, and eventually became King’s manager, Louise shared her parents’ joy of making music. As a 6-year-old, she got easy to follow instructions from a John Thompson piano guide that she still owns. Even before that, Louise was shown where to place her little fingers on the keys by her mother’s mother.

The urge to play other instruments and write music soon followed, and by the time King moved to L.A. with her daughters, Goffin said, “I started making up songs.”

Born in the Sheepshead Bay area of Brooklyn, this child of the ’60s sounds like she still enjoys the creative process, with life experiences bringing confidence and wisdom to the songwriting craft that were lacking when she released her first record, Kid Blue, in 1979.

“I struggled for years with lyric writing,” she said. “When you’re really young, you don’t have much to write about because you haven’t had anything happen to you. My first record was about high school. (laughs) ‘Jimmy and the Tough Kids.’ …

“I worked really hard at it. And now I just … it just flows. I see things, I write them and I have way more ease with lyrics than I ever had.”

After setting aside her career to have two children of her own, Goffin is back with a record of bittersweet treats and shimmering, simmering summertime sunshine.

Songs From the Mine, out July 15 on her own Majority of One Records, includes feel-good tracks like “Follow My Heart” and “We Belong Together,” a number of songwriting collaborations with people Goffin met on visits to Nashville and the Steel Bridge Songfest in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin, and guest appearances by Alice Cooperand Johnny Depp.

So how does luring two pop-culture phenoms into your studio happen?

All the personable Goffin needed was a proper introduction at The Village recording studios in L.A. by Bob Ezrin, a producer she first met in her Elektra/Asylum days, to get in a room with Cooper and Depp and persuade them to lend backup vocals and handclaps to “Watching the Sky Turn Blue.”

Working in what was once “literally a closet” upstairs in the same building where Cooper and his band, including Depp on drums, were recording, the persistent Goffin managed to run into Ezrin two days after getting shut down by a heavy security presence there to maintain Depp’s privacy.

When Ezrin said, “Whatever you need, come downstairs, we got it,” she took him up on his offer. After borrowing a Les Paul from Cooper guitarist Tommy Henricksen, Goffin said she was ready for the rock stars.

“And (Ezrin) just put it all on me,” she said. “He’s like, ‘Well, you got to go talk to them yourself.’ So I did. I was just fearless. I mean, I was terrified. If you don’t ask, you don’t get.”

No newcomer to celebrity encounters after growing up in a house with showbiz parents, Goffin admits she still gets star struck.

“I turn into a teenager sometimes. I was that way with Johnny Depp. I act cool. I called my 11-year-old and said, ‘Oh my God, you won’t believe who’s at the studio!’ He’s like, ‘Keep him there. Don’t let him leave.’ Johnny was very sweet. He let him take a picture.”

Growing up, most of Goffin’s idols existed on vinyl, including David Bowie, Joni Mitchell and Simon and Garfunkel.

“That’s why it was so impactful that I was in a room with Alice Cooper because I had those records as a teenager,” she said. “I think I sent away and paid a dollar for some record club to own Muscle of Love.”

As a youngster, she was overwhelmed by meeting Neil Young when King and her girls lived in Malibu near Broad Beach Road. Interacting with the rich, powerful and famous remains a thrilling — and sometimes stressful — experience, even as recently as at her father’s memorial.

“I was completely like gobsmacked, as they say in England,” Goffin said of introducing herself to Paul Simon, whose “Rene and Georgette Magritte With Their Dog After the War” is one of her favorite songs. “I walked up to him and I said, ‘I feel a bit intimidated. … I feel like I’m standing here with icons.’

“He’s like, ‘Don’t be ridiculous. There is no such thing as an icon. It’s the most completely made up thing ever, and there’s nothing that messes your sense of reality up more than when people think you’re great. It’s a meaningless word,’ he said. And I felt really embarrassed.”

While her parents might be partly responsible for Goffin’s claim to fame, she got an early introduction to independence when she was 17, living by herself in Laurel Canyon while finishing her senior year of high school.

“I was totally on my own,” she said. “At the time, I didn’t really think much about it. But as a parent today, I’m going, ‘Are you serious?’ ”

Goffin said she refused to move with her mother and sister “to the middle of nowhere with no running water and no electricity to live in a cabin” in Idaho.

“‘Well, you can take care of yourself. I trust you. And your dad’s in town,’ ” Goffin recalled King telling her. “And my dad was not parental at the time. I was parenting him practically. So it was crazy. I had all this responsibility and adulthood on my shoulders when I was a kid.”

Asked if she received career advice from her parents, Goffin said, “Honestly, they couldn’t really help too much.”

Getting the name and number of King’s lawyer from her mother did encourage Goffin to pursue a record deal, but a determined teenager still wanted to make it on her own.

“And the record company almost became a parental replacement for me, which was not so great,” she said. “When people are making money from you and you’re looking at them for guidance, it’s not a good combination.”

Regarding Gerry Goffin’s role in her musical upbringing, Goffin said, “My dad never discouraged me. I basically grew up with my mother. I saw my dad on a regular basis. And I had a good relationship with my dad.

“Definitely complex because he was a person with mood swings. It wouldn’t so much manifest as anything other than being a kid seeing my father put himself through a hard time. It wasn’t like he wasn’t there for me, it was just that it really upset me when he would be depressed. I’d always want to make him feel better.”

Goffin said by the age of 12, she was “dead-set on being her (mother’s) job description. You know, singer-songwriter.”

If that was the last thing King wanted for her child, Goffin understands why today.

“She seemed to want to dissuade me from doing it and I think it was more from if you make it like she did or like Bob Dylan did or like anyone does, you’re lucky,” Goffin said. “And you don’t want your kids to go through doing that job and not making it.”

By the mid-’80s, Goffin moved to London, setting up a little studio in her one-bedroom flat, and learned how “records work” and to play a number of instruments during her 10-year stay. The new album, where she plays piano, organ, guitars, ukulele, a snare drum and more, is an example of her successful self-education.

It was at the Salute to the American Songwriter concert in 1988 that King brought her daughter onstage during a medley of the songwriting dream team’s hits that included “Don’t Bring Me Down,” “Pleasant Valley Sunday,” “One Fine Day” and
“(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman”:

“I was inspired to play guitar by another Gerry Goffin and Carole King collaboration: Louise Goffin.”

Goffin didn’t recall the introduction, but offered, “That sounds like something she’d say. … I think I turned her on to a lot of music when I was a teenager.”

“Teenagers are great for turning you on to new stuff ’cause they’re so into music,” added Goffin, who at the age of 11 or 12 was so attracted to her dad’s 12-string guitar that she hurt her fingers trying to play it. ”

Music became secondary after the arrival of Goffin’s two sons (“that’s a lot of heavy lifting”). But as they got older (now 14 and 11), she slowly began to get involved in other projects.

After producing and cowriting songs for King’s 2011 A Holiday Carole that earned a Grammy nomination, Goffin decided to take on that dual role at Village on a more permanent basis.

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Musicians performing with Louise Goffin include (from left) trombonist-keyboardist Mike Thompson, drummer Butch Norton, bassist Bob Glaub, and (not pictured here)
guitarist-singer Billy Harvey.

Some of the new album’s songs were written and demoed in 2012 (“Follow My Heart” includes the original vocals), and Goffin tested the material on some Hotel Cafe audiences with a backing band that included keyboardist Lee Curreri, bassist Bob Glaub and special guest Billy Harvey, a guitarist/singer-songwriter, actor just moved to LA from Austin, recommended by her songwriting friend David Baerwald.

“To actually be out there and have to sing and play for a whole set was really jumping into the fire in a major way for me,” Goffin said. “Especially being out of the swing of it with kids.” The live band for awhile became a duo with Goffin and Harvey called A Fine Surprise.

“It was hard to get people to come from different parts of the U.S. for a duo, for a band name that no one has heard before,” Goffin said. “We were just making it up as we went along. But we just had this killer songwriting and singing chemistry together.”

Song From The Mine Cover Art 300

The connection remains, though, and Harvey is featured prominently on the album, along with Glaub, drummer Butch Norton and keyboardist Patrick Warren.

“I realize when you work with people at the top of their game as a team, life becomes easier,” Goffin said. “You don’t have to reinvent the wheel every single time you do something. I was better than I thought at taking responsibility for a record from beginning to end.”

The album might not have been made if it wasn’t for the 2014 MusiCares Person of the Year gala in January that honored King, who asked her daughter to perform alongside the offspring of another musical, ahem, icon. This one goes by the name of Bob.

The idea to record Songs From the Mine was finalized in late 2013, when an acquaintance told Goffin, “It behooves you to have some product out” to coincide with the MusiCares event held during Grammy week in front of prominent names in the industry.

So Goffin appeared with Jakob Dylan to sing the Byrds’ “Goin’ Back,” written by King and Gerry Goffin, and the two grown children who are expected by total strangers to live up to the family legacy sat down to compare notes.

Dylan asked Goffin about Beautiful: The Carole King Musical, the Tony nominee currently on Broadway.

“Oh, I haven’t seen it yet,” Goffin said he told him. “But I think the story is my dad went to the producers and told them every single thing he ever did. And my dad, he’s incapable of not being honest. Like he tells all. And they put it all in the play.”

Dylan laughed, Goffin recalled, and said, “That’s funny. My dad will say anything as long as it’s not true.”

Not one to take stock in false hopes or urban legends (her parents never worked in the Big Apple’s historic Brill Building, she points out), Goffin acknowledged, “I’m not gonna be one of those superstar performers who’s gonna get on the Oprah show performing the hit song who’s got the big record company behind them like Celine Dion or one of the American Idol winners.”

Yet she takes pride in her musical contributions that include five previous solo albums.

She cites “5th of July” and “Bridge of Sighs” as ’80s songs that “really hold up lyrically,” along with “The Heart is the Last Frontier,” one she wrote in the early ’90s and continues to perform live but never recorded.

“And I know my father loved all those songs, but he didn’t tell me because he was afraid it would go to my head if he told me that he liked them,” Goffin said. “So I had to dig it out of his wife at the time. … I was still chasing approval of daddy at that point.”

That was years after an 8-year-old Louise sat at the piano playing Beatles songs and made-up tunes for her father, who recorded them for posterity’s sake while filling the role of producer/drill instructor. But she would dutifully obey his order.

“He was tough,” Goffin said, laughing at the memory. To illustrate that, her voice transformed into an endearing imitation of his thick Brooklyn accent.

“The tape’s rolling. Do it again.”

If only the Goffins were together again to share one more verse from “It’s Only a Paper Moon”:

It’s a Barnum and Bailey world
Just as phony as it can be
But it wouldn’t be make believe
If you believed in me

Publicity photos by Ruel Lee Photography.

 

 

 

 

Interview – American Songwriter

American Songwriter Logo

Louise Goffin

Written by  June 23rd, 2014 at 8:32 amlouise-goffin-1024x682

photo by eric raptosh photography

 

Louise Goffin  will release Songs From The Mine, her first album in six years, on July 15. We spoke to the daughter of songwriting legends Carole King and Gerry Goffin about recruiting Alice Cooper and Johnny Depp for her record, her songwriting heroes, her thoughts on the perfect song and more.

How would you describe your new album?

It’s born out of a palette of traveling, songwriting, living, risking and growth. It’s diverse and warm with a connecting thread going through it. At some point I decided I was sick of writing break-up songs, and there isn’t one on here.

How would you compare it to your last album?

Aside from the no-break-up-song difference, Bad Little Animals was assembled from work I did over a few years while I was raising babies, so even though it presents as a whole work, each track had another situation, energy and place and time it was recorded. Songs From The Minecaptures and distills both musically and lyrically a period of time in the writing, and the recording was started the last week of November through February of this year. There were breaks in that time for travel and gigs, yet there’s a feeling that runs through it beginning to end. This record is also the first time, after five other solo releases, that I set out producing from beginning to end.

How did Alice Cooper and Johnny Depp end up on the album?

It was a combination of serendipitous circumstances and both Bob Ezrin’s and their generosity…and some fearlessness on my part. When I was recording “Watching The Sky Turn Blue,” it was just me and my recording engineer that week, Steve Bone. We were at Village Recording Studios the same time Bob Ezrin was producing Alice Cooper’s new record. The first time I met Bob I was seventeen. My then-record company, Elektra-Asylum, had sent me to his house in L.A. to meet him about producing my first record and after the meeting I learned that he told them he wouldn’t produce me on the basis that he didn’t want the music business to ruin my life. He and I have seen one another a few times since, and we laugh about what an ineffective strategy that was. The next time I saw him after that meeting I lived in London a decade or so later and what got me there was, of course, music.

Fast forward to me producing “Watching The Sky Turn Blue” at Village, and I saw him in the reception area. “Weezie!” Bob calls me, and he invited me into their studio to “come on and meet the boys.” I would’ve been just fine with coming home that night saying, “hey guess what happened to me at the studio today? I met Alice Cooper and Johnny Depp.” I did think that was the end of that, and that they needed to be left alone and I needed to finish my song, but on the third and last day of finishing my track, Bob surprised me at around 4 o’clock by walking into the studio I was in, and listened to what I was working on. He made a suggestion that I try it at a faster tempo. I made a comment about how impractical it was at this late stage, that I’d already sent back the Les Paul I used from SIR to cut the guitars. He smiled and offered “you need guitars? We got guitars! You need rock stars, we got rock stars!” Then he went back downstairs.

It took a few minutes for me to process it all. Speed it up, recut the guitars, put rock stars on it, and do it all right now. I decided to go for it, and I went downstairs and asked Tommy Hendrickson if I could borrow his Les Paul. Since I already had a sound dialed in, I was able to recut the guitars in a half an hour, and then when I brought back the guitar, I said “ok Bob, I’m ready for the rock stars!” Bob was working on a drum take with Glen Sobel and told me I had to go into the other room and ask Alice myself. I went in – Alice was laying down on the couch in Studio A. Tommy Hendrickson and Bruce Witkins were by the coffee machine. I said, “hey, would you guys be willing to come upstairs and sing some simple backing vocals and do some hand claps on my song?” Alice thought for a minute, nodded his head and said “sure.” I then got a rare opportunity to expose some of my embarrassing cultural media-deprivation…having not read the Rolling Stone magazine sitting on the coffee table with Johnny Depp on the cover, I asked, “does Johnny sing?” I think Bruce or Tommy said, “go ask him.”

I went back into the control room and walked up to Johnny, who was standing against the back wall, and uttered, “do you sing?” His response was, “I’m alright”. He agreed to come up and sing too. So the Village staff were quite surprised to see four Hollywood Vampires following me, the Pied Piper, up the stairs into this little control room with only two pairs of headphones hooked up. My engineer was also surprised to see us all walk through the door. We managed it though. We had two of us listening to the phones and conducting the others on where the downbeat was. At the end they were so humble as to thank me for letting them sing on my record. Can you imagine? It was the last hour they were working at Village before everyone split off into different cities and schedules, and I knew that if I had tried to set up that group of people doing a vocal session, just even on schedules alone, it would be hard to come by. I was already verklempt with just getting to meet them. I certainly didn’t wake up on a Wednesday morning thinking, “what shall I wear today? I’m gonna meet Johnny Depp”. It was surreal to even take in Alice Cooper, whose vinyl records I listened to in my bedroom as a teenager, and a movie star like Johnny Depp, were in the control room with me, singing on my song. Ultimately none of it would’ve happened without Bob Ezrin who paved the way by introducing me to them all like family, telling the story of how we met. Everyone’s respect for Bob became an openness and willingness toward me. And let me tell you, respect for Bob runs high among all of them and me both. We all have that in common.

I’m sure you get asked this a lot, but what’s it like to be the child of two famous songwriters?

Its an interesting question because as we all know, to be the child of whatever parents you have is much more about who the parents are as people than what they do for a living. If the connection and love is there, what the outside world thinks is of little consequence. In my case, the standout thing that most affected me was their youth, and the stage of their lives and careers they were in when I was born. My mother had just turned 18. My dad, 21. Their careers were at the very beginning so for my early life they were ambitious and hard working, and focused primarily on writing songs and getting cuts. The aspect of having famous parents from the culture’s standpoint, and the way our culture processes celebrity, was always more of an inconvenience than something I consciously interpreted as an obstacle. Even my mother tried to talk me out of going into music when I was 12 and I had no idea what she was trying to protect me from. I had a passion and a dream, end of story. The inconvenience manifests much like when you meet a new person who can’t actually see you because their best friend already told them things about you that filter what they see. Or even like when you see a movie you’ve heard or read too much about…the movie doesn’t get you showing up with openness, you’re ready for it to be what you’re expecting it to be. For me to come into this world and choose to be a singer-songwriter instead of say, something like a marine biologist, and then having to generationally follow two famous songwriting parents, sets me up to now have to get you to actually see or hear me without you filtering me through what my parents did in their lives. That gets to be tiresome, especially when you have children of your own. Our culture is so hopelessly celebrity-obsessed, and not so great at looking and listening for what’s quality, or it just doesn’t know how to measure it other than by popularity. People rarely listen and judge for themselves, they need E.T. to tell them. I’m smart enough to know I have no control over what filters people bring to the table, and passionate enough about music and what gifts I show up with to not be deterred by the unconsciousness of people who see me through the filters of their expectations, or prejudice.

Ultimately, since songwriting was what I most witnessed my parents doing together as a child, I took in deeply that they were connecting in those moments of creating, and everything outside that activity looked more like a three-ring circus or alternatively, like bland TV culture and suburbia. And that continues today. I write songs and record and perform them. The rest of it is still a three-ring circus, TV culture and suburbia. It was clear to me from an early stage of life that songwriting was the moment of light beaming through the room. And the womb, too! ‘Cause they were writing songs even before I was born.

So no matter where I find myself in life at any stage, songwriting to me is a bit like what “rosebud” was to Citizen Kane. It takes me back to a simpler time when mommy and daddy were together. The difference being, of course, that Citizen Kane didn’t go into the business of sled making and I did go into the business of writing songs.

How often do you play for fun, just for yourself? What sort of stuff do you play when you do?

I play for fun a lot. In fact, most of the best stuff comes out of playing for fun. I improvise on the piano. I pick up a banjo and find new chords or try to figure a song out that I play on guitar but never learned on a different instrument. Or I try to figure out a song on guitar I only ever played on piano. I like playing the blues harp for fun. Singing in the shower, all of that. I often play boogie-woogie New Orleans style piano for fun. On guitar, I immediate go to the blues. I find open strings on banjo or mandolin or ukulele, and explore ways to change chords over pedaling open strings. Sometimes an alternate tuning can be fun to knock around and try different shapes with.

What was your first instrument and how did you learn to play it?

Oh, definitely the piano. I sat down and looked for patterns and memorized the ones that sounded good. I made as many songs up as I could with as few chords as I knew. You’d be surprised how many variations you can come up with of four chords.

Who are your songwriting heroes?

Paul Simon, Lennon and McCartney, Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, Brian Wilson. Bruce Springsteen, Chrissie Hynde, David Bowie, Stevie Nicks. Those were the people who first come to mind who gave me permission to turn my emotions and impressions into a collage of feeling, draw connections together and make it rhyme…and to break the ABC,ABC,D,C pattern – i.e., verse, pre, chorus, verse, pre, chorus, bridge, chorus and fade.

And I’d be negligent if I didn’t include people who were the trail blazers of pop music: Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil, Holland and Dozier, my parents, Jeff Barry and Elie Greenwich. In my late teens and early twenties I was much influenced by the long story form that songwriters like Don Henley and Jackson Browne took. Songs didn’t have to be a block-building shape anymore, it could tell the story of a novel in short form, with just the emotional moments…and that was exciting for me. Mick Jagger and Keith Richards wrote some great songs. Peter Gabriel was a big influence when I was in my teens. And beyond that I referred back to Paul McCartney, Beatles, and Brian Wilson’s records for permission to do things musically that conventional songwriters don’t tend to go for, like put a bar of two in the middle of nowhere, or a middle eight that was really a middle five, or have five totally different sections and not repeat them as expected. Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side Of The Moon” paved the way for that, although back in the day they called it “a concept record.” I call it having imagination. I sought out and nourished myself on whatever gave me permission to have the biggest range and vocabulary. Because I started off in a songwriting environment, my ambition wasn’t to be at the top of the hit parade and study what was most popular, it was to be the best I could be.

What was the first song you ever wrote? Tell us about it.

The first song I remember writing was called “Quiet Times” although I’m sure I made up songs before that. I wish I had an existing copy of it. I don’t remember how it goes, but I remember the feeling of it, and that it was an acoustic guitar finger-picking song, and was about sitting up on a hill.

What’s the last song you wrote or started?

The last one I can remember that I started I’ve been calling “The Mistress of Killer Riley James.” I drove up to Santa Barbara sometime in February for a glam camp weekend, brought my guitar and was (ha ha!) playing for fun. I was (what did I tell ya?) playing the blues…and started singing “still ain’t unpacked my suitcase, I’m on the road again…Killer Riley James is one hell of a switcherman. Here I am, watching the clock outside the Metro. If he changes his mind one more time, you know I gonna have to get low.”

Its about this man who used to be mine but he keeps switching from woman to woman. Now the new woman won’t let him go ’cause she doesn’t see the kind of man he really is. I even played it half-finished live at Whip In in Austin, when I went to SXSW a few months back, and I asked audience members to put in a basket how they thought the story should turn out at the end. What does she do about this mistress and her man Killer Riley James? I still don’t know how it’ll end, but I like some of the lyrics that I have so far and I’m going to keep going on it.

What’s the best song you ever wrote?

If I told you that, that’d be all she wrote! I couldn’t resist the set up, sorry.

Honestly, that question feels like you’re asking me which of my children I like the best. To look at my body of work so far, and objectively choose one that’s “the one” when I’m here and feel like I’m just getting started, takes the fun out of it, because Evan, I ain’t done yet!

I can tell you some songs I’ve written that I can say I’ve come to enjoy no matter what the arrangement is when I’m playing live. Some I wrote a long time ago, and some more recently.

In no apparent order, “Fifth of July,” “New Year’s Day,” “The Heart Is The Last Frontier” (never been released), “Pink Champagne,” “Bridge of Sighs,” “Clicking To The Next Slide,” “Archives,” “Saved By The Bell.” There’s a lot of songs I’m proud to be a part of on Songs From The Mine. “Some Of Them Will Fool You,” “Here Where You Are Loved,” “Main Street Parade,” “Good Life,” “Deep Dark Night Of The Soul,” “Everybody But You,” “Follow My Heart,” “Get With The World.”

How do you go about writing songs?

I sit with an instrument in my hands and I sing a phrase I like. I tend to jot phrases down on my phone notes or in a notebook, and will start singing something I liked enough to write down when I’m playing a few chords. Sometimes I overhear something, or see a sign outside a church, or even a few times I’ve misheard a lyric to a song and find out it was different than I heard but I keep the phrase I thought it was. Sometimes book titles will spur off an idea. When I wrote “5th of July” it was inspired by a photograph in a magazine of a littered beach, and beneath the photo was the date it was taken. I knew there was a story to tell in that picture.

“Archives” was inspired by what the front of my notebook said when I was staring at it with no ideas. I rhymed “archives” and “our lives” singing in the shower.

“Clicking To The Next Slide” was inspired by a View-Master toy.

So its usually an idea and playing an instrument. But sometimes a song starts with no idea at all. I’ve shown up to write thinking the day was going to be a total wash and then come up with something worthy just when I was going to give up for the day. More and more I find its better to stay out of my head, sing and get a feeling, even gibberish, into my body. Like Paul McCartney tells about the the song “Yesterday.” A song filled with regret looking back at the past, starting with him singing the phrase “scrambled eggs” over the chord changes. Its good bicycle grease on the chain to not take yourself seriously when you’re starting a song. I find my muse does not like seriousness or ego, and I need her to hang around.

What is your approach to writing lyrics?

Its messy. I write all over the page, I write sideways, I circle things, cross out things. I have rhyming brainstorms and rhyme dumb ideas just to get myself in a playful spirit. I used to be a perfectionist at the early writing stage and found it did me no good. It takes confidence to let yourself write badly and not take it personally when what you write sucks. No one has to see that draft. You just move on to a better idea. Its a good practice to not be attached to every idea. The more you put on the page, the more you have to play with and edit which is a good thing.The level of excellence a song gets to can be more about a writer’s personal taste in what to leave in and take out. Or what to chase more of, out of what landed on you by accident. Its really all preparation for what feels like an accidental gift. Then you run with the gift and get rid of what holds it back from soaring.

What sort of things inspire you to write?

A phrase or picture with an unmined story yet to be told, heartache, hope, sexuality, playfulness, and more often than not, hearing someone else’s good work inspires me to stretch myself to do something I haven’t done before. Also there’s nothing like a deadline to get a song written…’cause I just need to write one and I need it today.

What’s a song on your album you’re particularly proud of and why?

One that has a little niche of its own was one I wrote with Corinne Lee and Craig Greenberg a year ago, called “Deep Dark Night Of The Soul.” I love the simplicity of the melody and lyric because it tells a clear story about how living unwisely led to the darkest hour, yet ties it up nicely to how it all worked out. It has both a sense of humor and playfulness to it. I think I was picturing Wes Anderson’s movie “Moonrise Kingdom,” writing about the sand castle and the wave crashing it down on the shore. And I was hearing French-speaking coming in when we were writing it. Fortunately, Corinne Lee spoke some French and just started riffing on these nonsense lyrics about reading trashy novels, smoking a lot of cigarettes, loving ketchup, and walking her cat and dog on the beach. Also since that song was written at Steel Bridge Songfest in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin (a festival run by my friend and collaborator, Pat MacDonald) there is a requirement that all the songs written there have a line in it about the bridge, which is the theme of the songwriting camp every June. “Deep Dark Night Of The Soul” has the set-up line in verse three “dizzy on the wonder wheel” and the verse closes with “make my bridges out of steel.” So we got the bridge line in, and it worked with the story the song had been telling all along. It was the line that ended the verse saying no more unwise choices, here’s a woman who makes her bridges out of steel. The track sounds like a fun drunken Parisian party after hours, when most of the people have gone home, and Delaney Davidson layered trombones that sound almost like they could have been on a Tom Waits record.

What’s a lyric or verse from the album you’re a fan of?

I really like “Some Of Them Will Fool You.” That verse was written in Nashville with a young songwriter, Steve Moaklar. I like the way it starts with a question. “Is that how it went down? Is that what you saw? Is that what you took? Is that what that means? Is that what you heard? Is that how it looked?” And though it sounds more like dialog than a song lyric, what I like about it is the way it enters a scene at a critical point where you already feel the story had something happening before the listener walks into the song. It makes me want to pay attention and find out what the singer is gonna say to this person she’s talking to. And for some crazy reason, I’ve always heard Willie Nelson singing that song.

Are there any words you love or hate?

It’s case by case, but there are words I don’t feel lend themselves well to a song form. “Power” isn’t a word I think I’d use in a lyric because of its generality.“Very” is a line weakener. I’m a believer in the active, not passive voice. I’d probably avoid “being” and “nice”, and any phrase I’d heard used before that came a little too easily to me. I’d try to improve anything cliché to sound fresh, to strike me as “ah, I haven’t heard it said that way before.”

Swear words can be effective if used intentionally to help the meaning of the song, or to emphasize something. Or even to cop the vernacular you’re going for, but when swear words are used to replace effort of a better way of describing something, I find it hard to listen to them. I tend to avoid words that feel general and will search further to find a word that describes more detail. Sometimes the energy of a word just bugs me, and doesn’t feel quite right and…out it goes.

I love internal rhymes. I love them because they are not the rhyme you expect, they’re an extra gift. Bob Dylan was a master at this. Whenever you can get an internal rhyme in a lyric, it doesn’t have to be a rule in every verse, but it helps the words imprint on your consciousness and memory the way a nursery rhyme does. As an example, my father, Gerry Goffin, uses it in the first verse of “Up On The Roof” but doesn’t go back to it again. He sets up “and people are just too much for me to face…(face is the word you’re expecting a rhyme for), and then he slips in “to the top of the stairs and all my cares” before getting to “drift right into space.” Verses two and three don’t do exactly that. I think if you write enough and become well-acquainted with words as your friends, after awhile you get an intuitive sense of phrasing and order that sounds pleasing, even when you’re not trying specifically to use a technique like alliteration or internal rhyming. Often those things just sneak up on you in surprising moments that you grab and say, “thank you God.”

What’s a song of yours that’s really touched people?

People are moved when I play an acoustic guitar version of the song “New Year’s Day,” which I wrote with Guy Chambers for A Holiday Carole. I think especially at the verse “and should old acquaintance be forgot, keep everything they gave you, and though they may be so far away, you walk with them each and every day.”

I wrote a yet-to-be-released song last year with Billy Harvey called “Made To Be Good.” I’ve played the demo of that song to a few friends and family and consistently people hold back tears, responding both to the vulnerability and the message of it. “No more goodbyes or sad farewells, the end is not coming soon…” Its the reassurance every child wants to hear, and I think when we listen to songs we’re all children.

Do you ever do any other kinds of writing?

I do come across handwritten long-form writing I did as far back as high school. All my practice writing songs makes me a better writer, speaker and communicator in every area of my life. The best communication in any form is always about the heart of things. Since a song at best is three minutes long, I’ve learned how important it is to not waste time on the unimportant. “Why are we here?” “Why do we care?” is more crucial than ever since there is now more distraction at our fingertips than ever before in human history.

I’m more insecure about writing long form because I like starting things in the middle, not at the beginning. Or starting at the end and working backwards. When I write, I feel more like I’m channeling something than that I’m the actual writer. I hate making outlines unless I’m writing an essay. I prefer to edit after I’ve written, not before. I’ve rarely come across a person who has said, “yes, you’re doing it the right way!” But when it comes to songs, I actually don’t seek out an authority, I just write what I like.

If you could co-write with anyone living or dead, who would it be?

Sam Cooke.

Who do you consider an underrated songwriter?

Neil Young.

What do you consider to be the perfect song, and why?

“Hallelujah” by Leonard Cohen. I hear it as a gospel song in a 3/4 time signature, and there are so many layers to the lyrics in that song. Already by verse one there is a baffled king composing, and the words refer to “the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift,” mirroring the chord changes as they happen. And that’s just at the starting gate.

The words describe scenes of relationships, showing different ways we all have our own “hallelujah.” For some it’s the moment we get stripped down to who we really are, for others its sexual hunger fulfilled, or gaining that love that now is out of reach. I’m just in awe and respect with how he manages in one song to follow a thread, going with both the dark and the light, and uses the gospel and regal word “hallelujah” as a way of saying our moments of glory can be “holy” or “broken.” In some way, we say that when we reach our highest high and our lowest low. It’s good to know when you’ve hit the ceiling, and good to know when you’ve reached the bottom. And since we’re talking about songs, in the final verse of “Hallelujah”, the religious connotation of the word isn’t a church, but “the Lord of Song.”