A Patient but Persistent Spring

When Spring finally comes, it often announces its arrival as we play at the Oak Center in Lake City, Minnesota. Driving along the highway from Minneapolis, I look over to see a slight greening of the rolling prairie. Here the hills are bare and the trees start hugging the limestone bottoms. It's the beginning of the great inland sea of grass that stretches to the Rockies. A buffalo herd is standing near a round bale in a field, feeding. The trees are still barren, not even a bud yet, as we are pretty far north.

It's hard to believe a stubborn, sticking snow came down the night before and Winter kept his grip until pushed back by a patient but persistent Spring. The melt off has choked the streams and the Zumbro River is high and gnawing at her banks. A couple more miles and there, on the curve of the road, sits the old mercantile where we will play tonight. An air generator twirls above it, easily moving in the strong north wind blowing from Saskatchewan. Under scurrying gray clouds, Brian and I pull alongside the building. The walls are peeling, the gray wood peeking out here and there as if the paint itself is being slowly melted away. We take out our cases and head up the wide steps to the second floor. The old basset hound slowly rises off his haunches near the wood burning stove and ambles toward us. He decides that we need to be announced and lets out a sound like a geriatric Chewbacca. Three woofs later and he's satisfied that we're announced. He ambles back to the wood stove and goes to sleep.

Brian and I have been playing every spring for almost a decade now at the Oak Center. Usually we're the last show of the season, which actually means the last show before the farmers get out planting their fields. As we open our cases, Steve, the owner of the mercantile and surrounding organic farm, emerges from his apartment after taking a late afternoon nap. He's a bit stooped from years of hard work but still has a warm smile. We all give each other a hug. There's an unspoken acknowledgment that we're together to witness another turning of the seasons.

Downstairs, a couple of young volunteers are at work in the mercantile. Like something that was kept in a pickle jar from the 1890's, there's a preserved feeling of yesteryear. The glass cases, the high tin ceilings, the worn pine floors. A closer look shows a variety of goods right from the 21st century: CDs, cards, books on peace and current events intermingling with oil lamps and farming implements. On the walls the decades unfold, from old buffalo skulls to 60's protest posters to the latest fliers for the next show.

Steve makes no bones about his liberal leanings. In fact, I think only a liberal-minded person could keep a place like the Oak Center going. It has an almost quixotic air about it as I set up my bass and smell the venison stew cooking on the wood-fired stove downstairs. The belief that the world can change if we do our part. That we can stay connected to the earth. That we can learn to live within our means and without the sprays, dyes, distillates and fertilizers that will soon be applied to the surrounding cornfields. Each year we return and it seems as if we are still in the grasp of Winter waiting for that patient but persistent Spring that eventually will come.

The audience arrives and they too are old friends, people coming slowly up the steep, worn steps to the second floor. Some come a bit slower than they had the year before, but they make it to the top and we sit around for a bit, catching up on each others' lives. A popcorn machine starts popping away and under the gleam of oil lamps there's a simple offering of deviled eggs and other homegrown and homemade food and desserts. They rest on mismatched platters and baskets upon a solid wooden table. Everyone nibbles at the food, talks a bit, and spends a bit of time with each other until Steve walks up on stage. The folks head off to claim their auditorium-style wooden seats. Brian and I head to the "green room," a tiny closet-like space to the left of the stage.

Steve starts talking to the audience. It's leaning a bit past center for most folks, but these are Minnesotans, used to such talk and even if they don't agree, they are too polite to raise an eyebrow. Steve winds things up, introduces us and we start playing.

The room becomes one living creature. The pine floor and walls reverberate with our music and the audience softly stomp their feet in time to the songs, sending out shoots of energy that twine around every note coming back at them. We take a light-hearted approach to our Midwest storms by singing "Twister in A Trailer Park." Everyone is in on the joke. The jigs and reels catch fire as the evening quickly rolls by.

I feel that here, in this second-story, worn down mercantile, a ritual as worthy as any sacred rite happens. We share stories, we pass the evening reaffirming to each other that all is still well, that we can still continue along with our aches and pains. Life doesn't have to be too serious after all. I feel that this evening marks the beginning of Spring for me personally, even if the wind outside is still cold.

We finish the night by playing a couple encores, ending with "Muintir Na Sidhe," the Fairy Folk. As I pack my guitar into its case, I glance up at the wood stage wall. On it are hundreds of names from hundreds of performers who have played over the years. I wonder how their evenings went. I wonder if next year, the buds will be out a bit earlier and will Winter be sent back up North before May arrives? Will we all be able to be back here, waiting to reach out and be embraced by a patient but persistent Spring?

~Marty

An update from Takeshi in Japan

I visited the U.S. during the week of St. Patrick's Day and came back to Japan on March 24th, which means I've been back almost a month since the terrible disaster. As of today the paper reports that 14,133 were killed and another 13,346 are still missing, and the number of evacuees exceeds 130,000. In addition, it seems radiation from the damaged nuclear power plants is not under control yet, and they made a no-entry zone within 20 kilometers of the plant. The conditions are so tragic that I sometimes have a feeling that they are not real.

However, my place is far enough from those power plants and I'm doing all right. Life here is a little different from what it was before the earthquake and we still have aftershocks, but we don't have blackouts these days. The supply of most things is still limited but now I can buy batteries and bottles of water, which were very hard to find or get at stores a month ago. The damage was so extensive that I'm sure rehabilitating the nation's economy will take a long time and much effort.

I'm planning to visit the U.S. again in May. It's for Th' Gatherin', a very unique Scottish festival in WaKeeney, Kansas. If you go to their website (http://www.thgatherin.com/) and check the schedule, you'll find a detailed one with a note saying, "If you've ever been to Th' Gatherin' you know that there is really NO OFFICIAL schedule for this Grand Event." It sounds as though the festival is not organized, and this is true in a sense, but I always get a good feeling from it, something very spiritual. It has a unique atmosphere!

Though I lived in the U.S. from 2001 to 2006, I didn't know about this festival when I was here then, and my first one was in 2007. I've never missed it since then, making this year my fifth anniversary. And this year, Switchback will come with their original Song for Th' Gatherin', which people there have been longing to hear. Fortunately, I had the chance to play and practice the tune several times in March.

After Th' Gatherin', I'm going to Colorado with Marty and Brian, where they will have some shows. I'm looking forward to coming back to the US and seeing Marty and Brian and other friends. I can't wait...

Kanpai!
Takeshi

http://www.waygoodmusic.com/

And We Headed Off to Conjure and Write

The very first Switchback Songwriters Weekend was held at Four Mounds Inn near Dubuque on April 8 - 10. It was a great success and Marty and I found the weekend to be an invigorating and renewing experience. One of my oldest and dearest friends, Scott Momenthy, joined us. Scott and I have been friends since fifth grade. When we were in high school, he was way ahead in the songwriting game by producing his own LP. He was my inspiration. Since that time, Scott has continued to write and perform original songs and has become one of Marty's and my favorite songwriters with songs such as "Glorious Love." We were thrilled when, at the last minute, Scott was able to attend the Songwriters Weekend. When I asked him if he would be willing to share his weekend experience for this month's newsletter, he was happy to oblige.....

My name is Scott Momenthy. I have just returned from Switchback's first Songwriters Weekend. Now back in Chicago's bustling 'burbs, I reflect on a time spent among new friends atop high wooded bluffs of Dubuque, Iowa, overlooking the mighty Mississippi River.

It was tight quarters riding up in the Switchback van packed with musical gear. I wondered how Switchback could travel for years, packed like gumballs in the bottom of a kid's full pockets. Part of the secret quickly became clear as my driver Marty McCormack set me at ease with his easy laugh and homespun tales. Soon ordinary apprehensions faded as we passed by the historic river towns of Galena and Dubuque and through the stone gates of Four Mounds Inn. Cresting a hill, the enchanting mansion emerged from the winding wooded road, back-dropped by a soft uncertain sky which over the course of the weekend would shift blue and clear and at night fill periodically with magnificent stars.

One by one, our weekend companions arrived, found their rooms, and settled in for an evening snack and gentle mix-up. Slowly instruments were taken out, and we circled around the living room's fireplace. As the night settled outside, the room began to glow with songs from within. I have played in many circumstances, and yet I launched into my first song with nerves ajangling and fingers suddenly stupid. I wondered, as I set my guitar down shakily in conclusion, if anyone noticed that I had only an introductory verse. Round we went, each finding a voice. On one familiar tune, a chorus emerged with assistance, which is unique in my experience. An instrumentalist played and was joined vocally by two among us who quickly located the lyrics using our phones. Later in my cozy sleeping quarters, it occurred to me that compassion, courage, and good humor were the primary qualities which would define the nature and make possible the success of this first creative gathering.

From fields, cabins, and beds we gathered in the main dining hall for a wonderful breakfast of chilled fruit, fresh warm breads, and bacon and eggs. Full and at ease, we began our creative pursuit in earnest. Round the table one by one we offered response to a clever interview forwarded by our leader John D. Lamb, who has been conducting songwriting weekends for 16 years in Northern Michigan. Upon receiving our customized song assignments, we headed off to conjure and write. I began my note taking from a chair on a platform wedged into the bluff overlooking the river highway where I watched an entire train from engine to caboose stretching across the base of the bluff on the far bank. I followed the whistle until it faded into the sound of a moth flapping by my ear. A great circling eagle grew from a small spot in the sky, and I experienced a sense of space and perspective not possible back home. With such a fresh and dreamlike vista, imaginings quickly began to loosen and play in my mind. By lunch I was glad again for human voices.

In the afternoon, workshops were presented by Brian, Marty, and John. Brian introduced guitar techniques; Marty shared intimate tales of life on the road. John presented demonstrations of song form. I learned to view the neck of my guitar from a new perspective and play harmonics in familiar chord shapes. At one powerful moment in Brian's guitar presentation, he paused, eyes flashing electric blue, one hand suspended above his guitar, the other hand dangling from his raised arm, and index finger loosely raised as though to point toward something beyond the room walls. Leveling that distant gaze on his close listeners, he began to speak, almost somberly, of commitment. He confessed that, though knowledge and skill are cumulative, every performance remains a challenge. He spoke of incessant preparation to focus, express, and convey the inspiration and musicality of his songs. Unlike paintings and other art objects, songs are not stable. No matter how wonderful in conception, a song must be reformed and born again in the imaginations of each new listener.

I spent the rest of the afternoon sunbathing on the lawn, walking in the woods, and conversing with some of my more disciplined companions who had finished early. The staff was available for consultations. I was hung up on a precious line and melody which were going nowhere. By counseling with Marty, I was able to let it go and pull together my song shards. Later that evening after a wonderful family style supper, torches were lit to form a backyard stage. Sitting low and deep in wood-slatted, flat-armed chairs, with a gentle breeze bending the flames and lifting Marty's long locks, we were treated to an intimate musical performance by our hosts, amplified only by the beauty of Four Mounds Inn.

I won't soon forget our final morning together. We gathered in our many colors, not unlike the multitude of birds which found refuge in the Four Mounds feeders, each with an individual pace, color and call. In turn, we took a place at the head of the cleared breakfast table, bravely presenting our songs. Though performance abilities were fresh, the thoughtfulness of our creations was clear. As I listened to the songs of my friends, it occurred to me wonderfully that songwriting is akin to pioneering, and there is a direction on my compass which points inward where compassion, courage, and good humor are the primary qualities of a successful journey. These I discovered in abundance among new friends at Switchback's first Songwriters Weekend. My heartfelt thanks to the staff at Four Mounds Inn; Jan, our unshakable Switchback volunteer; John D. Lamb for his wisdom, skill, and good nature; and Switchback for an intimate welcome into their rare and valuable musical lives.

~ Scott Momenthy

A note from Brian and Marty: The Switchback Songwriters Weekend will be held again next April. Watch our website and newsletter for details! A big thank you to Scott for writing about this year's weekend.

http://www.waygoodmusic.com/

All About the Song

Brian and I just came back from a road trip that took us to the Hey Hey Club in Columbus. Our Ohio fans are just fantastic! They brought out a lot of new folks to catch our show and really showered us with support and enthusiasm. We also had fans there who had traveled from Virginia, Wisconsin, and New York, which is always an honor. Soupbone came up from Cincinnati along with his wife Monica. Both Soup and Monica are blind, and they always manage to make the trek with no problem while the rest of us are counting on our GPS systems. Their arrival is a sign that the show is going to be a wild one. Soupbone once again brought the house down by playing brushes on an old whiskey barrel right at the foot of the stage. We stuck a microphone into the side of the barrel, and it was amazing to hear a full trap sound coming from a barrel under Soup's skillful hands.

One fan saw our flier for the Songwriters Weekend that is taking place next month. "But I don't write songs," she said. "I shouldn't go." "I bet you do," I replied, "but you just aren't aware of the songs you've written. You definitely should come to the weekend."

It would be wonderful if everyone could make it to the Songwriters Weekend. Why? My belief is that we all write songs. Each of us has some sort of soundtrack running through our minds, a personal radio station that plays some familiar songs, but surprisingly a lot of original material too. Being a songwriter is just taking those songs to the next level and perhaps preparing them to be shared with the world. It is a special opportunity to be able to spend time with fellow songwriters, even those who don't realize that's what they already are.

Why is it so important? Songs, more than poetry, books, movies or stories, are all about our daily, personal lives. They resonate with what we are doing, how we are feeling, and how we relate to each other. Sure, you can get 50 people in a room to read together from a book, or perhaps recite a poem. But 50 people sharing a song, singing a song, is a true connection, something that we don't have with Facebook or Twitter.

Songs can be funny to help lighten a situation. Songs can inspire people to great achievements. They can also correct injustices. In ancient Ireland, the bard who was slighted by a chieftain would sit outside the keep and compose a scathing song about the slight he endured. So powerful were the words that the people could lose trust in the chieftain. Such a humiliation was so feared that any chief would treat a traveling musician with great respect. The songs of the civil rights movement are a great example of the power of music to change the world.

When I was about five years old, I wrote my first song, Tallcorn Moose. I had been to Wyoming and had seen a moose and immediately fell in love with the animal. I created a story about a moose that was "faster than a motorcycle, plane, train, car, bus, or rocket." I would go around my house singing this for my family. Perhaps this is why my brothers staked me out in the backyard spread-eagled with croquet wickets. Thank God my songwriting has improved a bit.

I also wrote songs to show how I was feeling. When we moved to Woodstock and I hit my awkward teens, I would make up horrible love songs and sing them underneath an oak tree for a herd of cows that bordered our farm. They weren't that impressed. Thank God my audience has changed, too.

Songs can help heal. When Brian and I travel to Alzheimer units and play our songs for the residents, even the person hardest to reach smiles and breaks into song, especially when we play an old number that might jog a childhood memory. For a moment, sunshine comes through the clouds and that lost person is found.

Songs can connect generations and preserve history. It is amazing how Irish ballads written centuries ago are still played with as much passion as when they were first introduced. One of the most exciting parts of playing Celtic music is being connected to an ancient lineage where people wrote songs to express themselves. The songwriter is long gone, but the song remains and still resonates. That is powerful magic.

But the most important part of songs is the transcendent ability they have to unite on a level that is beyond our daily lives. It is a shared sense of being in the moment with each other, a truly spiritual quality. After 9/11 when the House of Representatives gathered out on the stairs of the Capitol, they sang "God Bless America," a simple song that truly touched the range of emotions that were experienced that day. Perhaps we need them to sing every day?

Getting in touch with your songwriter can be a deeply satisfying experience. You are exploring the essence of who you are and how you see the world. Hearing it in song, even if sung to yourself, is satisfying to the soul. The reward is that much sweeter when it is acknowledged by others. As I said to the audience at the Hey Hey, "Without you here, this show would have been---boring."

So yes, I am encouraging you all to come join us for the Songwriter's Weekend. I also am extremely humbled when people can relate to my songs. Even Tallcorn Moose.

~Marty

Songwriters Weekend April 8-10, 2011

http://www.waygoodmusic.com/

School of Rock

A few weeks ago, my wife Annie asked me to go with her to see her friend Melissa’s daughter, Morgana, perform in the School of Rock tribute to Queen.

“What?” I said.

“You know, ‘School of Rock,’ like the movie,” she answered.

I did see the movie starring Jack Black. For those of you who didn’t, it’s about a down and out rock musician who lies his way into becoming a substitute teacher and the only thing he manages is to teach to his students is rock n’ roll. The parents find out, are incensed, come out to see their kids play at a battle of the bands and....wait...isn’t this the plot to “The Music Man”? Oh well, out of this movie has now come The School of Rock Chicago.

I see. My wife, who has worshipped at the altar of Queen and Brian May in particular since she was a kid, wanted me to see a bunch of grade-schoolers performing rock opera? Was she serious? Indeed she was, and so, here I was on a Sunday afternoon, driving down to Reggie’s Rock Club to see a most unusual tribute to Queen.

I walked in the club as the band was playing their first number. By band, I mean a rotating group of about 20 kids. Several of the boys were decked out in Freddy Mercury gear, sporting slicked back hair, sleeveless white t-shirts and yes, mustaches. At the front of the stage were groupies, grade-school kids who would high five the musicians and scream at the end of the song. Behind the groupies were the real groupies, the parents who would also scream at the end of the song. I was surrounded by them, all armed with cameras and cell phones, recording each song and jostling for a good angle. Some of the moms seemed smaller than the kids and I wondered if there was a height requirement to have your kid in this school.

These parents were mostly in their 40s with the occasional bewildered grandmother hanging off on the side of the club, looking morose. The moms and dads were happily singing along to “We are the Champions” and “Bohemian Rhapsody” while their kids rocked out on stage. It was something to see some of the parents partying down, drinking beer and acting like it was 1982 all over again. And like true club patrons, they proceeded to talk excitedly about their kids while their kids were on stage performing. So in a way, it was a very real club experience for these kids as anyone who has been in a club knows that a lot of the club noise is not from stage, but from the audience talking. But all in all, there was an honest vibe to the parents. I sensed that the majority were not seeking glory for their kid, rather a great experience. So I took a deep breath, relaxed and enjoyed the show.

Like the movie, each of these kids had some talent. Checking out the school’s website, each student gets four 45-minute lessons on the instrument of his or her choice, as well as group lessons, jams, rehearsals and of course the concert. All in all, 16 hours a month for $300. And what about theory and that stuff? Well, the school kind of dances around it, saying “Our teachers introduce music theory in the context of other learnings (sic) and we hold group classes to cover music theory concepts such as chord construction, harmony, rhythm figures and so on.” But come on, like the movie, the school is here to get kids to rock! No garage band kid ever cracked a book on theory until much later in the game.

And these kids did rock! I was extremely impressed by some of the talent I saw taking place on stage. Two drummers were exceptional in my book, a blond-haired girl wearing a cape, who did a great solo during “Somebody to Love”, and a little African-American boy who sat at the drums and played his heart out on “We Will Rock You.” The lead vocalist for the boys was a curly headed kid who dressed the part of a rocker, complete with leather pants, no shirt, a leather jacket, tie and some sort of checkered police cap. He nailed “Love of My Life.” Several girls were natural talents vocally as well as on keyboards. The little boy (a dead ringer for DJ on “Roseanne”), who played a bicycle bell during, what else, “Bicycle Race” turned out to be a great bass player. And our friend Morgana did a great job on her solo for that same song, mugging expertly and dramatically waving her arms, commanding a huge round of applause from the audience. Not bad for a kid of 10.

Even the sound man was dead on. I had to give him credit as usually there were four guitarists, one bassist, one drummer, one lead vocalist, six backup vocalists hovering around a mic and even the kid holding a bicycle bell. Sometimes a crack of feedback would rip through, but the sound man got it quickly under control.

What touched me the most was that the people who were running the school were obviously not looking for the next American Idol. There was a great deal of fun and cooperation with the kids. There were mistakes made of course, but who doesn’t shank a chord when rocking? These kids were learning instruments, they were on stage and for gaw-sakes they were doing some decent renditions of the band Queen! Brian May would have loved that they delved into some obscure material like “Liar” and “Is This the World We Created?” I felt like I was in some school play about a band, but here we were in a real club and parents were drinking beer in front of their jammin’ kids on stage. Pretty unreal. However, there was no acting in the way the kids approached their music. They were most serious. Kudos to the teachers.

Our band camps when I was a kid consisted of blowing the trumpet to “God Bless America” and some other obscure piece that I can hardly remember today. But it was those sorts of band kids that got the movie “School of Rock” going. Would I have enjoyed being in a School of Rock? You bet. Did I enjoy seeing these kids enjoy themselves? You bet. Did I enjoy the parents rocking out? Absolutely. Does this replace the group of kids huddled in a garage listening to albums and practicing on their own? No way. But perhaps, once these kids “graduate,” they can start those bands and continue down the road as musicians. Maybe this will be their one shot at rock and some of these kids will get it out of their system. All the better than to spend years to find out you really never wanted to be a musician. But for those kids who persevere and become true independent musicians? I hope these kids will stare the business mogul in the eyes and mutter Dewey’s famous quote from the movie: “I don’t wanna hang out with a bunch of wannabe corporate sellouts. I’m gonna form my own band and we’re gonna start a revolution, OK? And you’re gonna be a funny little footnote on my epic ass!”

We will, we will rock you.

Marty McCormack
Switchback
www.WayGoodMusic.com

Switchback's new additions!

We would like to introduce you to the musicians who sometimes accompany Switchback on the road:  Nick Hirka on drums and ukulele and Paul Russell on violin and guitar. You may have been fortunate enough to hear them play along with Switchback at some of our recent shows.

Nick Hirka is a drummer from Des Plaines, Illinois. He met Brian and Marty quite fatefully at a church picnic/anniversary celebration in nearby Rosemont.  Nick got the call, heard that "an Irish duo" was headed in to write and perform the Mass, and, interested, headed over for their first meeting and rehearsal. Switchback and Nick would meet again to play the outdoor Mass on a beautiful summer day, and after sitting in for a few post-Mass original numbers, Marty and Brian invited Nick to the Haybarn Rendezvous in Iowa that coming weekend. It took just that one weekend at the Natural Gait for Nick to be sold...

Nick told us:

...I was in. That festival changed my musical outlook. I'd been drumming seriously since I was 12 or so. I struggled the romantic struggle of a high school musician. I played in several bands after graduating, played all Chicago's venues...Then suddenly, I'm in a candlelit cave, legs sore from a forest-path load-in, playing Celtic songs. It was calm. Eclectic. Free. I felt at home.

I work a day job as a tutor, in perpetual search of high school English teaching jobs. Students I tutor think I'm cool because I cancel sessions to travel to gigs. Parents dislike me for the same reason. I'm a jack of many trades, master of drums. I can get by playing piano, and I play bass guitar fairly well. I picked up the ukulele last summer and have somewhat vigorously taken to it - Switchback has worked it in to the set at points. I have a 5-string banjo being built for me by a luthier in Arizona. I draw pretty well. (With ink.  I'm not a 'slinger.)

I've already met a tremendous number of wonderful people while traveling with Switchback, and I've already seen some wonderful places with them. I've started documenting, in loose diary form, places I've played, something I hadn't done until I started playing with Marty and Brian. I look forward to more shows, always - this band is something I've started into and am engrossed in. I have trouble wrapping up projects, trips, and ventures. And written pieces!

Paul Russell, on top of being a gifted musician, an adventurer, and a blacksmith, happens to have known Brian FitzGerald all of his life since he is Brian's sister Sheila's son and thus Brian's nephew.  Paul provided the beautiful violin accompaniment on our Ghosts of the River Folk album.  How did Paul get into music?

Paul told us:

On a quiet evening I took a walk with my father to a shop on Roosevelt Road.  When we got back home, I started scratching away on my first violin.  I was five years old.  Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, Go Tell Aunt Rhody, and Hot Cross Buns were among my first accomplishments, and before long I was playing concertos in D flat major and mazurkas in B flat minor.  I had a good go with classical music into high school, but after discovering improvisational music, a new path was found.  I attended Columbia College in Chicago for a year and a half, majoring in music composition.  Like classical music, it was a good experience, but something was not fitting.  You can find me now on the day to day at Lawndale Forge and Tool Works where I work for my Dad and Uncle, who worked for their Dad, who worked for his Dad, and on and on.  My Great-grandpa made horseshoes and shoed horses in Chicago.  I plan to continue playing music as long as I've got fingers on my hands and brains in my head!

One of Switchback's most recent tours with Nick and Paul included Switchback's New Year's Eve performance in Ontario. Imagine being in Canada for the first time and not freezing your behind off! Had they been with Switchback on the previous year's tour, they would have had the normal 20 below experience. When asked about their time in Canada over the New Year's holiday, here is what Paul and Nick had to say:

Paul told us:

'Twas the best of times, 'twas the worst of times.  Most importantly it was New Year's in Canada.  Moose and partridge were eaten, scotch was drunk, music was played, and sap was tapped from the island maples for premium maple syrup.  In short, people were hospitable and gracious.  In long...well, the drive was pretty long!  Just before leaving Chicago, I had the front ball joints replaced on my car because they were about to pop out at the next big pothole. When the car started bouncing and swaying back and forth during the first half of the drive, I figured the mechanic (who happened to be Nick's dad) had messed up.  Then Nick and I heard a flapping sound, and the right rear tire blew out at 70 mph.  We had a spare though and were back on course in no time.  So it wasn't the mechanic's fault after all and the car drove fine for the rest of the time and to this day.  Yes sir, 'twas the best of times, 'twas the worst of times, it was New Year's.

Nick added: 

O Canada!

That cold and distant land!

(True, but not for us...'twas 45, just grand...)

With glowing hearts we see thine lights

The Clansman, finally!

Tucked in, inside,

O Can-I-sleep while moose cuts wait for me?

God, let me drum well on New Year's Eve

O Will-I-starve while partridge waits for me?

O Canada! It's been too warm indeed.

O Canada!

Where pines and maples grow

Bears rest outside, during our five hour show

As midnight falls, the temp it drops

But indoors faces glow!

Folk of the isle,

O Can-ya-yell, "It's New Year's on St. Joe!"

Those who I met were "maple syrup" sweet

O Can-I-stay with Colonel's family... if

SO, Canada, you'll see returns of me.

Please join us in welcoming Paul and Nick, our newest members of the Switchback team!  The next time you are out and see them with us, please come up, introduce yourselves, and help make them feel like part of our WayGood World.

http://www.waygoodmusic.com/

Save the Last Dance

New Year's brought about what has become an annual trek up to Michigan and Ontario, which we call the Northern Lights Tour. Now, it's a rare occasion when either Brian's or my wife will go along for the ride, but my wife Annie decided to travel the nine hours it takes from Chicago to northern Ontario. I was glad, too, because the Canadians were beginning to think that Annie was a figment of my imagination.

Annie is no stranger to Switchback road trips. When we first met, about 10 years ago, she used to accompany us on lots of road trips. The truth is, going out to a gig usually means getting into the already crammed and questionably hygienic minivan ("Smells like bachelors in here," she used to say), traveling for hours on the road while we practice our vocal exercises, and arriving at the gig to help us unload equipment and watch us work. With 200 shows a year, that can put a dent in one's personal life. But, enticed by the chance to head up to Canada, Annie said yes. Then she asked me if I would dance at least one dance with her on New Year's Eve. "Sure," I said, "No problem." The fact was, it was going to be a challenge. Playing in the band means that I would have to figure a way to get someone to play bass while I dance with Annie. How was I going to figure that out?

Brian and I headed up north first, so Annie didn't have to ride this time in the "bachelor van." We had some great Michigan shows, including a sold-out performance to benefit the Historic Elk Rapids Town Hall. Stephanie O'Dell, a great singer and friend of the band, joined us onstage to sing several holiday songs, including "I'll Be Home for Christmas," which she dedicated to her Navy boyfriend, Brent. It was a tender moment in the show and everyone got a bit misty-eyed.

After another successful concert in Grayling, MI to benefit the local Rotary Club, we headed over the Mackinac Bridge and into the U.P. Finally, it was time to cross the vaunted US-Canadian border. At the border, the Canadian customs guy was friendly-like. "Where are you going?" he asked.

We have learned that to cross easily you don't say, "I am going to see my friends and stay at their cottage on St. Joseph's Island." No, you have to lean slightly out the window, nod your head a bit, and say, "I'm headin' to my friend's camp on St. Joe." If you have a St. Joe cap, that helps even more. Of course, I didn't have my cap on and my long hair always gets a question or two.

"Where did you meet these friends?" he asked, leaning a bit toward me, "At a terrorist convention?" I think he was trying to throw me off a bit. He was successful.

"Um, no, uh, they're fans," I stammered. Should have put the hair in a ponytail.

"And why would anyone live in Iowa?" he asked, looking at our Iowa plates.

That one stopped me for a second. "Uh, he lives in Iowa," I said and pointed at Brian, "And someone has to live there, sir?"

"Go ahead," he said, handing me our passports and waving us out of his life.

Annie came up that night from Chicago with our fan club president Chris Pardee. Of course they had no problem at all crossing the border.

By the time they arrived, we were already set up at Central United Church for the big holiday concert. Another benefit, this concert would help finance a new roof for the church. Central United is a beautiful building. One striking feature is that it boasts one of the largest pipe organs in Canada. The organ, built in Holland, is impressive, with pipes reaching for the ceiling and bristling outwards toward the congregation like a battleship swinging all its guns to port, impressive and beautiful. The real beauty of it was the life that came out of it when Paul Dingle, the musical director, proceeded to play. Meeting Paul was like meeting a brother. He instantly understood what we were trying to do with our music and it was as if he had been part of the band for years.

A great number of our Canadian fans had arrived from different parts of the province. Over four hundred people packed into the church. And there were a lot of folks who had never seen us before. We brought Paul up to the organ to play "Love Won't Run Away" and I got chills as the organ created the deep mood of a dark Irish sea. The audience was thrilled, including some folks who were from County Mayo, Ireland. I introduced Annie to the audience and she smiled and waved with some polite embarrassment. It was nice to finally have our Canadian friends meet her.

New Year's Eve arrived along with the rest of the full band, Paul Russell on fiddle and mandolin and Nick Hirka on percussion. The Colonel came in with his recording equipment and we recorded a new song, "The Measure of the Master," for a sound check. Things were looking good. It was time to head back to our rooms to get ready for the evening. Annie put on a beautiful Chinese silk gown. "You look great," I said.

And like the other concerts, we had a great turnout for the event, another sold out evening. Folks were treated to prime rib, champagne, and of course music. I realized we were surrounded by a wonderful mix of Canadian and American fans who came up to see us play. And for me, the greatest gift was that my wife was there to share the evening with me.

We started our first set at 8 p.m. and proceeded to play as the party horns and hats were passed out in anticipation of 2011. I looked over at Annie and mentally made a note that I would have to pick a time to get out and dance with my wife.

Soon it was 11 p.m. I was getting nervous about how I was going to be able to dance with Annie. I had hit a snag. It seemed impossible to figure out how to pull it off. All the slow songs were sung by me. Perhaps if I could get another band member to take the bass? We were in the middle of the set and I turned to Paul Russell. "Can you play the bass?" I asked. "What?" he asked. At that moment, Brian's guitar went out, leaving Paul holding the melody on the violin. Exasperated, Brian called for a break, we got off the stage, and I sat next to Annie. I could see Fitz fuming on the stage, pulling cables and trying to figure out what had happened to his guitar. It turned out to be one cable that decided not to live to see the New Year. He got it fixed and we took to the stage.

Soon, Neil Caughill, our official St. Joe timekeeper, came up to the stage and showed that it was five minutes to midnight...just one more song in 2010. It was now or never to keep my promise. So, I jumped down from the stage, bass and all, and proceeded to "dance" with Annie -- that is, play my bass and hop around while she put her arms around my neck with the guitar making a wide gap between us -- as we played "Jesse Taylor's Nightmare." Brian jumped from the stage as well and soon everyone in the hall was on the floor dancing. Annie shook her head at me and smiled. It wasn't exactly what either of us had in mind for the last dance of the year, certainly not the romantic slow number that I had envisioned.

Our success in Switchback comes from a great deal of support (and sacrifice) from friends and family. They have helped us through every twist and turn on the trail. Our wives, especially, have been very patient and committed to our dream of being independent musicians. They have celebrated our successes and bolstered our confidence during the low times. It is difficult when we are apart, and sometimes the best we have to offer them is an awkward last minute dance when we are together. But awkward or not, it's a great gift to be able to share your passion with someone who believes in you and sees you for who you are. I can't ask for anything more when I am attempting to dance with my wife with a big acoustic bass between us and she is willing to put her arms around me, smile, and dance the last dance of the year with me.

Happy New Year,
Marty

Write on about songwriting!

Switchback is offering its first songwriters weekend to take place April 8-10 at Four Mounds Inn, Dubuque, Iowa. The spring seminar will feature noted songwriter and leader of Lamb's Retreat Songwriting Weekends, John Lamb.

"So far the biggest question we have received is whether one has to be a songwriter to attend," says Marty. "Not at all! The main reason for the weekend is to offer a place where people can learn about songwriting and hone their songwriting skills. So we are hoping to get all ages and all skills from novice to professional."

Brian and Marty are very excited about John Lamb as their first guest songwriter. Lamb has been a professional musician for over 25 years. His retreats have brought in some of the most talented songwriters on the music scene today and allowed them to work one on one with people. At the same time, these professionals are also given the challenge to write a song over the weekend. Everyone collaborates and the result is a great time with an emphasis on enjoyment.

"John has made his weekends fun," says Brian. "He assigns each person a topic that he creates for the weekend. From there, the songwriter has to work in groups, with one of the songwriters and of course on their own to create their work. If they like, then it is played for everyone toward the end of the weekend. It's a no pressure, laid back situation which has everyone learning something about songwriting. We brought him to our weekend to make sure that we have the same sort of good time."

The Four Mounds Inn as a setting will certainly help with any necessary inspiration. Situated on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River, it is a Dubuque Landmark Site, is listed on the National Register of Historic Places and is a Silos and Smokestacks National Heritage Area affiliate site. The estate consists of nearly 60 acres of bluffs and boasts cultured grounds, historic gardens, woodlands, prairie and rare oak savanna. The site is focused around the historic Grey House, a 1908 Arts & Crafts styled mansion designed by the Chicago architect Lawrence Buck. The cultured grounds were planned out by Chicago landscape architect A. Phelps Wyman.

The staff will offer fantastic prepared meals and accommodations are available at the historic Inn grounds for those outside of the Dubuque area.

"We hope to get about 20 people to sign up as well as some sponsors so that we can make this an annual event," says Marty. "There isn't a songwriting opportunity such as this in central Midwest. We would love to draw people to write at a wonderful place during a wonderful time of the year."

Information and reservations at http://www.waygoodmusic.com/

Larry Weir, Wish You Were Here

Larry would have loved the latest news from Washington, I think. When I think of independent community radio, I think of Larry Weir. He was a beloved DJ and driving force behind KDHX radio in St. Louis, arguably one of the powerhouses of independent community radio in the Midwest. About a year ago, Larry slipped on ice and suffered a traumatic brain injury that resulted in his death. With his passing the world lost a fantastic advocate for community radio, which is the lifeblood of original, independent music and hopefully soon to be the great leveler of the commercial radio industry.

I am an independent musician and so yes, I am biased in favor of good music that challenges the monolithic music industry. I have a great deal of admiration for community radio all over the world. It has been community-based radio that has helped bring my band to the attention of new fans everywhere. Midwest Radio in County Mayo, Ireland; WEVL in Memphis, and Folkland radio in Germany have had DJs who have dedicated their lives to the pursuit of what I would call “real people music.” Being an independent musician in the great music town of Chicago, I am embarrassed to say we don’t have an equivalent outlet for the variety of musical programming as KDHX. Our closest approximation of it is WDCB, a 5000 watt station in Glen Ellyn that has a broadcast signal which can’t reach the entire city. In comparison, KDHX is a 42,000 watt station. I was happy to find out that WNUR, the Northwestern University station, has a 7200 watt range and one of the most powerful transmitters of any college in the country. Admittedly, I don’t know too much about what is played on WNUR. The only person in commercial radio who seems to care a bit about independent music is Richard Milne, who is given a paltry 30 minutes on Sundays on CBS-owned WXRT to play his show “The Local Anesthetic.” Nevertheless, kudos for the 30 minutes!

WBEZ, our NPR station, gave up on music just as I was starting to get in the business. For a brief moment in time, WABT attempted to showcase Chicago music, but financially it couldn’t keep going. My wife bypasses Chicago stations completely and opts for KCRW on the net to listen to new music.

As I said, Chicago is a great music town. It started country music with its “Barn Dance” show on WLS. It was the town that created the blues that influenced the Rolling Stones. And it is home to a plethora of independent artists ranging from Wilco to Nicholas Tremulis to bands like the Yellowhammers. Yet it does not have one radio voice that represents our current musical diversity. Perhaps that has something to do with Chicago being known as the “City of Neighborhoods.”

That said, there is hope for Chicago and other communities. Congress finally passed the Community Radio Act at the end of last year. In layman’s terms this means that we can have 100 watt stations that can serve various communities with independent political and musical thought. It doesn’t help our situation much in Chicago as far as having one city-wide station. I did find out that even a 100 watt station on a 150 foot high mast can broadcast 50 miles. That could eventually help us here in the Windy City where we are known for some tall buildings which could support such a mast.

How that will actually work is better left to the experts, but there are a couple of golden opportunities here. The most important one is that neighborhoods and communities can support their independent artists and cultivate appreciative listeners. And in turn, indie artists and music fans can be a force in their communities. By streaming on the Internet, it is possible for a small station to garner a large following outside its community. The independent artist community and its fans will have that many more stations to reach out to as well.

If we do see a surge in the number of Low Power FM Stations, that will be an opportunity for musicians to get their music heard, both recorded and live. It will be the closest thing to the day when a musician would travel from station to station to showcase original music. It will also be a chance for music fans to be introduced to music they would not hear otherwise.

As a musician, I can say from experience that being heard and getting played and playing live are necessary for the growth of my career. It was crucial for Switchback to start out playing community and public stations. They provided the outlet for us to be heard. Since we never had the backing of a major label, this and the Internet would be the only media venues available to us.

The Internet didn’t really start “happening” for music until the 90’s. For youngsters that might bring about a yawn, but I can remember giving out my mailing address in America on Irish radio so people could buy our cassettes. A lot has changed quickly.

So what should people do? First, visit the Future of Music Coalition at http://futureofmusic.org/research and get acquainted with what can be done to help keep independent music alive. These people are working to make sure independent musicians keep making music for the masses to hear. Second, support your existing community radio stations, either by donating (which they love and need) or simply sporting their stickers on your car. Or both. I proudly carry KDHX on my bass guitar case.

My guess is that Larry would have loved the passing of the Community Radio Act. If only he could have been around to see this day when the chance of having community radio stations across the country was finally sanctioned by the government. I think he would have been happy to see communities creating low power stations that can enable more artists to create and provide more music for fans to appreciate those artists. And not only music, but drama, civic action, and neighborhood news can be presented as well! It took a long time, but it has finally arrived. Will it correct the past two decades of mainstream radio mismanagement? It’s up to the people to decide.

Martin McCormack
Switchback

http://www.waygoodmusic.com/

Concert Review: Switchback fills Town Hall with holiday spirit

It’s amazing how much sound can come from two guys with guitars, using no percussion other than foot-stomping and guitar-slapping. No electronic mumbo-jumbo like beat boxes or pre-recorded back-up music was present, which is a welcome treat and a tribute to tradition.

Martin McCormack and Brian FitzGerald have been performing together for a long time, and it shows. Their camaraderie is obvious and their timing, accompaniments and harmonies are impeccable. Also impressive is their sense of mixing up the selection and tempo of the songs they play—a wonderful mix of ballads, rabble-rousing, original and traditional.

I saw them perform in Elk Rapids, Michigan December 28, 2010 (to a full house), a benefit concert for restoration of the venue, the historic town hall. Marty told the audience that he and Brian have an affinity for tradition, which explains some of the music that Switchback performs, but also is the reason they often play in old buildings with a history and, hopefully, a future.

At this particular concert, they threw in a lot of Christmas favorites and sing-a-longs. It was a few days past Christmas, but there was still plenty of Holiday spirit in the crowd, which was remarkably in tune. Sometimes when a band asks the audience to sing, it is fun, but audibly grating. Not the case here. It almost sounded like a practiced choir. Switchback does a great job of including the audience in their musical magic.

I was with my wife and three of my grandchildren (7-8-year-olds). Granddaughter Jenna showed a knack for music reviewing when she noted how amazed she was that Brian could play so many different instruments. She wondered why they played some songs with no words. So that night she learned a new word: instrumental.

The prowess of Brian on guitars and mandolin made my fingers hurt just watching him, and prompted grandson Max to ask “how does he strum so fast?” He also noted that Marty can really kick his legs up high.

Local up-and-comer Stephanie O’Dell joined Switchback at various times on stage, and she was superb. She got understandably emotional when she pointed out her significant other in the audience, who was home for the holidays from the Navy.

Switchback and Stephanie made this more than a concert. It was a true community gathering.

–by Don Weeks, Elk Rapids, Michigan, with help from Jenna & Max
photo by Jim Sundberg. Originally posted on Elk Rapids Live 12-30-10

http://www.waygoodmusic.com/