Directed by Bruce Dickson

Identity Crisis
Produced By Shelby Lynne
Capitol Records
Released September 16, 2003

Redemption. Dignity. Salvation. Atonement.

All I could think about was how to get back what I had destroyed. It’s hard to describe to you what it feels like knowing you will never again retrieve the respect you earned by frivolous action. The boiling disrespect for self was the most battering of all living day and night with so much regret, searching for that somebody I already knew but had lost along the way. Pen to paper. Ice in a glass. Stoned phone calls in search of a voice with an answer. Picking up pieces I dropped with every step I took, wandering around inside myself trying not to hear the words that felt like a million paper cuts. I was sore from thinking. My brain hurt so bad it outweighed the heart I own inside beating me up like a boxer.

I bought the makings of an analog studio. Spent my money on a 24 track Studer tape machine, a couple of really good mics, and enough gear and 2-inch tape to make a record. I had decided I would lock away in my house and learn how to operate the gear by myself, take my time and make a record. I had no time table, no constraints, no input and no idea how to run this equipment. But I had such good friends who were gear-heads who didn’t hate me for calling them at 2 in the morning on drunken tirades wondering why what I recorded wouldn’t playback. So I learned from try, try again, and remembered what I had learned from other genius ones I had worked with, in the past. I realized the importance of the room in which to record, mic placement, what a patch bay is, how to use it. The times I erased good moments are staggering. I made so many mistakes.

Sometimes I would throw my hands up and just put my head down and cry, dogs at my side always. I don’t know why I tried to redeem myself. I really didn’t need to do that to prove anything to anybody, just to myself I guess. In the end, when we realize why we search for salvation it’s not for GOD. Searching for salvation is for soothing our sinful selves.

I looked at the lonely desert moon and listened to the coyotes’ howl. I walked into the night and heard silence and sweet breathing from loyal dogs at my feet. I looked into their eyes and knew the knowing they possessed would always be more than my limitless despair provided me. I was alone, lonely and dark. I welcomed my ghosts to walk with me with a motive. I wanted to steal their inspiration and freedom for my compositions, thoughts, history, memory, past. I learned by calling the ghosts they would really appear. And once they did they stayed with me.

I wrote song after song. I sat in front of my mixer and recorded myself on my tape machine. I figured out how to work my equipment and how to write again on my own without a co-writer. I wrote about the present and the past and the gone and the future.

I slept with my tape machine. I stayed up for many nights in a row. I worried. I wasted. I had regret. I hated myself.

For 6 months I wrote and recorded, gathered my songs, thoughts, cut off my hair and ventured to Los Angeles with my tapes. I met Bruce Robb who was a brother of three who owned classic world-famous Cherokee Studios. I was ready to take my recordings to a real studio so I could finish the songs. I had no plan what to do with them but I knew they were good. It was during this time I met with the guys at Capitol Records. They were interested in hearing something new from me, and they listened, loved it, wanted to sign me. They wanted to sign me and the songs I had written but they wanted me to go back into the studio with them producing and recut them all. I said no. I liked the organic feel of what I was creating and stood my ground. They signed me anyway, to a three-album deal in hopes of making another record after this one, something they could, “sell”.

As a recording artist who lives and dies making records, the only way really to make a living is on the road. When you make records like I make them, there really is no big outlet. I have had the privilege of relying on people who like what I do, word of mouth, good press most of the time, and determination.

I was able to capture some of the respect I lost on that last record with Identity Crisis. I all but got on my knees to the press to help me reel back in the whale of shame I brought to myself by making terrible music decisions the last time. It was like starting over.

There are songs on the album that people still ask for in shows…TEN ROCKS, TELEPHONE, IF I WERE SMART.

Good songs I wrote with nothing to lose. And with everything to win back.

PRODUCT UNAVAILABLE AT THIS TIME

Directed by Bruce Dickson

Identity Crisis
Produced By Shelby Lynne
Capitol Records
Released: September 16, 2003

Redemption. Dignity. Salvation. Atonement.

All I could think about was how to get back what I had destroyed. It’s hard to describe to you what it feels like knowing you will never again retrieve the respect you earned by frivolous action. The boiling disrespect for self was the most battering of all living day and night with so much regret, searching for that somebody I already knew but had lost along the way. Pen to paper. Ice in a glass. Stoned phone calls in search of a voice with an answer. Picking up pieces I dropped with every step I took, wandering around inside myself trying not to hear the words that felt like a million paper cuts. I was sore from thinking. My brain hurt so bad it outweighed the heart I own inside beating me up like a boxer.

I bought the makings of an analog studio. Spent my money on a 24 track Studer tape machine, a couple of really good mics, and enough gear and 2-inch tape to make a record. I had decided I would lock away in my house and learn how to operate the gear by myself, take my time and make a record. I had no time table, no constraints, no input and no idea how to run this equipment. But I had such good friends who were gear-heads who didn’t hate me for calling them at 2 in the morning on drunken tirades wondering why what I recorded wouldn’t playback. So I learned from try, try again, and remembered what I had learned from other genius ones I had worked with, in the past. I realized the importance of the room in which to record, mic placement, what a patch bay is, how to use it. The times I erased good moments are staggering. I made so many mistakes.

Sometimes I would throw my hands up and just put my head down and cry, dogs at my side always. I don’t know why I tried to redeem myself. I really didn’t need to do that to prove anything to anybody, just to myself I guess. In the end, when we realize why we search for salvation it’s not for GOD. Searching for salvation is for soothing our sinful selves.

I looked at the lonely desert moon and listened to the coyotes’ howl. I walked into the night and heard silence and sweet breathing from loyal dogs at my feet. I looked into their eyes and knew the knowing they possessed would always be more than my limitless despair provided me. I was alone, lonely and dark. I welcomed my ghosts to walk with me with a motive. I wanted to steal their inspiration and freedom for my compositions, thoughts, history, memory, past. I learned by calling the ghosts they would really appear. And once they did they stayed with me.

I wrote song after song. I sat in front of my mixer and recorded myself on my tape machine. I figured out how to work my equipment and how to write again on my own without a co-writer. I wrote about the present and the past and the gone and the future.

I slept with my tape machine. I stayed up for many nights in a row. I worried. I wasted. I had regret. I hated myself.

For 6 months I wrote and recorded, gathered my songs, thoughts, cut off my hair and ventured to Los Angeles with my tapes. I met Bruce Robb who was a brother of three who owned classic world-famous Cherokee Studios. I was ready to take my recordings to a real studio so I could finish the songs. I had no plan what to do with them but I knew they were good. It was during this time I met with the guys at Capitol Records. They were interested in hearing something new from me, and they listened, loved it, wanted to sign me. They wanted to sign me and the songs I had written but they wanted me to go back into the studio with them producing and recut them all. I said no. I liked the organic feel of what I was creating and stood my ground. They signed me anyway, to a three-album deal in hopes of making another record after this one, something they could, “sell”.

As a recording artist who lives and dies making records, the only way really to make a living is on the road. When you make records like I make them, there really is no big outlet. I have had the privilege of relying on people who like what I do, word of mouth, good press most of the time, and determination.

I was able to capture some of the respect I lost on that last record with Identity Crisis. I all but got on my knees to the press to help me reel back in the whale of shame I brought to myself by making terrible music decisions the last time. It was like starting over.

There are songs on the album that people still ask for in shows…TEN ROCKS, TELEPHONE, IF I WERE SMART.

Good songs I wrote with nothing to lose. And with everything to win back.

PRODUCT UNAVAILABLE

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