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For the third re-release of old material, we’re going to turn to Stars Turn Me On, the project with my dear friend and guitarist Justin Caucutt. The song is the eponymous song “Stars Turn Me On,” from the album Goldrush in 2012.
I met Justin old-school, through Craigslist. I had just finished my first album Conversation with Francis Bakin in 2008. Zepparella was working, and I had this songwriting project, and it seemed like there should be a third wheel to my musical being. I wanted to play drums in an original project. In 2009, a good way for me to do that was to put an ad on Craigslist, spelling out the type of player I was looking for.
Justin was the only person who answered the ad. When he showed up to jam, I remember us looking at each other in the practice studio lobby and both smiling goofily. We sort of immediately had a kind of recognition that we might already know each other, and we’ve been fast friends ever since.
The songwriting duo is a pretty magical thing. I’ve always revered it and longed for it: McCartney/Lennon, Jagger/Richards, Elton John/Bernie Taupin. As a lyricist and a drummer, connecting with a writer on a melodic instrument speaking the exact same language as me musically has always been the dream.
The other day I read a post from Nick Cave’s Red Hand Files:
When Warren [Ellis] and I arrive at the studio in the morning for an improv session, we usually don’t say much to each other at all. Warren goes straight to his booth with his violin, guitars, synths, pedals and stuff, and I sit down at the grand piano in the centre of the room. Then we play straight through for three hours – we’re on a thrill ride – two people in a conversation of the deepest intimacy and trust, a toing and froing of remarkable articulateness, where we are free to express ourselves however we need, sharing small triumphs and, often, our more mammoth failings. As I ad-lib lyrics off the top of my head, I know most of them will be unusable, but sometimes a line lands and it just works beautifully. What goes on in these sessions is as intimate and eloquent as it is possible for two people of our nature to be. After three hours of uninterrupted improvisation, we stop for lunch.
I read those words and a kind of intense hunger rises up. Finding a writing partner who speaks your language in all ways and has the same stupid desire to work all the time and shows up early to do so, who is willing to go on the flights of fantasy that songwriting entails, this is always the dream.
Justin is someone like that. Unfortunately, he lives in Nashville now, which has put a damper on the writing, but while he was in San Francisco it was a wonderful partnership.
We started by putting a band together called The Solid, from which I’ll be sharing some of the songs from our EP here. After a while though, I wanted to start working on my own material again, and Justin was game to work. We started a new project, Stars Turn Me On.
This band had different iterations. We played as a duo and then put a band together and did some touring. We released one album, and did several versions of some of the songs, acoustic and with a full band. We have probably 15 or 20 songs that we’ve played live but never recorded. It might be more than that. We hope one day we’ll have the time and finances to get those songs in the archive. For the time being, he’s rocking it in Nashville and I’m always putting out an internal tracking beam to draw in the next writing partner, knowing that they have a lot to live up to after this fruitful collaboration with Justin.
STARS TURN ME ON
When I wrote the lyrics to these songs, I was working in downtown San Francisco as a temp in a law firm. I found a good situation where the job allowed me to tour when needed and fund my studio and creative projects. It weighed on me to spend time doing something I wasn’t invested in, but I just kept diligently working on music and writing even with the 40 hour a week gig.
I’ve spoken to many people who seem to be able to be more creatively fruitful when they have a routine like that. I worked in offices since I first started playing drums, moving in and out of jobs that appreciated me enough to accommodate my goofy travel schedule. I always vowed that my own creativity was the priority, so I never wanted to take a permanent position.
I would leave the office at 5pm and walk the 30 minutes home, up the hill. I’d grab a quick bite and the car and drive the 30 minutes back across town to my studio to write or practice. I tried to make that happen every night of the week, and on the weekends if I didn’t have shows. When the Old Man was out of town, sometimes I would just hole up in the studio all weekend, sleeping on the floor when needed.
Later on, I got a scooter, and that ruled because I could park downtown and then drive the 15 minutes to the studio from work. That worked great until an SUV slammed into me and I got too scared to ride. Right around that time is when I started to be able to afford health insurance without working for a company, and I finally left the day job forever.
The lyrics of this song are about that time, when I was wondering if I would ever have an easier run of things, if I would ever be able to work all the time on creative endeavors without the need for day jobs.
I do appreciate the lessons I learned in those jobs, the computer aptitude, the way to communicate professionally. I also appreciated the ways that being a musician had given me a million different abilities that helped in so many situations, including the ability to deal with difficult personalities without taking it personally. That ability pretty much ensured that I would be paired with the most challenging of bosses in any company.
Once, the attorney I was working with buzzed me in to his office to see if I could help with some document issue that was delaying a deadline. As I walked into his office, there were about eight associates lining the walls, and all of them had that downcast energy of people who had just had a boss freak out on them. I walked to the computer and lucky for me, saw the issue immediately and fixed it in about 30 seconds, giving me hero status from the attorney and hated stares from the associates.
Later in the day, the attorney called me into his office. He said, “earlier, you walked into this office, and I know you could feel how tense it was in here. It didn’t seem to faze you at all. How did you do that?”
This caught me off-guard, so I did something that I hate about myself, which was to just blurt out the first thing that came to mind: “Well, I’m a musician, and this work doesn’t mean anything to me.”
I really regret saying that. I should have said something about meditation, which is I think what he was looking for, rather than a kind of insult, “Your life is insignificant in my view.” What a jerk. It was a true statement and how I felt about my life then and how I got through that job, but sometimes everyone doesn’t need to know how you see things. A lesson I still have not learned.
ANYWAY…
This song is about that time, about the spiritual practices I was doing to let go of needing my life to look any particular way, starting to trust that where I was supposed to be was where I was. I had a sense when I was walking home of the traffic lights being on my side, that we were sort of doing a dance, and they were helping me so I could walk steadily without having to stop for traffic. I was developing a sense that something had my back, and that the more I showed up for the life I wanted, the more I was creating it. I thought, maybe the lessons learned now are necessary for where I’m going. I stopped the deep craving to get out of my job and out of the life I was living and started trusting that it would shift when it was time. Sure enough, it did.
My wonderful friend and a true recording partner and another writing collaborator Robert Preston recorded this record, and his magical wife Mahoko created this wonderful video. I love how she plays with light in the filming, and I’ll always love this video because it walks through my neighborhood of 25 years and counting, a neighborhood I love and am in deep gratitude to. I think of that person who was walking home and working to let go of the yearning to be somewhere else, learning to fall into gratitude for all the gifts she was given and enjoy the ride.
Thank you so much for reading, and for accompanying me on this journey through the past. Here is the video of the song.