Recap: Exploring songwriting with The National and The Recording Academy

Last night the Bay Area chapter of The Recording Academy hosted a special evening with Matt and Aaron from The National, as part of an ongoing 'exploring songwriting' series. 

At the onset, Matt mentioned that The National has been a band for 14 years, but that it took eight before the band garnered any real attention. Overnight success is rare in this industry, even when you're a master of your craft. (Shout out to my former colleagues at Paste for what I think was The National's first major cover story and 'Album of the Year' nod?). 

The duo played four songs, including "Pink Rabbits" and "I Need My Girl" from the new album Trouble Will Find Me, and sat down for a Q&A about what it's like to be songwriting in a band with five "smart and stubborn" people.

Here are some of the quotes I caught through the evening. 

"It took a few years before we knew what we were doing -- the alchemy of the band.... We never wrote big hooks... we weren't influenced by that desire.... But eventually we did write infectious songs."

Aaron: "You realize you have to have a sense of conviction because if you release a record and you tour, you're going to live with those song for two years, so you better have conviction, and you better love it.... The first two records [The National and Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers] were really about figuring it out."

Matt: "I will pop [an instrumental] track on Garage Band and mumble along.... It's hard to tell which pieces of music will create the chemistry I can connect to.... For each record, we have 50-60 pieces of music, and only 20 I connect with."

Matt: "You get five people who are smart and stubborn... pulling it in different directions.... We were afraid the band would break up. We were desperate to make it good...Boxer, we got thru it... though Aaron's lung collapsed..."

Aaron: "We call our songs ugly ducklings... It takes a lot of hard work, and faith that you will get [to a final product]."

Matt: "I'm never worried I'm going to write a sad song. I always do... But it is never depressing; it is cathartic... Once lyrics start to get fleshed out we think, 'Maybe the strings are too much now'.... We have to be careful of the melodrama."

Thanks to The Recording Academy and the band for the insight.

If you're a musician or otherwise involved in music creation, definitely consider membership in The Recording Academy. I've been to a number of events like this and they just keep getting better. Great people in attendance, too.

A letter to Matt Nathanson, regarding the money I surely owe him

Dear Matt Nathanson,

A friend RT'd about your upcoming show at Amoeba, and I thought, "Sweet! A free Matt Nathanson gig?! In my neighborhood?! Heck yeah!"

Then it occurred to me that every interaction I've had with your music so far has been "free"... and that made me pretty sad and also a bit embarrassed. 

You see, back in 2004 I went to see The Darkness perform in Atlanta. On the way out of the venue, a slightly aggressive college kid (presumably on a street team) gave me a swag-bag from Tower Records (RIP), which contained your single, "Suspended." Though I'd seen your name on some adverts for The Cotton Club (RIP) I had never heard your music until I got home and put that CD in my computer.

Holycow! I wore that single OUT! I listened to it so many times that I could name-that-tune as soon as I heard that first snare note.

A year later, I went work at a music magazine and discovered even more of your music, like At the Point, in the CD library and, well, borrowed it for long periods of time. When this thing called Pandora happened shortly thereafter, your music was all over my stations. I wasn't surprised when a Pandora exec told me that "Curve of the Earth" was surfaced more than any other song at the time. I probably contributed to a lot of those Thumbs-Up votes myself.

So back to the Amoeba thing, because this isn't meant to be a gushing fan letter...

I realized when I read your tweet that I've never paid you a single cent for all the music I've consumed. Not a penny.

You know how much money I've given The Darkness? $60.00, give-or-take... and I'm not even a fan!

I still work in the industry and know that there's a prevailing argument that, by listening to your music and recommending it to my friends, fans like me have had some kind of pass-along economic impact. Yet in my case, I don't think that's anecdotally true. In fact, I asked my four closest friends, "How did you find out about Matt Nathanson?" hoping they would say, "Because of you! Because you teach me everything I need to know about music!" Instead, two cited Pandora, one thought it was because of the radio, and the fourth said she covered one of your early concerts for a college paper and was probably the one who introduced ME to your music...

Maybe the radio royalties have added up, and maybe every fan who feels like she discovered your music has made an impact, but the fact remains that I've never consciously paid you for your work and I know I've consumed my fair share of it. So, I'd like to remedy that -- not by buying merch or sending money through a long chain of middlemen who will take a cut... no, I'd like to write you a personal check. 

Even for that original copy of "Suspended" I'd owe you, like, $3.40 if we considered interest and inflation. That's almost enough to get a good cup of pour over coffee in the Mission. But, heck, I've listened to a lot more than that single: let's one-up The Darkness with $61.00.

Should we arrange a hand-off at Amoeba? Do you prefer PayPal? Square? Venmo? I'm serious about this. It'll be like supporting a retroactive Kickstarter campaign. And maybe that's where this industry is heading.

Sincerely,

Caren