Thursday, March 11, 2010


When I was in high school, my friend Grant handed me a CD and told me I would love it.

The CD was "It's A Shame About Ray" by the Lemonheads. It's a good thing that CDs were hitting their peak then because if it had been any other medium (vinyl, cassette) I would have listened to it until it came apart.

I loved every song. Knew every nuance of the production. As a young songwriter at the time, I was fascinated with Evan Dando's laid back approach and delivery.

Then they followed that record up with "Come On Feel The Lemonheads." I was full-on fan by then, so nobody had to pass me a copy of this one. I went to the music store in the mall and bought it. It was great. It was progressive with more rock than the previous project but cleaner somehow...just produced smarter. I loved this record. Every song blew my mind. Even the hidden track that seemed to be a recording of a song and then tape of Evan Dando trying to destroy his guitar out in the parking lot.

Last year, I decided I need to hear some more Lemonheads. They had a new album out, so I got it. It was good, but wasn't as great as I remember them. So I pulled out the old stuff. Surely, this was still great, right?

Not so much. Oh, sure, it has a nostalgic value that's great, but I don't love the songs like I used to. That's the scary thing about being a musician (and specifically a songwriter.) The knowledge that many 'great' records are now mocked is daunting. It doesn't matter what genre you're in or how many CDs you sell...every artists pours themselves into their work with sincerity. It's scary to think that something can be lauded at one point only to be laughed at just a few years later.

How do you beat that? How do you, as a songwriter/artist, make sure you're stuff will last?

I have no idea. But I plan on figuring it out.