Philadelphia, PA – “Birthing an Album” – May 9, 2000

My lids creaked open as though on rusty hinges. There was the type of crunchy, featherlight comforter I’ve come to associate with motels, over my head turning the pale light of morning into a red and gold lava lamp pattern on the starched sheets. Though still early, Philadelphia was already surfing the heatwave the forecasters had predicted. Through an open window, I could feel the heat radiating off the parking lot cement. I could hear motel residents in wife beaters sweating and swearing and retrieving things from cars and slamming trunks. There was no chance of getting a jog in without acquiring heat stroke or potentially getting stabbed so I doggedly slugged down the stairwell in my tube tops, towel in hand, sleep still staining my eyes, to the hotel gym. It was a sorry sight — a converted supplies closet with a broken upright bike, a stair stepper thingy, a pair of mismatched hand weights, and a slack-chained rowing machine I made myself sit on for 20 minutes before resorting to yoga and stretching. The History Channel was on. And snippets of useful information leaked like a faucet into my brain to mingle with the remnants of my dreams.

We have a marathon of Eastern gigs on the horizon — both a curse and a blessing. We’ve been out for a week and I’ve already lost my voice. I suppose I was asking a lot of it to work 7 nights in a row. It is officially our first day off and I’m officially on vocal rest. But honestly, the road is like a vacation compared to the last 6 months making the album. I think the best metaphor for it would be childbirth. Not that I’ve ever been pregnant (other than with song).

Birthing an Album

Conception:
First, the spirit of songs comes in the middle of the night, insisting on being brought to life. they force you out of bed, put a pen in your hand and a guitar in your lap before you know it, gestation has begun.

1st Trimester:
The songs knit themselves into your body and soul the way the sun braids gold into the ocean’s face and you start to glow all over.

2nd Trimester:
You clean out the clutter. Anything superfluous needs to go. You get rid of verses and choruses that don’t serve your baby and start to imagine what it will look like.

Birthing Class:
Lamaze is pre-production. You practice and practice and practice and breathe hard so that when the time comes, labor will be easier.

3rd Trimester:
You anxiously enter the studio. You try not to think about the possibility of birth defects, unexpected fees, or extenuating circumstances and you wonder if you’re actually up to the challenge after all. Will you love this baby? Will others? Have you picked the best producer to father it? What band members will help raise it? You question if labor will be as hard as your mama said it would and wonder if it will be delivered by its due date (oh please let it come by its due date). You question what it will cost and if your heart, soul, and pocketbook can afford it.

Labor:
By the time you get to the mixing studio you’re exhausted and ready to get this baby out of you and get on with your life, but the beauty of being pregnant, with child or song, is that you can’t just tell what’s growing inside you’ve got a flight to catch or a deadline to meet or things to do. You’ve just got to wait…. and wait and wait and wait and while you wait, you give your baby a name and you knit it a (CD) jacket.

Labor is difficult. No matter how hard you’ve planned and prepared for it, it hurts. It’s scary, full of uncertainty, and always takes longer than you’d like. But in the end, after the wait and the labor and the pain and the worry and the anxiety, you’ve got something in your hands that is as precious as your own breath. You’ve got something that truly reflects your heart and soul. You’ve got something that lives and breathes just for you, all because you took the time and love to birth it.

Maternity Leave:
Exhausted and overwhelmed, you hibernate for 3 months tending to your baby’s every need. You watch it grow before your own eyes into a shrink-wrapped and swaddled CD ready for the road.

Pre-school:
This. Touring.