By Daryl Sanders
In the seventh edition of “You Asked, Todd Answered,” Todd Snider gives some “magical” songwriting advice, discusses the use of humor in songwriting and addresses the rumors about Elmo Buzz Jr., among other items of interest to The Snider File’s subscribers.
Kim: What would you like us to know? It can be about you or just a random thought you’d like to share. What hobbies do you have?
Todd: That’s easy: Who wrote The Book of Love, but I don’t know. I’d like people to know though. If I knew I’d say. I like bullcrastinating with Grady and Bubba about man and God and law. I like to walk. Shires won't give me back my camera.
Outlaw Gracie Wales: Have you ever performed in a venue that had a chicken wire screen? Have you ever performed in a venue that needed a chicken wire screen but lacked one, and if so, where was it?
Todd: The Wrecks did a chicken wire gig once. I wanna say Mississippi, but maybe Florida. I’ve never had anybody throw stuff at me, but one night I was playing somewhere, and the stage was so short and the crowd so crammed-in that the front row could easily grab at me, and I wasn't having it, so I left. I think I ended up having to pay them what I was supposed to get.
Michael Parris: A lil songwriting advice? Lately all my melodies sound the same or kind of blah or redundant. I’m writing good lyrics but the hook and melody evades me.
Todd: I got two words for you brother, Mike: Take a heroic dose of mushrooms — and this ain’t just hubris. Sykes told me that he got this from Rodney Crowell. And I swear by it. It’s the steroids of music, but you can’t sorta do it, you know? Heroic dose. Major hallucinations. Actually liquid LSD is your best bet. For one, it’s like flossing your brain. The last time I did it, I rented a studio called EastSide Manor and taped it. I felt like I could see my “same old melodies” like footpaths, and then some kind of animals would run down them and veer off of them, and I would sing that. And I came up with some newish, for me, melodies — they were awful. Chanty, had a Yoko quality to ’em. The shit I say when I am not singing, however, is the best stuff we got. As time went on, I felt like I’d Etch a Sketched my footpaths and had opened some new doors. It was totally worth it.
Max Barth: Can you talk a bit about using humor in your songs. I feel like few songwriters do that, and I'm not sure why. It's a huge part of being human, and I feel like a lot of writers are afraid to try it for fear of being “not serious.” But your stuff has funny things sprinkled throughout it, even the serious stuff, and I think it just amplifies whatever you're singing about.
Todd: Yeah, musicians who fear not being taken seriously are in the wrong line of work. Musicians who care how they are perceived are in the wrong line of work. When I make up songs, I feel like my job is to get out of the way and resist the temptation to use my brain and then accept what I get. But usually the singers I meet that care what comes out of them and how people will feel about it aren't gonna like the road. I’ve always joked around, most people do, it's what we do with our friends so we can talk, and maybe even cry about painful things without making that tough guy face Steve Earle makes when he sings at me about the shit I should have known by now. OK, OK, I’ll stop. I’m just kidding. Steve’s great. I’ll be here all week.
Max Barth: Also, New Connection, Todd Snider version. When is that comin' out? That’s like one of my favorite records. Thanks for playing “Rose City” at Philly Winery a few years ago when we shouted it out. Love that song.
Todd: It should be out by now. “Rose City” is one of my favorites.
Ben Stalets: Todd, in Ann Arbor a few years ago, I gave Brian a leather satchel /purse with Jerry Jeff and Sheriff on it to give to you. That night was pure inspiration to me. My question is, what was the advice Jimmy Buffett gave you about talking to the audience? (You mentioned something about it in your book but never gave specifics.) Love you — sending you healing prayers.
Todd: Man, I have some bad news. When he told me how to talk to an audience, he told me that he had never shared that advice with anyone before, and he made me promise not to tell anyone for as long as I lived. And so I don’t tell people what it was. But it really works. On the second live record, however, the one with the Great American Taxi, I told a story that broke one of the rules and still worked. Or I thought it did anyway. It’s the story I tell about taking mushrooms. Now that he is gone, however, my appreciation for him, his art, his way of life and way of thinking, and his family, has grown even larger. I made the guy a promise, and you can’t prove I won’t see him again. Thank you for your prayers. I will be in New York this summer and playing at “You Got Gold” this fall.
Peter McAleer: Todd, you’ve done so much to honor the artists that inspired you, and at the same time you seem to have a knack for finding amazing young artists to shine a spotlight on. I’m thinking about people like Sierra Ferrell. I saw her in Philly recently, and she seems poised to take over the world, but the first time I heard her music was through you. My question — what are the qualities you look for in new artists, and do you think you will devote more time to producing other artists in the future? Hope you are recovering well, Todd. We miss you on the road but are happy you are doing what you need to do to take care of yourself. You mean a lot to us. Pete.
Todd: I can produce, I think, a little, but I don’t have much desire to do it. And with other singers, it is kind of about electricity and resonation and shit, and you know how they say nothing is solid and everything is vibrating. Plus, I’ve tripped a lot, but there is a way a person who has no other option in this life but to be a troubadour resonates, a color that comes off ’em. When I see it, I feel bad for them. When I saw Sierra, I knew she wasn’t going to be able to avoid inspiring people. It wasn’t up to her, and so I brought her home with me. The first time I met her she was 15, and I told her she was going to be a big star. Then three years later, she had joined a train-jumping gang, and I didn’t recognize her. She reeked, but I heard her sing and told her she was a star. She said, “You say that to everybody.” And I said, “Are you that girl I met when you were 15,” and then she believed me. I try to be be here for anybody younger than me who has questions, but I only know about how to fight for your muse. I don’t know about how to succeed — I have no idea why I still don’t have a day job. My advice to Sierra was that it’s funner to go mad than to go pro. But she knew that.
Rick Shanley: Has being at home given you or reframed things after being on the road? And how much does the road pull at you these days?
Todd: I’ve been sitting with this question and feel like if I start to answer you, I might not stop. There is something certain people call a dark night of the soul, and I’ve read about it. I am almost certain that what I am going thru is what they are talking about — but maybe not. If I am going thru one, I would say it was named by someone more dramatic than me. But it’s no picnic. So at least I got that going for me. I’d rather embrace the sweet mercy of death, than picnic.
The road.
(shakes head in wonderment)
Life.
(keeps shaking)
Damn, how you gonna like it?
(I’m not really asking though. “How you gonna like it” is an expression like “Oh, blah dee oh blah dah; like “No. No argument or anything. She just wanted me to drop her off in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. Now, I’m being railroaded, man. But I mean, Damn, how you gonna like it? You know?”)
Beth Hvambsal: Hi, Todd. We were sitting in a restaurant in Grand Rapids, Michigan, years ago, and I saw you walking by. I just need to apologize for ruining your before-concert walk. I still feel bad. I ran out to give you a picture of my big blue feet at the bottom of my bottle tree in our back yard, and then several people came out. Sooo sorry. Have loved you since I first heard your songs. No question I guess but I can’t wait to hear you out there again. “Take it easy, but take it” you!
Todd: Oh, I doubt it bothered me. I don't mind shit like that.
Randy: There’s a young gun in East Nashville calling himself Elmo Buzz Jr., and he’s claiming you killed his father and stole his songs. How you gonna come at him?
Todd: Same way I came at his punk-ass old man. Like a herd of turtles.
© 2024 Daryl Sanders
Thanks Todd!! I'm gonna try that next week!
Great questions and interesting responses.