To singer-songwriter Brad Sanzenbacher it's all about community. And not just in music, you find it all sorts of places, Brad says, "I think anyone who goes to the same place every week and sees the same group of people is going to find themselves healing. Whether that’s an open mic night, a kickball league, or whatever, it’s the sense of community that heals." The journey, Sanzenbacher says, has been one of trying to do the best he can, keeping in mind that he's had to learn it all along the way. How we get to A and B doesn't matter as much as the images, the world building that comes through in a well painted song. Pulling all of the senses out of the musical kit bag, "Honeysuckle. Lilac. Perfume. Nostalgic smells; a secret weapon in lyrics." Building diorama's that pull you in is a large part of what you aim for, Brad says, a good song has a lot of moving parts, and a songwriter, the ones who are paying attention, are constantly working to fit those pieces together. AHC: What has this journey in music, so far, been like for you, the highs and the lows, and what life lessons do you feel you've picked up along the way? Brad: I was 22 years old when I decided I wanted to be a folk singer, and at that time I’d never played guitar in my life. The journey has really been the story of trying to do the best I can with that in mind. Most of the lessons I have are ones I’ve just almost learned. Don't be so hard on yourself. It's not a competition. Enthusiasm is a qualification. Those are hypothetically great lessons. I’ll let you know if I ever learn them. AHC: What first drew you to music and what was your early musical environment like growing up? Were there pivotal songs for you then that just floored you the moment you heard them? Brad: I’m more of a song guy than a music guy, if that makes sense. I don’t often turn on music just for the sake of having something on in the background - especially because when a good song catches my ear, it’s hard to focus on much else. My parents listened to James Taylor a lot when I was a kid and I was always mesmerized by “Sweet Baby James.” I loved how that song was so beautiful even though narratively, it doesn’t make any sense. In the first verse we’re out in the desert with our cattle, sleeping in a canyon. In the next verse we’re on the turnpike in the snow in the Berkshires. The only story connecting those two places is the one you bring with you. That’s all that matters. A little later, “Five Years” by David Bowie floored me when I was maybe 14 years old. It reads like a screenplay. There’s not a lot of detail in the song, but when you hear it you see the scene like it’s a movie. “A cop knelt and kissed the feet of the priest, and the queer threw up at the sight of that.” I still see it in my mind the way I saw it the first time I heard it. “Abandoned Love” by Bob Dylan was another one. There’s a line that always hit me where he says “I love to see you dress before the mirror.” It’s difficult to find such a simple image that can concisely describe a universal feeling like that but Dylan makes it look easy. I maybe have only done that a few times. The first Wilco song I ever heard was “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart” and that felt like it was written for me. When Jeff Tweedy sings, “I assassin down the avenue,” you know exactly what he means. When I write, I think about lines like those. I want to keep the song moving forward with images but I also want to give the listener room to put their own story and own world into it. AHC: Do you remember the first song that you ever wrote or played? Or that first moment when you picked up a pen and realized that you could create whole worlds just by putting it to paper? Brad: I studied film in college, and while I love film, it’s a lot of work to tell a story in that medium. You need a script, camera, crew, actors, lights, sets, costumes. It takes years. I can create a world in a song with an acoustic guitar and write it in a few days or weeks and play it on stage the next day after it’s done. It’s much easier. The first song I ever played was “Hotel Yorba” by the White Stripes and the first song I ever wrote was called “Soldier of Fortune.” I’d only been learning guitar for about 3 months when I wrote it. I wouldn’t say it was embarrassingly bad, but I don’t perform it anymore. It had some ok lyrics. AHC: Which musicians have you learned the most from? Or writers, artists, filmmakers, teachers/mentors etc? Brad: My friend Adrian Krygowski was pretty influential to me in terms of work ethic. I met him when I was just getting started with performing. He’s a guy who would drive 5 hours to play to a dozen people, then drive home and spend another 5 hours writing. He always seemed like he was equally grateful to get to play to 5 people or 200, and I’ve learned over the years that’s pretty rare. Lyrically, Todd Snider has been a big influence on me. Todd has a way of making obscurity sound glamorous, and I’m about as obscure as it gets. He also builds worlds and mood well. He can say “there’s a coke machine glowing in the parking lot, they call that a room with a view,” and you immediately know that this song takes place in a dirty motel, and stars a cast of characters who would be found in a dirty motel. It’s like he builds a diorama and pulls you into it. AHC: What do you think makes for a good song, as you're writing and composing, is there a sudden moment when you know you've found the right mix, that perfect angle of light, so to speak? Brad: World building is important in songs, even if they aren’t necessarily narrative songs. If you can drop little hints of setting, timing, or seasonality, you can help it connect. I think smells are important too and try to put them in songs. Honeysuckle. Lilac. Perfume. Nostalgic smells are a secret weapon in lyrics. I try not to confine songs by the idea that narratives need to be logical. I’m fine with cutting a story from scene to scene without a lot of explanation. A character can be teaching school in one line and robbing a bank in the next. How we got from A to B doesn’t matter that much to me as much as the images. Musically, I’m not an advanced composer and I don’t know much about music theory, so I try to make simple compositions. I write mostly in traditional forms, but I try to be original and avoid working in ready mades. My secret rule is if it gets stuck in my wife’s head while I’m writing it, it’s probably got a strong enough melody. AHC: Do you consider music to be a type of healing art, the perfect vehicle through which to translate a feeling, a state of rupture/rapture, hope lost and regained? Does the writing and creating of the song save you in the kinds of ways that it saves us, the listener? Not necessarily. I think what’s really healing is community, but I do think music probably creates community more easily than other types of art. But I’ve seen great communities around film and theater, too. I think anyone who goes to the same place every week and sees the same group of people is going to find themselves healing. Whether that’s an open mic night, a kickball league, or whatever, it’s the sense of community that heals. There used to be this old guy who’d come to the open mic at Modern Times Coffee in Washington DC, and sit down in front and paint with watercolors the whole time, just kind of slopping them onto paper like Jackson Pollock. I don’t think he cared who was singing or how good they were. It just mattered that the same faces were there. We were all misfits, and he felt like he belonged. AHC: What are your fondest musical memories? In your house? In your neighborhood or town? On-tour, on-the-road? Brad: The fondest memories are usually these unexpected moments that feel like you couldn’t dream it up. I spent a Sunday recently at a place called the Mudpuddle Shop in Niles, California with a bunch of folk singers and we were drinking wine and swapping songs all afternoon. And there were maybe 10 musicians, and David Kaffinetti from “This is Spinal Tap” was there playing keyboard (I swear I couldn’t make that up). We’re jamming to folk songs, and of all the things that aren’t really supposed to happen in California, it starts hailing. And one of the guys started singing, “Listen to the Rhythm of the Falling Rain” and everyone joined in. And when the fiddle solo started, I knew that I was in the best spot on Earth to be in that particular moment. That’s really the magic of folk music. It puts you in these weird, perfect moments. AHC: When you set out to write a song, how much does 'where the world is' in its current moment, culturally, politically, otherwise, influence the kinds of stories you set out to tell? Brad: I rarely set out to write about specific issues or events. But if that’s the direction a song starts to go, and I feel the lyrics I’m writing are good enough to do that topic justice, I won’t try to stop it. I write through heavily redacted stream-of-consciousness, so I don’t shoehorn topics to fit the lyrics I write, but I’ll chase an idea for a while if it seems like the story, the sentiment, and the message are starting to mesh together in a way that doesn’t sound forced. John Prine is the best at this. Sam Stone. Hello In There. Angel from Montgomery. Those are make-you-cry good songs with deep sentiments, and there’s not a cliche, bad rhyme, or contrived idea to be found in any of them. AHC: Do you have any words of advice or encouragement for other musicians and singer-songwriters out there who are just starting out and trying to find their voice and their way in this world? What are the kinds of things that you tell yourself when you begin to have doubts or are struggling with the creative process? Or what kinds of things have others told you that have helped push you past moments of self doubt/creative blocks? Brad: Base your self-worth on how much you’ve improved, and not how you compare to others. If you’re obsessed with writing songs, you’re going to keep getting better at it, and you’ll eventually find a level of success that you’re happy with - even it’s not what you thought you wanted when you started. And slip the sound guy a few bucks before you go on stage. AHC: You just released your latest album Stepping Towards The Light last month, could you talk some about this record, what the binding themes of this work are for you personally? Do you have any new projects moving forward or ideas that are percolating for the future? Brad: Stepping Towards the Light is an album of songs that I’ve written mostly in the last 18 months or so. It’s a live album that I recorded in my living room with maybe 15 friends as my audience. It has songs that are both very personal, and songs that are built around narratives. I think what’s different is my comfort level with honesty. That includes the songs and the nature of the performance. A few years ago I wouldn’t have dreamed of making a record without session musicians, or by singing in one take without punch-ins. This record is kind of a statement. Like, “Here I am. This is what I sound like. Deal with it.” What I’m most excited about is co-writing at the moment. I just finished co-writing a song with my friend Jesse Bryant, and I’ve been writing for a couple months with my friend Marissa Muraoka. Jesse tends to write with a funk sound, and Marissa writes with a pop sound, so it’s fun for me to write in styles I probably wouldn’t write in on my own. I’m learning a lot from it and I think we all bring different things to the table for each other. As for what’s next, I have a few songs that I chose to leave off this record. I’m hoping to lay them down with a little more production in the near future. Brad's latest album, Stepping Towards the Light, can be purchased @ bradsanzmusic.bandcamp.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bradsanzmusic Instagram: @bradsanzfolk Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/user/bradsanzmusic
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