Kim Ruehl: Are you nervous about releasing a product, considering the economy right now?
David Wilcox: The wonderful thing is that I have been able to work at what I love and have been successful enough. I can believe that writing a song matters and that someone will hear it. I've never been successful enough to think that I have to prove myself that way. I've always been kind of under the radar. I think this music is quirky and it's not for everybody, but what I love about it is that the people who get it, it feels like it fits them strangely close. I've made my peace with the fact that that's what I've been given, musically. I've been given this thing I do that's not the standard thing, but it works for those who are looking for that.
This past week, I went to Nashville and was writing with great players. I love writing those songs that some other band is going to cut and it's going to be a jingle or whatever. I love the craft of writing. But I go there to learn so that I can bring those skills back and communicate to my heart, what's next for my life? What's the thing I'm growing into? What's the place where my life is changing? That's what I've asked for: for music to show me that.
Yes, the industry is falling apart but I've never really been in the industry. I've never thought selling CDs was a way to make a living and I have not made a living selling CDs. I've made a living from playing live and the CDs have always broken even at best. They've just been an invitation to come hear me play. Even when I had the A&M Records—the big label with the bad deal that I had—I could sell 100,000 records and they would still say that I owed them money [laughs]. So that was sort of standard the way the industry was back then. I always thought [making a CD] was a way to come alive more fully. It's a challenge to write songs to live up to, songs to show me where my heart is yearning to be.
How do you know when a song done? How do you know when it's good?
I know a song is worth sticking with if it haunts me and I'm thinking about it all the time. It moves me. I know there’s something here. There's something on the hook that's not in the boat yet. Don't break the line. If you take enough time you can land it but it’s just a matter of keeping at it and being persistent.
I know it's good to play for an audience when I think I can't make it any better. When I play it for one or two people, I immediately know I can make it better because their reaction is not what I expect. I ask them what it gave them emotionally, what they felt. Usually I realize my mistake was having such an intense emotional experience that I assumed would show up in the lyric when, actually, that's just what I was projecting. Then I come back to the song and say, "If I were to look at this with the cold, clear eye of reason and see what's here and what isn't...can I craft this song better so that it actually gives someone the experience I was trying to put into the song?" After I revise and play it for somebody and they absolutely get it, they are moved, and the way they’re moved is right where I was expecting...the gift is received. After I've played it for enough people that get it, I start to believe in the song.
The experience of having people get that song becomes part of the memory, part of what I sing from when I sing it for other audiences. So the stages of that are the intensity of knowing there’s something there and then the feeling like, well, I can't make it better so why don’t I play it for somebody. And then I realize, "Here’s what I missed!" It's sort of like finding the break in the fence, the places where it doesn’t quite contain the idea or emotion that I'm after.
I know that it's rare to have the idea that poetry is the most exact kind of language. Most people think poetry is the loose kind of language that just sets a mood and a dream...Although [those songs are] fun to write, they're impossible for me to sing because I can't believe I'm holding up my part of the bargain. If I'm asking someone to listen, I have to believe that I have crafted something that's as good as I can possibly make it.
You said you test it out on one or two people first. Who do you generally go to? Is it always the same person or people that you know you can count on to listen fully?
It's different for different kinds of songs. I'll play everything for Nance [Petit] because she's really good for where it's authentic and where it's inauthentic. She's the best. There have been many songs she's rescued from the brink of extinction. I'll have this song that's clever and blaming. It's kind of saying, "The problem with the so and so people is blah blah blah." Nance will say, "Why don't you make it first person?" I'll say, "Well Nance it's not about me. It's about these other people." She'll say, "Yeah, why don't you make it first person?"
I'll sing it in first person and realize there is a part of me that hasn't learned the lesson that this song is teaching. Maybe I should write that song instead, make it a little more real instead of just pretending I'm somehow out of the equation. So those songs get a lot more interesting when I play them for Nance and realize there's no easy blame here.
Interview conducted Feb. 2009
