Beth Orton on mixing acoustic and electronic music, 1999

To me it seems really natural, but maybe that’s part of my upbringing, part of living in today’s society, where you’ve got your organic aligned with the technology that’s around everywhere. It seems that people are doing that in their daily lives all the time: trying to bring together an organic feel and the technology.... But that’s really pretentious!

Chris Whitley on blues and beyond, 2004

I never felt like I could go back and lean on something that’s been done before me. It doesn’t sustain me for very long. I lean back and play some Delta bluesy kind of thing, and I really bore myself after one song. It feels like it’s too clear what you’re supposed to do. And to me, that’s not what blues is about at all.

Chris Whitley, 1960-2005

I'm shocked and heartbroken to learn that this extraordinary artist died on Sunday, Nov. 20.

Read some thoughts from his family and fans, or post some of your own, in these forums.

I feel lucky to have had several long conversations with Whitley over the years, most recently in the summer of 2005 for an NPR story on his record Soft Dangerous Shores.

A few days ago I offered a few reflections on his life and music in this remembrance for All Things Considered.

Leo Kottke on performing, 2002

There’s something about walking onstage that makes you think you’ve got to be good, you’d better not be a disappointment, and you’d better not make a mistake. All of that is horseshit. None of it applies. The opposite is true: you will be a disappointment; you will make mistakes; you will have nights that are just empty at best. And be happy with them.

There’s something automatically there when you walk on, by contract. It’s what “in concert” means. I think it starts before anybody is in the building. It’s something about people knowing that they’re going to meet as strangers or otherwise in a room and share this musical experience. You walk out and the motor’s running, and what you do is just follow that. That’s what’s doing the work. It’s really delusional to think you are what’s happening, because you’re not. You are kind of the excuse, maybe the focal point, or more accurately maybe the trigger. What’s really going on is just that curve, and if you pay attention to that, boy, it’s the most fun on earth.

From the book The Complete Singer-Songwriter: A Troubadour's Guide to Writing, Performing, Recording, and Business

Read Leo Kottke's notes on sadness, meeting Bill Clinton, and more

Spins: Thermal and a Quarter, Plan B

My NPR story on this Indian fusion rock band stirred intense interest--and huge numbers of (free) downloads of their latest record. Spin some tracks and you'll hear why: first-rate playing and singing in the vein of Steely Dan, the Police, and Dave Matthews, with a distinctly Indian rhythmic sophistication.

Listen to the NPR story.

And find out more about the band.

Dan Bern on finding a creative refuge, 2001

I’m painting and drawing a lot, writing stories. I don’t know, it all seems to feed each other and balance each other. Music and songs and touring and records--I love it; I can’t imagine a better job in the world, but at the same time, it’s a job and sometimes it feels like one when you are driving 500 miles a day and stopping at the radio station and going to the record store and doing the gig. So it’s nice to have these other things that nobody knows much about. I really don’t have to think about what anybody thinks about it. It’s refreshing. It’s like when I was 15 writing songs--it feels like that.

From the book The Complete Singer-Songwriter: A Troubadour's Guide to Writing, Performing, Recording, and Business

More about Dan Bern

Joni Mitchell on recording Blue, 1996

I was opened up. As a matter of fact, we had to close the doors and lock them while I recorded that, because I was in a state of mind that in this culture would be called a nervous breakdown. In pockets of the Orient it would be considered a shamanic conversion. It begins with a sense of isolation and of not knowing anything, which is accompanied by a tremendous panic. Then clairvoyant qualities begin to come in, and you and the world become transparent, so if you’re approached by a person, all their secrets are not closeted. Like a Gypsy, you get too much of a read on who a person is. It makes you see a lot of ugliness in people that you’d rather not know about, and you lie to yourself and say something nice about them to cover it up. It gets very confusing. In that state of mind I was defenseless as a result, stripped down to a position of absolutely no capability of the normal pretension that people have to survive.

From the book Rock Troubadours

Spins: Johnny Society, Coming to Get You

Some of the best things about '70s rock--groove-heavy guitar, a touch of sweaty soul, a taste for melodic and harmonic adventure--come barreling back in this New York band. Frontman Kenny Siegal has a John Lennon-esque fire in his voice and a bag of songs that are steeped in tradition yet full of unexpected twists. (Speaking of which, Siegal shared some interesting reflections on Lennon in my recent 25th anniversary tribute.)

You can sample a few songs from Coming to Get You here. Also keep your ears peeled for Chris Whitley's gothic-rock record Reiter In, recorded with Siegal at his home studio. I heard a few tracks during the mastering session that left me hungry for more...

Andy Summers of the Police on the guitar industry, 1994

Especially in America, the guitar has become such an industry, and I find it all a bit of a turnoff. When I started, there was nothing; now, there's every possible video, everything you can think of is available. It's what I call the tyranny of possibilities, and I think it must be very confusing to start out with.

Ben Harper on his first guitar, 1999

I was nine at the oldest when I got my first guitar. I wanted to play, and I kept reaching for my mom’s guitars, which were quite nice--Gibsons and Martins and such. I was like, "I want a guitar like yours, Mom." She was like, "No. I will get you your first guitar." So she gave me a bottom-feeder nylon-string--very basic, plywood, orange top, brown sides--and I played it and I played it.

My brothers and I were heavily into BMX, and we were making double-sided ramps that we would jump off one side and land on the other. Out in front of the house, we were getting everything but the kitchen sink to jump over--there was everything from Big Wheels to phonographs that didn't work anymore. I came home from school one day, and there was my guitar in the pile of stuff they were jumping! I just nutted up, “Nooo!” I grabbed it. It had been good and scuffed, but it was still working. I was like, "Oh my God!" I was furious.