A Conversation with Chely Wright – HuffPost 10.13.10

Mike Ragogna: First of all, let me pose a question in a rather pointed way. This is 2010, right?

Chely Wright: Yeah, last time I looked at the calendar it was.

MR: Okay. Why is someone’s personal life anybody’s business?

CW: Well that’s a very multi-layered question.

MR: I’m talking about why this would be some sort of a concern anymore, like ever? It’s unbelievable to that your private life is up for discussion.

CW: Well I’m with you, but I can tell you why. I can tell you exactly why–religious beliefs and what people are being told to echo. They’re hearing it in their churches, and they’re being told to tell young people, “Try not to be that. You’re best to not be that.” We tell our kids, “Do your best to not become a drug addict, do your best to not become a thief, and do your best to not become a homosexual.” And we should not be saying all of those three, we should not be telling our young people to not be who they are as God made them to be.

MR: There’s such a disconnect there. I guess there would be a disconnect with people who are blindly following a faith, incorporating whatever prejudices they want to incorporate into their belief systems. I was brought up Catholic, and I know a lot of Christians whose wiring doesn’t go there. Yet prejudice seems to be the political football that’s used by those that want to control others through fear. It just seems like in 2010, why is homosexuality even worthy of a debate?

CW: And those are political waters that are easy. When you get down and dirty, and you just want to get primal and divide people, that’s the easiest way to do it. For politicians that want to divide people in the name of God, this is fodder for them, this is so easy it’s like painting by numbers. When you want to go out and sling daggers of hate and division, this is the easiest one.

MR: And, like you said, It’s been used and it’s still used as a divisive play in order to get people to the polls if they want to defeat something else, some other issue.

CW: It’s a trick. It’s a manipulative trick, and unfortunately, most of the constituents that find themselves manipulated by it, they know not what they do. Most people who find themselves manipulated by this don’t have the time to dissect it. They’re busy working, feeding their kids, figuring out how to pay for three-and-a-half dollar per gallon gas.

MR: There you go. I interviewed Steve Forbert months ago, and we were talking about the oil spill. We were talking about things like how California killed the electric car because of interests that were more greed-oriented than humanity-oriented. It’s almost like no matter where you turn, you’re being manipulated, and you can always follow the buck. Even with what we were talking about earlier, that ignorance always seems to be a financial payoff in the end for somebody.

CW: In that documentary, Who Killed the Electric Car?, the same principles apply to this. I don’t hold parents that responsible for echoing what churches tell them because when you have a baby, you take it to the church and say, “Help me raise this human being. Help me do the right thing.” I feel like we have to stand up as a largely Christian society, that’s why I joined the Faith in America board because of the damage that’s being done to young people since parents are echoing what the churches are saying–“Try not to be gay.” Well, there’s no need to try not to be gay. You really should try not to become a junky, you should try not to shoplift–these are breaches in judgment, and we shouldn’t judge people for these breaches in judgment because we’re all human and sinners, and we all make mistakes. But I don’t have a choice to love a man or a woman, I can’t love a man. I’ve devastated men trying to love them the way they loved me, and I’ve devastated myself trying to love them the way they loved me. It’s not a breach in judgment for me to be gay.

MR: It seems to be an older generation thing, most young people I know don’t even care. This ridiculous type of prejudice seems to be going away culturally.

CW: Well, you’re right. There is a new generation of understanding and young people who really have absorbed the notions of equality and liberty. Now, it’s not as far reaching as you and I would like to believe, I have to say. It hasn’t reached the far corners of small town America like you and I would like to believe. You are an educated man who’s writing for a living, and you’re finely evolved. I’m fortunate enough to make my living in the arts, and I’ve been lucky to travel around the world and hang out with smart and forward thinking people. But my tour bus also makes stops at every small town in America, and I see that we have a long, long way to go. I just got off the phone earlier with the Matthew Shepard Foundation, and I also work with GLSEN (Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network), and today, the statistics are such that young kids who are in transgender identification situations are called, “faggot” or “dike” in nine out of ten school days. Nine out of ten days that they go to school someone calls them that, and that’s nine days too many. I know we have come so far, but we have so far to go, and to go back to your question, “It’s 2010, why are we still talking about this?” You’ve got me. It blows my mind. I thought ten years ago, “I’m never coming out in country music, surely someone else will do it.” It’s staggering to me that no one did it–no one in commercial country music. I just thought someone would come out or be outed before me.

MR: I lived in Nashville for a while, and there were known homosexuals who were stars–you just didn’t utter their names, and, of course, they didn’t come out. It was sort of this “happy ignorance,” and it’s really unfortunate that I would say something to you like, “Gee, it’s really great that you did that.” It should just be understood, period. It’s just mind-boggling.

CW: But you know what? I was one of those who was whispered about; but no one knows for sure until you say it, and whispers don’t make it to the airwaves in Albuquerque. Quite frankly, what if an eleven-year-old kid is being driven to school by his mom, and my record comes on the air and she says, “Oh I love that Chely Wright.” What if that kid is about to go to school and get picked on? What if that is my chance for that mom to turn that radio station up and hear the disc jockey say, “Chely Wright came out as a lesbian today”? I took that chance, I cashed in my public equity, and that did happen on that Albuquerque radio station–that announcement happened. And that mom that says, “Chely Wright is my favorite. What a great American. What a nice lady.” That did happen. And that eleven-year-old kid in the backseat who’s getting picked on? He feels one less person alone. There’s a difference in being a whisper–and you’re right, we get protected in Nashville, although I was more in the closet than anybody I know of in Nashville. I’m not okay to be a whisper, I’m too proud of the steward I’ve been in my life, and at some point, it’s a narrative of who I am as a human being. Am I really going to allow another fourteen-year-old kid to sit in his bedroom and feel like an alien?

MR: I read the Entertainment Weekly piece in which we learn some new facts about you. For instance, you gave Rascal Flatts their start. Let me ask you about that. How did you discover them?

CW: Well, I hired them both. Jay was my piano player, I hired him from a Contemporary Christian background in Nashville. I hired Joe Don sight-unseen out of a club in Oklahoma, and he drove through an ice storm and slept on my drummer’s couch for an audition in Nashville. He kept following me around for an entire day in Nashville saying, “Do you want to hear me play now?” I said, “Just bring your guitar and follow me.” We were just boppin’ around the studio and I finally said, “You know you have the gigs, Joe Don, it’s okay. You don’t have to get out your guitar and play for me, I’ve heard your CD.”

So, then we went to dinner and I knew how much he loved Vince Gill–he just kept talking about Vince Gill and how amazing he was. And I said, “Well, of course, everybody loves Vince Gill. You’re a guitar player who sings high, of course you love him.” So, I happened to get a phone call from Vince that said, “Hey Chely, let’s go listen to the Bluebloods.” They’re great session players that were playing out at a club that night, and I said, “Okay, cool. I’ll see you out there later.” So, I didn’t tell Joe Don that we were going to go hang out with Vince later and I said, “Come with me.” I invited him and my drummer, Chris. So, we walked into this club, and Joe Don is saying, “Oh my God, that looks like Vince Gill in the back.” Then, we’re walking toward Vince’s table and he’s saying, “That is Vince Gill!” Lo and behold, we sat down at Vince’s table. Joe Don and Vince got to have a conversation all night about guitars, and then we ended up touring with Vince.

Now, Joe Don tells everybody, “My first night in town, I got to meet Tony Brown, I got to be at the studio. Chely Wright took me to dinner, I got the job, and I got to meet Vince Gill.” So, we worked together on the road for a couple of years, and I knew that they were working on a side thing–I think they were just trying to make some side-money. Jay said, “Chely, we recorded ourselves, would you mind listening to our CD?” And I said, “I’ll listen to it,” but I was thinking, “Oh no. Another couple of my band guys trying to get together a band, this is going to be awful,” because it had happened before, and it’s usually bad when that happens. So, I was driving to my house, I put their CD in my player, I heard two songs, and I hit stop, picked up the phone and called Jay and said, “Jay, there’s something here.” I said, “This is really, really good.” Shortly after that, they were signed to Lyric Street, played their last few months with me, and the rest is country music history.

MR: (laughs) That is so cool. Now, fact number two from that same Entertainment Weeklypiece: Patty Griffin saved your life.

CW: What did I say?

MR: You said, “I became aware of her during my breakdown in ’05, which eventually led to her coming out. I was looking for anything divine. When I heard ‘Living With Ghosts,’ I felt like God was whispering in my ear.”

CW: Yeah, I said it right. That’s the truth. As a musician, I don’t think that I am different than a non-musician. When something amazing happens in my life, I go to music, and when something devastating happens in my life, I go to music. During my breakdown, I sought out–or perhaps music found me in a way that I didn’t even know. I became aware of Patty Griffin during that time, and that album, Impossible Dream, really kind of held me. There were days that I laid on the floor of my bedroom in Nashville. I mean there were entire days, and I don’t want to say they were wasted because I was absorbing that music, but there were days that that’s all I did–lay on the floor and hit repeat on Patty Griffin records. She changed the way I wrote songs, and she freed me from the constraints of commercial songwriting. You understand what I’m talking about. As a music writer, you understand the commercialism of Nashville songwriting.

MR: I’m so over the whole Nashville cheesy pop thing. Where’s Merle when you need him?

CW: Again, there’s a certain craft to it, and I don’t want to begrudge the people who have figured that out. To a large degree, I made my living making commercial country music, and I love that part of my history. But I’m not nineteen anymore, I’m thirty-nine.

MR: Well, I also noticed, by the way, when I put your CD in my iTunes, the “genre” that comes up reads “folk,” not “country.”

CW: Oh, does it really?

MR: Yeah, so, some entity has designated you as folk now. That’s interesting because when I listened to your album–which we should probably get to–one of the things I noticed is that it maintains your country style, but it does feel like it’s embracing more of a Jakob Dylan meets Court Yard Hounds-ish kind of sound.

CW: Wow, cool.

MR: Maybe it has to do with how you approached this, as the person you are now, embracing other things besides needing to have a country hit.

CW: Oh, wow. Thank you. You’ve just given me some very high compliments. I want to stew in those–I want to wallow around in how that felt.

MR: (laughs)

CW: In listening to the music that I did during my breakdown, quite frankly, I had kind of dipped my toe in it on my last record, The Metropolitan Hotel, which really was a low selling record for me, but my most critically acclaimed. To that point, really what I found success in, personally and creatively, was writing what I know and doing my best to suspend my intellect. I made kind of a half-assed attempt to do that on my last record, and on this record, I couldn’t have employed my brain if I had tried. I didn’t even know where it was. I really kind of lost my mind, and that was such a good thing for me, creatively. You read about the great poets, painters, and creative people of legend, and they all were crazy. For once, I finally lost my mind. It was so good for me.

MR: You know, that line, “I lost my mind”? When you think about that, it just means you let your mind get out of the way and let the creative process happen.

CW: Right, and I think I always probably got in my own way. Art meets commerce is always a bad intersection. When you’re trying to make anything for the masses, something has got to give. When you’re trying to make food for the masses, you get fast food, and when you’re trying to make art for the masses, you get fast art. You get what you get.

MR: That’s a really brilliant point. It’s like you’ve got to be in the moment when you’re doing your craft or even every day at work. I mean, the people that are multi-tasking–what are they really getting done, you know?

CW: Right, there’s a point of diminishing return. What I learned through the process of rolling around on my floor, listening to Bob Dylan, which I admit this with a lot of guilt and shame, I’d never really listened to too much. Shame on me. I’d really never explored Tom Petty the way that a singer-songwriter should, but I’ve corrected that.

MR: Let me ask you where you would rate Blood On The Tracks?

CW: Oh, a thirteen.

MR: (laughs) What would you rate as his “one”?

CW: What would I rate as his best one?

MR: Yeah, we’re looking at it differently. In the pecking order of Bob Dylan albums, where would you place Blood On The Tracks?

CW: Oh, gosh. Well, I don’t want to fall in line just because I’m on the phone with you, but it’s really hard to beat that one.

MR: That’s kind of why I threw that one out there. Though Blonde On Blonde and his earlier albums were brilliant, for me, there was something about–wait, I may be wasting our time…

CW: God, no. This could never be a waste of time.

MR: Blood On The Tracks, for me, was like a turning point, where I felt like I could relate totally to everything he was saying on that record, even on lighter tracks like “Lily, Rosemary And The Jack Of Hearts.” Even in the wackier, more fun moments, there was still a groundedness…what a brilliant album. It’s probably in my top five albums with Joni Mitchell’s Court And Spark, Paul Simon’s There Goes Rhymin’ Simon, and albums like that.

CW: There’s a reason that so many people who write songs, like you and me, site that as one of their top five records of all time. If anybody has ever squeezed themselves out on tape, it’s that one.

MR: (laughs) That’s a good way to put it. And I’ll never understand why “Tangled Up In Blue” wasn’t a huge hit. I think it’s an American classic.

CW: Well, look at the records that came out during that time. It’s all relative, and it’s so funny to look at the landscape of what came out at that time. You wonder what gets lost in the shuffle, you go back and look at records like this Conway Twitty album that just blows my mind, though the title has escaped me. It didn’t even have one hit on it, but I think it was his best record. But it was the year that the new generation of hit makers came out, and he just got kind of retired. He became the old guy. Now, you mentioned Joni Mitchell. Let me tell you how obsessed with Joni Mitchell I became during this process. I didn’t know much about her either, but I was–do you know who Steve Buckingham is?

MR: Yes.

CW: Steve is a very good friend of mine, and a guy that I confided in early on about not only my breakdown, but the reason for my breakdown. He’d say, “Let me come over and hear your songs and talk to you.” When he got there and listened, he said, “What are you doing on that guitar?” He’s an old session player who has played on a lot of hit records, and he said, “That’s fascinating, what you’re doing with your tunings.” I couldn’t get my fingers to do what I was hearing, so I just started turning my knobs. I’m a piano player, so I just decided on this record that I was going to start turning knobs until I could get the voicings I want. So, I made up these crazy tunings, and he said, “Where’d you get that tuning?” I said, “I made it up,” and he said, “So, you didn’t go to some Joni Mitchell website?” I was like, “No. Did she do alternate tunings?” He said, “Well, she was famous for it. You’ve got to come over and watch this documentary about her crazy tunings.”

So, I watched this documentary about her whacked-out tunings, and I realized that none of my tunings are actually the ones she used, which I was glad about. That way I couldn’t be accused of ripping off Joni Mitchell, but then I started discovering her body of work, which is mind-boggling. So, I really kind of feel brand new about music. I feel like I have this old country past, but when I hear Bob Dylan’s Live At Carnegie Hall album, which is, I think, the best live recording in all of music, it still gives me chill bumps. Then, I hear Joni Mitchell and that crazy tuning stuff she was doing, and it makes me want to just jump off of a building. I feel like two different artists. I feel like before breakdown, BBD, and after breakdown, ABD.

MR: (laughs) I was lucky enough to work with Joni on a compilation of her Geffen and Warner recordings and a box set, and I learned so much about her. When people bring up negative things she says, I remind them it’s because Joni doesn’t have a filter, and most great artists were lacking them as well. To me, it seems like since she’s a fountainhead of creativity, that stops her from having a filter because if she had a filter, then it would afflict her creativity. You know what I mean?

CW: Thank God. I can’t believe you know her. I can’t believe you got to be near her.

MR: It was brilliant, a beautiful period. It was always fun to be eating dinner together somewhere and have folks like Warren Beatty stop by and pay tribute to her. Okay, that was kind of a wild sidebar, let’s get back to the third point from the Entertainment Weekly piece. That is: “She and God have an understanding,” and your quote is, “I felt like there were two Gods, the one they told me about in church that I should fear, and the one that knew my s**t. The one I believe in told me not to lie. When I was on my knees and said, ‘Tell me what to do,’ God said, ‘Tell the truth.'”

CW: That’s true, she quoted me correctly.

MR: You know, you would think that anyone with a functional mind would understand the concept that God doesn’t hate anybody. Isn’t Christianity supposed to be based in love?

CW: Yeah, it just doesn’t make sense to me. God also blessed me with discernment. Even before I knew to pray for discernment, I was given it. I have a spiritual compass that God gave me, but I was being told about this God at church that was going to burn me in the fires of Hell, once I died. That was really scary. Then, when I got home, there was this other God that was on the piano bench with me that was giving me songs to write. And when I’d climb a tree, there was God up there. I never felt alone. I felt the presence of this being or this “something.” So, I thought, “I’m supposed to keep this secret from this being that’s with me?”

MR: That being is supposed to know everything, right?

CW: Yeah, this dude, not a bearded guy in a robe, but this God–this present power that’s with me–I’m supposed to keep a secret from that being? Or am I supposed to run around with this abiding fear of this poster on the wall in Sunday school of this guy who’s going to burn me up and throw me to another guy in a red suit with a pitchfork. I don’t get that, and it didn’t make sense to me. So, the God of love and light won out, and it changed everything for me. It changed the course of everything. I knew I was okay, I just knew it.

MR: My friend’s son once had a nightmare about burning in Hell. Now, he didn’t hurt him, but he pinched the little guy just a tiny bit. The child said, “Ow! Why’d you do that?” My friend asked his son, “You felt that, right?” The boy said, “Yeah, so?” and his father told him, “Well, that’s because you have a nervous system. Now, when you die, do you have a body?” The child answered, “No,” and the father continued, “Okay. Well, your body has these nerves, and that’s why you feel everything. So, if you die and you don’t have a body anymore, are you going to feel like you’re burning up? You don’t have a nervous system!” It sounded like a brutal lesson to me when I heard it, but I realized that it probably saved his son a lifetime of fear.

CW: Well, way to go. Nice job. (laughs)

MR: (laughs) It’s sort of like, if somebody thinks that through for just–how long did it take for me to tell you that story, fifteen seconds? If somebody just takes fifteen seconds to think that through, it sounds as crazy as it is, you know?

CW: Right. We’re supposed to be taught that God’s love is unfathomable. Now, Jeffrey Dahmer’s parents knew that he ate people, and they still went to see him in prison and said, “Son, I love you.” He ate people. And I’m supposed to believe that if I fall in love with a woman, then my God will condemn me to a fiery Hell? He ate people! And his parents went to see him and said, “Son, I love you.” God’s love is supposed to be that kind of love times infinity. This is not adding up, people. Come on, it’s crazy.

MR: Alright, though I’m thoroughly enjoying our tangential conversation, let’s discuss your latest album. Lifted Off The Ground. I wanted to start by talking about the song “Heavenly Days” on which you teamed up with Rodney Crowell. I especially admire the lyric, “Dare to be different, dare to be true.” How did you get hooked-up with Rodney Crowell?

CW: Well, it happened in the most odd way. One would think that I decided to come out, wrote a bunch of songs about freedom, and went and asked Rodney to make my coming out record. You have perhaps read the book, and if you haven’t, I hope you do because the timeline is much more different, odd, and perfect.

MR: Yes, I read it. Very personal.

CW: When I was writing these songs, I had no idea I was actually writing my next record. I was halfway through making this record with Rodney before I decided to come out. Rodney did not, of course, know that I was gay until halfway through the making of this record. I did not approach Rodney about making this record, Rodney approached me. I had sought him out in my pajamas a couple of months into my breakdown, and all I wanted to ask him was, “Am I dying? I need to know if I’m dying.” He wrote on the back of my guitar, that day I showed up at his house in my pajamas, “Dear Chely, I love your broken heart, and someday you will too.” About a week after I went to see him, he said, “Do you have those songs you played for me on tape?” I said, “Well, I have my work tapes that I do each time I write a song. They’re just little home studio recordings.” He said, “Bring them over, and come have a meal.” I said, “No, thanks.” At that point, I was embarrassed that I’d even sought him out just to ask him if I was dying of a broken heart, and I said, “I don’t want to come over and eat.” Then he said, “Well, drop the songs in the mailbox.” So, I did, and every couple of weeks, he’d just email me, “Songs?” and I’d make a pilgrimage to his mailbox and leave songs.

This went on for about nine months. No phone calls, no dinners, no “friend” nothing–we weren’t hanging out. Then, he called me and said, “You have the option to go to dinner with me on Friday night or Saturday night.” I went to dinner with him, we sat down, and he said, “I’m not going to beat around the bush. You need to make a record, and you need to let me help you make it.” I said, “What, a record?” He said, “You do want to make a record, don’t you?” I said, “Well, I hadn’t thought of it. Why would you, Rodney Crowell, want to help me make a record?” He said, “Well, seldom does a producer get to see someone really going through a change and is giving into it. You’re really giving into it. I’m emotionally invested in these songs, and I want to make a record with you.” I said, “Do you need money to…,” and he said, “I don’t need your money. Do you have a label at this time?” I didn’t, so he said, “Fine, when you’re ready to make your record, then we’ll make it.” I said, “I’m not ready now. These songs are still coming to me.” He said, “Great, when you’re ready, we will.” We didn’t start that record for another nine months. So, the next summer, we started the record–that was the summer of ’07, I think May is when we started it.

We were six songs in, and I was realizing, “Holy crap. I’ve written all these songs by myself,” because he and I didn’t write “Heavenly Days” until the record was completely finished, in the can, and then in ’09, we wrote “Heavenly Days” kind of as an addendum and put it on the record. But I realized that I had all these songs, written by myself, and I had to go out there and promote this record, where people are going to ask me, “Who are these songs about?” I talk to journalists when I make a record, people like you, and they were going to say, “Who’s this relationship…” or “Who is this break up about?” As it stood, nobody knew about a relationship I was having. What was I going to do, make up a fake boyfriend from Buenos Aires? I realized my truth was, again, hunting me down. I could see myself back in that dark, dark place. You know, our truth is stitched to our feet, and no matter how hard you try to outrun it, you can’t. I was feeling that layering of my truth, and I felt God continuing to whisper in my ear, “Stand up, stand up, stand up, this is all I expect of you.”

Rodney came to my house one day, flew in from LAX, and said, “I need to land in Nashville, and I need to come talk to you.” He came over, sat on my porch, and he said, “I gossiped about you, and I want to apologize. People have asked me as long as we’ve been making this record. They’ve said, ‘I hear you’re working with Chely. She’s great, what a great gal?'” And he said, “Then they’d always whisper, ‘But isn’t she gay?'” He said, “I always say, ‘I don’t know, we’ve never talked about it,’ but I flew out to L.A. four days ago and I participated in a four hour conversation about your sexuality. I’m here to tell you I did that and that I apologize.” I think that Rodney thought that I would melt into some kind of admission, “Oh, Rodney, I am gay.” But I didn’t. I just thanked him for telling me something I surely would never have found out.

That night, he left, and I thought about it and prayed about it. Then, I called him the next morning and said, “Can you come back over?” He came over, and we sat on that same porch, and I said, “Rodney, I am gay, and I am going to come out.” I said, “There’s one song I held back from you the entire time. Out of all the songs I’ve written in the past couple of years, it’s the musical heart of all the things I’ve written, and I’ve held it back from you because it clearly depicts my being in a relationship with a woman.” He said, “Play it for me,” and I said, “No, I’ll email it to you. Just go home now.” So, I went to my computer, emailed him the song “Like Me,” opened up a word document, wrote the cover page for my book, Like Me, and I started my book on that day.

MR: Beautiful. What was the process like when you were writing it?

CW: It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and the most profound experience of my life. I’m really thankful that I have had fourteen years of therapy under my belt. I know myself better than most people I know, but I needed every tool that I possess of self-introspection and self-awareness to write this book. All of the work I’ve done on myself, especially in the past few years, seemed to coalesce during the writing of this book. I wrote it myself, I didn’t have a ghostwriter, which most celebrities who write books have. It was an amazing, profound experience, and hard. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

MR: Another of my favorite songs on this record is “Broken,” although it’s a toss up between that and “Notes To The Coroner”–I love your sense of humor in that one. In “Broken” you have my favorite line: “Why can’t you just believe in me? Not everyone is an enemy.” To me, that says, “I’m doing the best I can, what do you want from me?” I totally relate to it, it’s so reasonable.

CW: That’s the best thing, as a writer, if you can get the listener to take it on as their own. and to see themselves in it. That’s great and that’s a compliment. Really, I’m not a cynical person, but we all find that the older we get, we bring that baggage with us. That song really–I know the title is “Broken”–but it’s really a song about hopefulness. It’s about, “I’m a little beat up, you’ve been a little beat up, but let’s join hands and jump. Let’s give it a shot, love might be waiting for us. I know we’re both broken, but broken can be pretty.”

MR: Nice. What advice do you have for young people?

CW: My best advice for young people, even if you’re going to school and trying to get your masters, or if you’re trying to be a music star, follow that compass within. If it feels too good to be true and it feels like somebody is offering you something that you shouldn’t be getting, you probably shouldn’t. There aren’t a lot of short cuts in life. You know, in school, when you earned your “A” and you know in school when you haven’t earned your “A” because you happened to look at your neighbor’s paper? Your internal compass and your spiritual compass tells you. I guess my spiritual compass told me to do some things that I should have done a long time ago, and I’m finally honoring that compass. I’m so glad I named my album Lifted Off The Ground because it’s how I feel. I guess that’s my advice. Honor that compass within.

Transcribed by Ryan Gaffney