new EP out today -- (covered with sunflowers)

we all get lonely sometimes. one of my favorite things that songs do is turn

“my lonely” into “our lonely.”

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these songs are inspired from stories of heartbreak from people i interviewed last fall.

but (surprise surprise) there are bits of myself scattered throughout as well.

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the EP begins and ends with recordings of these brave strangers’ voices, sharing the stories that inspired the songs.

i hope that when you listen, you can think about your own stories, and find a bit of solace in a hard world.

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sam & hello em

On imperfection, songwriting, and gardening

if the devil’s in the details,
then god is in the gap in your teeth

- Lucy Dacus, “For Keeps”

ope. can’t see my teeth — but trust me; they’re imperfect.

I am a recovering perfectionist. I liked school. I took pride in studying and writing good papers with plenty of time to edit and revise before the due date. I wanted to do all of the assigned reading, consult the rubrics, and ensure that I’d measure up to whoever’s job it was to tell me I did things “right.”

It served me. And it still serves me. But, as you’re well aware, it has a flip side. I can also get immobilized in the grey areas, stifle my own creativity, and put more on my plate in order to prove my own worth to myself while losing track of what I find relaxing or — god forbid — fun.

With each one of our three albums, I’ve gotten better at managing this part of myself. Because making things is the most fun I can have — it’s just that it also demands a lot of dedication, organizational, and follow through to make art that can be a salve for my loneliness and others’.

Now, working on my “Brief Interviews on Heartbreak” project, addressing my relationship to imperfection is taking center stage.

I’m releasing monthly singles inspired by interviews with strangers on some of the biggest moments of grief. I’m writing, recording, and mixing them at home — a radically different approach than how we’ve made our past albums in studios with dozens of musician and engineer friends. For the monthly singles, it’s just little ol’ me. And I feel like I am in high school again, muddling through my first recording using GarageBand on an iPod Touch.

On the other hand, summer is in full swing and I am trying my best (and failing) to keep up with the garden out back when I get home from my job working with all the kids who hang out at my local library. The poison ivy that I had been dutifully spraying with vinegar, salt, and soap has encroached into the yard, even claiming a butternut squash as it’s own — daring me to try to retrieve it. The strawberries kept up for a while, then were stifled by the weeds after being eaten by the birds. The groundhog in the backyard is fat and happy — and profoundly unbothered whenever he sees me.

But, even as Mother Nature laughs at my attempts to make her grow on my terms — the flowers still bloom. Amidst the weeds, I have a heroic squash harvest. Shallots and garlic aplenty. The tomatoes are coming in, despite some black spots at the bottom that require more pruning than I can manage. And the zinnias are in full force, begging me to adorn the home with them in empty jars with faded labels. I am not a gardener, but I am gardening.

The same thing is happening with these songs that I am releasing monthly. I am not a recording engineer, but I am engineering. I am not a mixer, but I am mixing. But, just as I am not a terribly good gardener, that doesn’t mean that I don’t have ears, hands, and the will to try. And now more than ever, I am more willing to be imperfect.

See, the dirty little secret the whole time is that I wasn’t ever making anything that was perfect. I’ve listened to our past albums, and some of the decisions were baffling, but beautiful. Some weird beauty came out of that wildness, way back when, much like weird beauty is coming out of this project now — a no matter how wild and unkempt the garden looks like today, there is a beautiful cup of zinnias sitting on the coffee table as I write this.

I’m looking forward to sharing the first EP with you on 8/22 — but you can listen to three of the songs right now at your favorite streamer (or this Spotify playlist). You can join us at the release show at Rambling House with Will Orchard and Kid Bigfoot if you’d like.

But no matter what you do, I’ll do my best to be unbothered and bask in this Lucy Dacus song. Perfection is impossible, but I will still try to make beautiful, ambitious things. I’ll aim to treat myself a bit more kindly and be a bit less stressed.

you are doing the lord’s work

every time you smile at me

- Lucy Dacus, “For Keeps”

scattered thoughts on songs, fun, and "All Over the World" by Friendship

Some eight years ago or so, I was playing more house shows around Columbus. Gathering together on weeknights in the basement of duplexes mostly north of campus, not entire sure what I wanted to get from it. Saying yes to mostly everything in the spirit of coming together to make something beautiful next to old dented paint cans sitting on rusting metal shelves on top of cracked concrete floors, praying that the extension cord draped across the wood beams above could power a couple amplifiers and a PA.

At one of those shows, I met the band Friendship. I have a vivid memory of them loading into a basement, navigating the tight turns of the stairs to the basement with an entire Fender Rhodes keyboard (of course it was necessary!), just to go back upstairs to get the pedal steel (again, necessary!), all to play for two dozen people in our most blindingly positive aspirations.

There's an easy story to tell there about marshaling all of your resources to make something as beautiful as it can be, just for a handful of people on a weeknight in your twenties. And I think those are especially vivid images because most of us have seen those.

But I think there is something more difficult to crystallize about what it looks like to dedicate oneself to making songs for nearly a decade. Both Friendship and Hello Emerson are pretty close to that.

This doesn't necessarily mean that it's decade of being on the road and lugging heavy equipment into basements and venues ad nauseam; for me in particular, it's a decade of quiet moments spent at home feeling certain that I don't know how to write a song, or mix demos, or produce an album, or spend time doing all of that while balancing the rest of life. It means making decisions about what to do for money that protects the time and energy to make songs - and keeping an eye on whether my desire for balancing musical ambitions with a steady paycheck comes from something rooted in something closer to honest self-knowledge or fear of failure. Not to mention whether any or all of this counts as something that could be identified as "fun."

But, I say all of that to say this: Friendship's song, "All Over the World" is one of my favorites to come out this year. And I think it captures the thought spiral in the preceding paragraph - and so compassionately!

So, I sat down in my home studio yesterday, surrounded by instruments and reminders of what I've prioritized over the past decade. And I thought I might just record a verse to promote Monday's show. And then, everything melted away. And I enjoyed making things for six hours. And playing. And adding synths and guitars and harmonies and textures. And not once in that time thinking about anything much at all.

And after I was done, I had the thought:

"well, that was fun."

And on top of everything, I made something beautiful to share.

So, we open for Friendship on Monday, July 7th at Rumba Cafe in Columbus - and you should attend the show. Yes, it's a Monday, but it will be a prompt show that starts at 8.

But, if you can't come to the show, please enjoy this cover of their song, "All Over the World." Turns out I love songs and music. I hope that comes across.

Why I wore my library name tag at a sold-out show.

I wore my library name tag on stage at a show last weekend.

As I put it on, I talked about the deep cuts that the Ohio House was proposing to our nationally-renowned public libraries. And I invited the crowd to do something about it.

The absolute roar of three hundred people stuffed into a venue is not something many people get to stand in front of. But that’s what I experienced. All before I sang a note.

We care about our libraries. We care about our music. We care about each other.

Deep thanks to Doc Robinson for the invitation to open up the night. Deep thanks to George Barrie ripping a guitar solo over a Daniel Johnston cover at the end of the set. Deep thanks to Woodlands for hosting. And deep thanks to the sold out crowd whose attention offered us “pin-drop” moments of pure attentiveness and great conversations after (many about the library).

The latest update on the library funding fight in Ohio is below. I’m wishing you well. Take action using the kit here.

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The Ohio House is still defunding your libraries, they are just think that Ohioans are too stupid to read the fine print.

They did this by reinstating the Public Library Fund, but changing the most important part of it — how it’s actually funded.

Instead of funding it with a percentage from our General Revenue protected by law — how it’s been for a literal century — they decided that they will personally fill it each budget cycle. This cycle, they’re offering a $90 million cut — and if they get this through, they can easily cut more in the following years.

Unfortunately, they did forget that they represent Ohioans who are used to being underestimated. And frankly, they are scared of the thousands of calls and emails that have flooded their offices and threatened their reelections.

So, the budget proposal now goes to the Ohio Senate. Time to call your senator. Tell them that the House’s false promise doesn’t fool you. Tell them how much your libraries mean to you. And tell them that you are reading the fine print — we want 1.75% going to the Public Library Fund. Find your representatives here.

Midwesterners are nice. We are not stupid. And we love our libraries.

Germany Tour Blog 21: Coming Back Home

In short, we packed things up and made our way back home. We drove to Berlin. We waited in lines. We got on the plane. We waited in our seats. We got to Iceland. We waited in lines. We got on the plane. We waited in our seats. We got to Detroit. We got to my Aunt Jenny, and back into our car. We drove all the way back to Columbus, after stopping at Taco Bell. I dropped off Dan, then Jack, then me — falling into bed about 22 hours after waking up in Dresden that morning.

There are a lot of things to be thankful for. No health emergencies or accidents, no getting stranded in strange places. Always people to play to, old friends to see, new friends to make.

People are the main story of this tour — I suppose they always are. People who offered us food, drink, and a place to sleep. People who sang along to our songs, and traveled from far and wide to come see us. People who have seen us on old tours before, and people who became fans after seeing us by accident. People who gave us recommendations on places to see, things to do, and food to eat.

Music at our level doesn’t happen without people going out of their way to support it. I don’t take it lightly. And I’m coming home more inspired than ever to invest time, care, and attention in fostering our own music culture here in Columbus. I’m more energized than ever to host bands from out of town, pull together shows, and give artists a great crowd of attentive listeners who deeply care about songs. I am lucky enough to have eight years and three albums with this band — and even luckier that our music has found a remarkable group of listeners who are thoughtful, attentive, patient, and so open to hearing new music.

So, I’m home now in Columbus. I’m working at my library. And I’m going to sponge up as much writing, art, and music as I can.

See you around town,

Sam

Germany Tour Blog 20: Saying Our Goodbyes in Dresden

Our last show was in Dresden — our second hometown — at the Blue Note. I met up with Elmer from Hometown Caravan to settle up before the show, cash stacked up on the table like we were up to no good. We paid off the plane tickets, the rental car, and then split up merch. After all of that, we were essentially sitting at zero — all of our profits on top from this tour would come from that last show.

Our friend and host Flo from Berlin made the trip to come see us play. We finally me Helen in person who booked out most of the tour (and provided support several times when we were in small jams). We got to see Mario and Hanna from K&F one last time to have an excuse to stay out late.

Two folks, Mario and Alessandra, found our music through our journaling videos on Instagram and flew from Italy to see the show — that’s absolutely humbling and amazing. Jack played piano on a song with Jens — amazing. And Mirko, Johannes, and Katie (the whole staff working the venue) bought records.

We sold every single copy of the new LP that we brought in our little car that night. We cleared 400 euros in donations, and another 400 in merch. It was the most lucrative night on tour, and I think my personal favorite show.

After, I could bask in some happiness, appreciate a long tour completed, fancy cocktail in one hand from Johannes, and döner in the other from a kebab shop down the street.

As tired as I was, I didn’t want to leave. We talked on the curb for longer than we should have. I would sleep on the plane tomorrow.

Germany Tour Blog 19: Old Friends in Langenberg with Garda

KGB at Langenberg was the last show that we played on our 2020 tour, just a few weeks before covid became reality and touring became a long lost dream. They are good people in this little town, and a beautiful venue in a converted rail yard with great sound, lights, and listeners.

This was one of our last chances to see some of our best friends — and meet a few others who play with them in Garda.

I can’t recommend listening to Garda enough — they feel like an alternate reality version of The National from Germany — maybe a bit more on the singer-songwriter side, but still creating these big swarming soundscapes and dynamics that swell and pop and dissolve back down into just a voice and acoustic guitar.

We were treated to two special collaborators on our set — Filip plays violin in Garda and joined us to play fiddle during “Ohio.” Thousands of miles away, it felt just like a laid back session with friends. Gunnar also stopped by the show; he ran sound for Lilly Among Clouds when we opened for them on a string of dates during an older tour, and he asked if he could run sound again for old times sake! He got behind the board, and it was the best sounding set all tour (at least in my opinion).

We had some hangs outside the hotel, breakfast together, and said our goodbyes. I’ll be missing them for a long time.

Germany Tour Blog 18: Time to Reflect in Hamburg

Tours at our level are impossible without the kindness of strangers. Friends of friends are drawn together by a love for and belief in songs, supporting the artists traveling far from home for weeks at a time with food, a place to sleep, and a stage (or at least a space to put an amp).

We spent part of our day off getting lunch with Dave in Hamburg at his wife’s restaurant. The food was incredible, the people lovely, and his dog adorably alternating between lounging with us and chasing away pigeons.

Dave had a few things to say about music that resonated with me. He talked about writing some songs “for the sky.” Meaning, some of the songs that we play and write actually aren’t for other people. They don’t need to be recorded and released, they act as signposts leading us to the next thing — enjoyable in and of themselves without anything else required of them.

He talked about piggybacking — a songwriting strategy where you write a new harmony vocal line to a favorite song, then remove the original melody and chords. You begin anew with just the harmony vocal line, and build an entirely new song around it as the foundation.

He talked about finding an approach to music that works for you as an individual — something that shifts and changes over time. He spent years working odd jobs and limiting his economic needs to ensure that he had enough time and space to make the art he needed to make. And some of that time must be empty — time spent being bored, listening to the birds, reading a book, seeing a movie, being open to the world and breathing in the fuel that inspires songs.

After lunch, we met our hosts Anton and Joey. They moved into a new flat about three weeks ago, which made it all the more generous of them to host us. Joey shared that they moved into it knowing that they wanted to be able to share the extra space with friends and musicians passing through — they both have such a laid back spirit of generosity.

We picked up some döner and shared it around the kitchen table, having a few beers and talking music. Anton shared a bit of his playing, and a bit of his dad’s music as well.

It was a perfect day.

Germany Tour Blog 17: Running Around Lübeck

I was overly ambitious about maintaining my personal habits while on tour. I had this idea that I’d run most mornings, keep up with my journaling, and maintain the same foundational rhythms of life at home. I ran for the first few days, but lost the thread after that. Lübeck was my redemption run.

Lübeck is a small tourist town in Northern Germany. It has a sort of northeast US feel — lots of picturesque shops and high prices (at least from what I could see). The inner part of the town is surrounded by water — a river runs up to the town, then splits to encircle it. The cutest.

We had played at the venue before — Tonfink — and had meet Carolin behind the bar before. She’s sweet as can be and made sure we had some good warm curry to eat just like last time (both Dan and I had particularly fond memories of it). Last time we played, it was winter and folks were huddled inside the warm bar. It was packed. This time, the weather was beautiful. So, a few folks joined us inside, but more sat just outside the window, soaking in the breeze coming through the narrow streets. Paul and Otto manned the bar, offering a few special shots throughout the night — and serving some of Carolin’s amazing chocolate cake.

During a sweet moment, a woman poked her head inside after we finished a song — she had been sitting outside, and her friends were listening to the performance. She asked the name of the song, then returned back outside to share with her table. Even if the room felt sparse, the donations flowed, and it was a good night.

The next morning, the weather was crisp, I had slept well, and I wanted to see more of this little town. So, I followed the path next to the river that encircled the town for about four miles to get right back where I started. I saw folks sitting by the river with their laptops, kayaking through the water in pairs, walking their dogs, and doing their groceries. I looked forward to finding my rhythm at home again on the other side of tour.