The Really Real: 6 of 12

Do you think that singer-songwriters are particularly vulnerable human beings?

Maybe on the introspective side?

I do know plenty of artists who confess they live inside their own heads, and often prefer time alone, in solitude.

I think it is a tricky balance.

We do need to be out in the world, catching each other's shows, listening to current work, and not getting lost in waves of nostalgia.

I admire Bob Dylan, for it seems he is always in motion, managing to have time to himself to continue to write, and paint and think, but also dedicating himself to touring and jamming and interacting with other musicians as well as people he meets on the road.

My feeling is that Bob Dylan reads constantly and immerses himself in the arts, politics, history, myths and legends, religions. He's a true populist, but also an intellectual. The thing is, he rejects being labeled, and prefers instead to immerse himself in the present. Just create, and let others interpret, could be his maxim.

A stream of consciousness kind of writing opens the floodgates to what is out there. It comes to you. You don't force it. It flows. Reading back, you see where you are. This is like driving without a map or directions, knowing that you will be guided to the place you need to be.

When I wrote "Underground," a new song on my upcoming album, THE REALLY REAL, a voice came to me. I was in grief mode, and didn't think I had anything to say. But it spoke to me and it said, "Oh that you should know/All that is in my heart/ Oh and that it should grow/And give us both a brand new start/ from the beginning of/ We circled time and questioned love/Analyse it/Break it down/ Mysteries avoid this.

I felt a code was unraveling on paper, and I went with it, only to discover that I was being led into an underground world. This was a part of my mind I don't frequent, probably because I am immersed in things that must be done, and the work of other people.

Solitude brings language. I can't claim to own it, nor can I the music that flows from the words.

But in grief, I was happy that something came to me. I think it was saying we never know what is really there. And there is always more. It is underground. But it will be known. By those who need to know.

And this is where we went with the song "Underground." It decided what it needed, and in the studio, I layered electric guitar tracks. Fern put on a solid bass. Then we layered vocals. Fern added keys. And Nick Vincent came in, and blessed us with solid groove.

It knew what it wanted of us. And now I can be grateful I had both solitude and the almighty jam.

For it takes both to make music.