David Alan Wright

It amazes me it’s 2009.

I pulled out my 3-ring binder tonight of archived lyrics and compositions – unfortunately I was not up to speed on the brilliance of the Circa system at the time – and paged through my old thoughts and feelings.  Some of the songs I flipped through have made their way onto cassette tape, some to CD and still others, the lucky/newer ones that is, digital.  Others I wouldn’t be able (or want) to play or sing the melody if I had to.  Those songs will stay simply as lyrics, written on the page by familiar handwriting but with the voice of a stranger.  A few songs are dated from April 1997, others ‘98.  I’m not sure when I wrote my first “song”, but I remember carrying a notebook around with me sometime around fifth grade.  I also remember trying to form a band in fourth grade that included multiple female instrumentalists and BGVs.  Even then I realized my athletic ability was not going to be my calling card to dates in high school (though I forgot for one brief season of football in 6th grade during which I led my elementary school team, “North”, to an 0-5 record as starting QB.  To be fair, I think I led our JV team to a victory or two prior to being elevated to a brief stint in the primetime).

When I writing songs at age 14, modest talent went a lot farther than it does now that I’m 24.  Being a songwriter was a lot cooler.  Writing a half-decent song was easier to stomach.  It used to be fun.

The problem with moving to a city like Nashville, or living in an area like Uptown Minneapolis, it’s more than just a hobby for a lot of would-be listeners.  This forces said writer to second guess, to stop early before the hook is finished and to avoid one’s back-catalogue of rough rhymes, forced themes and overplayed melodies.

A New Year’s resolution of mine is to actually share the music I create.  Being a perfectionist, I tend to hold onto my ideas until they’re already being done elsewhere.  So, I’ve decided in ‘09 that I will attempt the following:

1. Record a rough, iMovie-esque video and/or “live-in-studio” audio version of one song each week.  So, yes by the time 2010 rolls around you will have 52 David Alan Wright gems in glorious moving color, and,

2. Record a studio version of one song each month to arrive at an album’s worth of material by year’s end.

Thus, the relaunch of davidalanwright.com is my way of forcing myself to just play for the fun of it again.  To share songs that may be a few years old and a few chords shy of a masterpiece, but exist nonetheless, and may as well exist outside of my notebook or the rough demos only heard by a few pairs of ears.  Hopefully through sharing I’ll be able to reach people, polish my craft a bit more, reteach myself how to use Pro Tools and eventually work my way back up to the stage in some capacity.

I’m tentatively calling this soon-to-be body of work The Irving Sessions.

I have to admit, I’ve kept the guitars in their cases for long periods of time.  I’ve often gone weeks, months even, without strumming.  I realize it’s possible for me to live without writing and performing, because I’ve done it.  But I have to be honest, I’m not happy without those things.  And so I have to thank you if you fall into any of the following categories:

you’ve been to a show, read lyrics via IM late at night to give me feedback, bought a CD (even if as a favor), wrote an article or review, booked a concert, ran the soundboard, paid me a portion of a cover charge, painted or took my picture while on stage (I’ll prove the former later), created a music video, inspired me with your music, friendship and stories, encouraged me to keep writing, played in my band, let me play in your band, invited us to do a radio talkshow, spun our songs on the radio, recorded with me in the studio, patiently charted out songs on my behalf, sang BGVs, shared your thoughts via email, designed my Website back in the day (there have been multiple iterations), bought a bumper sticker (special props if you actually adhered it to your car!), invited me to share and speak, signed my mailing list, and, perhaps most importantly, let me enjoy life by giving the world a little music.

Thanks for all you’ve done to get me to this point.  I would be selfish to say this is simply about me, because it’s not.  The songs I’ve written and the songs I’m writing today are a reflection of who I am as a person, and that person is directly influenced by all of the above.

So, thanks for listening, and thanks for reading.

I hope you enjoy the music.

dw