Interview: Eric Peters, Part 2

[See Part 1 for Peters’ description of writing his latest, Birds of Relocation]

I spoke with Eric Peters following a recent benefit performance with Andrew Peterson. We sat in what would normally be called the Green Room, except these walls were painted like a forest. This was “backstage”, church-style. Peters had just packed up his own gear and carried it to another random Sunday School room. He had retrieved his own cell phone from his merchandise table where it was being used with a little magnetic stripe reader attachment to process credit card purchases. (He admired Peterson’s newer card-reader gizmo and learned that it was available at Radio Shack and not too expensive.) And now we sat, chatting, beside the crock pots and plates of homemade goodies. Such is the life of an indie artist. No guitar techs, no roadies, not even a proper credit card machine. At least there’s home-cooked food!

I asked Peters about some of the unique challenges in the life of an indie artist, and he was quite honest. I don’t want this to come across as a gripe session – Peters would be the first to tell you how grateful he is for the opportunity to write and play music – but I do think it’s valuable to peek behind the veil of the stage and the record to see the necessary machinations that made them.

 

TSO: I imagine that a lot of people don’t realize all that’s involved in being an independent musician. Out of all the details of the job, what’s the worst part?

I think most indie artists would say that booking themselves is the worst part, and I would agree with that. I’ve probably been grumbling about booking for years – people canceling, or people flaking out, saying, ‘Yeah, we’re interested,’ and then falling off the planet. It’s time consuming, but worse than that it’s self-promotion, which I’m terrible at. It’s like going to look for a temp job every single day. Recently I’ve found somebody who was a fan, and she brought me in for a couple of shows, and I saw how organized she was. I knew she was coming off another job, so I asked if she was interested in helping with booking. It’s been great. I still sort of do it, but it’s awesome now because I can point people in her direction, which is such a gift, it’s such a break.

TSO: What’s the best part?

What I love is playing live. It feels like a home when I get to play these songs that I’ve written. I can’t imagine not playing music. I certainly hope I get to keep playing live, and singing in front of people, however small it might be. I can’t imagine doing anything else.

TSO: What are some things you have to do as an indie artist that might surprise people?

For one, we have to drive ourselves. There’s no tour bus! We also have to ask to get paid, and talk about money. That’s really awkward for me. I would say, “Sure I’ll come play for five dollars. Is that too much? I’ll come down!”

The reality is, I’ve got to have some other income. For me, I started a little side business in lawn care. I’m busting it, working hard.

There’s no label. It’s a lot of work. What is the work? You make a record. You have to write songs for it. With a family, where’s the time for that? What income are you not earning while you’re doing that? There are the day-to-day and month-to-month finances; that’s super-stressful at times. There’s the finding of shows. I think people think shows just happen. They’ll ask, “Why don’t you ever come play out in Topeka, Kansas?” Well, nobody’s ever invited me. People think, just come. It’s not that easy. Part of me loves getting to educate people in the process. I’m thrilled that you would want me to come play, but that’s passive. Let’s make something happen.

TSO: What about the record-selling aspect?

Probably Monday I’ll have 1,000 CDs arrive, all packaged up and pretty. There’s a part of me that still thinks that’s really cool! On the other hand –I don’t know if people think that’s a lot, or not very many, but 1,000 CDs in your house – I have this realization of, “Oh my gosh, what are we going to do with these?” The only way these are going to leave is if I go out and play shows. They’re not going to a store. There are a zillion artists out there now, and the digital world has made it a very big musical landscape. Just trying to get heard, to rise above it a little bit, to get people to take notice, is daunting. I remember a time when it was a big deal to have a record, to put out a CD. Now, everybody and their grandma can have one. It’s a super-saturated market that way. Even having done this for 15+ years, I don’t know how to get heard. I’m really thankful for the Rabbit Room and Andrew and these guys who want their fans to know my music. In a way, that’s how I have a career: guys like that who love what I do and want their fans to hear my music. It slowly builds upon itself. There’s nothing stable about what I have and what we do. I mentioned 2009. That was me having done music for over ten years. There’s nothing that’s a given.

TSO: Apologies in advance for the trite question, but with all the challenges, what motivates you to keep going?

Deep down, it’s because I feel like I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing. I feel like in some ways, I was meant to write songs. More specifically, I feel like I was meant to write these songs, that they might speak into people’s lives, that hopefully I’m bringing something lasting and good and hopeful in to the world. One of my favorite things is performing the songs. It’s nice to write songs in my living room, but part of that feels incomplete, just being a song, until I get to play it for people, and share it. That’s the gift of it for me, and hopefully it’s a gift for whoever gets to hear it and is edified by it.

Interview: Eric Peters, Part 1

File under: Artists you don’t know but should. In today’s dense musical landscape, that file is as large as ever. I first heard Eric Peters a few years ago in Nashville and realized right away that I needed to make space for him in my musical attention span. He performed a song written from the perspective of a rusty old bicycle chained to a rail at a subway station, and he had just the right touch of frailty that I like in a singer-songwriter’s voice. I wanted to hear more.

On May 1, Peters releases what I count as his best work in over a decade of making music, Birds of Relocation. It’s a “statement record” that finds Peters declaring to the world, “I have been through darkness and despair, and I am through with it. There is light and hope and life.” It’s by no means sappy; instead, let’s call it “informed optimism”.  To quote a review by S. D. Smith (I’m allowed to do that because this is an interview, not a review!), “It’s the airborne travelogue of a grateful, singed survivor, the record of one songbird whose shining eyes are turned suddenly skyward.”

I caught up with Peters in Chattanooga after a benefit show he played with Andrew Peterson for the Richmont Community Counseling Center. As the show ended, one of the Center’s counselors noted how much the previous couple of hours had felt like a counseling session all their own. Indeed. I’ve divided our interview into two parts. First, Peters talks about the new record. Tomorrow I’ll post part 2, in which we learn what it’s really like to be an indie artist.

TSO: Explain the title of the new album, Birds of Relocation.

As I was writing these songs, this theme of coming out of darkness emerged. It’s the story of the last 2-3 years of my life: this theme of relocating, being found again. At one point during that dark period, anxiety had me frozen, paralyzed. I remember at one point just not being able to move. I didn’t know what to do. It was really strange. I kept trying to hang on to staying present, not wishing away the days. Knowing that it takes a tiny amount of light to break darkness. Deliberately making an effort to move from this place of despair. I talk about this and I realize I don’t ‘have it’ yet, but, that’s the idea. For me, painting was one of these actions of moving forward.

I started painting in the last year and a half. I had never painted before, but I sure love artists like Van Gogh, and Arthur Dove. I love what they do with colors, and seeing the brushstrokes. I said, “I’m just gonna try it. I may be terrible at, I may fail, but I’m just going to try it. Enough with fear. I’m moving forward. Relocating. Moving from these boughs of hopelessness and despair and saying, Enough!” One of the first pieces I painted was a little 8×8 of what would become the album cover. Orange sky, a low shrub in the bottom right, some birds flying off. I called it “Birds of Relocation”.

TSO: I appreciate that when you took your mental stand and decided to do something, you chose to create. I believe we’re made in the image of a Creator God, and when we take part in that, we’re somehow sharing in His work.

Part of the story is that I read a biography of John James Audubon, the painter and naturalist. I don’t really like the word ‘inspired’, but to read his story, I saw so much of myself in him. He was an entrepreneur. He came over from France, moved to America, married and went to the frontier, which at the time was Kentucky. The middle of nowhere. He set up a business but it utterly failed. He lost everything. He had been drawing and painting as a hobby, all up until that time. He decided to lean into his talents, this hobby that he loved. He published Birds of America, which was this immense work that took him 14 years of his life. I just took great – I have to use the word inspiration – from that. I recognized that I love creating, and this is a new outlet for me to be able to create. ‘Cause I sure don’t know what else I’m going to do with my life.

TSO: Your new album opens with a song called “The Old Year”, and later responds with “The New Year”. Is there a line of demarcation between the old and new seasons in your life?

Yes and no. Yes, in that 2009 was a really psychologically brutal year for me. I had released Chrome. It’s a pretty dark record, and those songs were part of that story. I had a brand new record out and I had no shows to tour with it. Nothing. I was really flummoxed, distraught. I didn’t know how I was going to take care of my family. There was a temporary teaching job that opened up, and I had tried everything I could to avoid having to take it. I did not want to do it. I wound up having to take it, and it wound up being really enjoyable. I loved the students. I was terrible at the facilitation and being a teacher, but it was great relationally, and it was work! I wrote “The Old Year” in January 2010, as if to say, “2009 was a terrible year, see you later, good riddance.” But I didn’t want to leave it at that. There’s so much to be thankful for.

TSO: You said Chrome was a dark record. Would you call Birds a happy record or a sad record?

A joyful record. It’s a reawakening album. I feel like I’m writing songs that are me. I don’t know how to expand on that yet, but there’s something about the songs, and playing them and singing them that just feels like they’re in the pocket. I’m in my place.

TSO: Was this songwriting process cathartic?

Songs have always been a catharsis for me. They’re my free counseling sessions. They always have been. The older I get, the more I do this, the more ironic it seems that these songs I write are about hope, and that’s the thing I struggle with the most. These songs are not pep talks – that’s an awful way to describe them – but I think it’s interesting that these are the songs that come out of me, as if I’m having to remind myself.

Birds of Relocation releases May 1^st, available here. Digital download available now.

[Coming in Part 2: What’s the most surprising thing about the life of an indie artist?]

What’s a “Hutchmoot”, and how did it sell out in 6 hours?

Quietly and with little fanfare, something rather remarkable happened this past weekend. A conference of sorts with a goofy name being held for only the second time ever sold out in a mere six hours. There was no advertising. There will be a concert, but the performer has not been announced. There was a price increase over the previous year. And a date change. Still, the tickets were gone before many even knew they were available. How did this happen?

Part of the story lies in the goofy name: Hutchmoot. Moot is an obscure word for gathering. And a hutch is where rabbits gather. Why rabbits? Well, that’s because the organizers of this moot convene virtually at a site called the Rabbit Room. Created in 2007 by singer-songwriter Andrew Peterson, the site hosts discussions among musicians, authors, artists, and pastors on topics such as, not surprisingly, songs, books, movies, art, and faith. You’ll find posts by musicians like Jason Gray, Randall Goodgame, Eric Peters, and Ron Block, and you’ll find much discussion on literature (think Lewis and Tolkien), music (think Rich Mullins), and the very art of writing and making music.

So it was that last summer, the Rabbit Room organizers decided to host a physical gathering of Rabbit Roomers. One author’s father, Clay Clarkson, coined the phrase “Hutchmoot”, and the virtual became tangible. I attended the 2010 event, and it was really extraordinary. I knew there would be much anticipation for the 2011 edition, but, really, a six hour sellout? I did not expect that.

Nor did Pete Peterson, Andrew Peterson’s brother and an accomplished author himself. Pete is responsible for much of the Hutchmoot organizing, and I asked for his thoughts on the ‘Moot.

TSO: Were you surprised by the 6-hour sellout? What had you expected in terms of ticket sales?

Completely surprised. We purposely didn’t announce our guest speaker, any of our session topics or speakers, or our Friday night concert, mainly because we thought we’d need to use those announcements in the coming weeks and months to continue driving registrations. I expected maybe 20 or 30 sign-ups for the entire week. After all, the price had gone up, we’d added a day, and the dates are in the middle of the school year. We thought that surely we’d have a more difficult time filling up. We miscalculated. I got emails all weekend long from people upset that it was sold out before they’d even read the announcement, and I really do feel bad for those folks. I wish we could welcome everyone, but we simply can’t. We’re committed to keeping the Moot small in order to provide those who come with an intimate experience, and I think we’d lose a lot of what’s special about the event if we doubled its size.

TSO:  There still aren’t a lot of details posted about the event, such as keynote speaker and featured concert. Why do you think people jumped right in and bought tickets anyway?

 I think it has a lot to do with the strong emotional reactions people had last year. Not only were people moved but they were vocal about it. They told their friends, they blogged about it (are still blogging about it in some cases), they discussed it at length on the Rabbit Room in a number of different posts. I think we filled a need that a lot of people didn’t even realize they had. Someone in the audience last year mentioned that she felt like Gonzo the muppet who’s supposed to be a chicken but has always felt different from the others and out of place, then one day he discovers that there’s an entire race of Gonzo’s just like him and he finally knows where he belongs. Hutchmoot is filled with Gonzos.

TSO: Many of the musicians involved are independent artists, and few get large-scale exposure to Christian music audiences. How have you built enough awareness to pull off a conference like this and have it become this popular?

I think it all comes down to community. The artists at the Rabbit Room and in the Square Peg Alliance might not have millions of fans on their own, but by coming together as a community they support one another. Fans of Andrew Peterson discover Eric Peters’ music, fans of Eric Peters discover Andy Gullahorn’s music, and so on. Add to that our writers and authors and all the other musicians, all sharing a love of community, story, and Christ, and I think people are drawn to that.

TSO: Hutchmoot combines music with fiction and nonfiction books and even visual arts. What’s the common thread?

Story. Everyone involved is a storyteller in some form, whether in music, prose, visual art, or even the pastoral arts, and each use their gifts not only to tell stories but to tell, in some measure, The Story. The very act of creation itself is a telling of The Story, and that’s what Hutchmoot is all about, affirming the creative instinct within a Biblical context.

TSO: There must be some disappointment that so many will be turned away. Would a larger venue and larger scale dilute the intimacy too much? How large can the gathering be to still accomplish its goals? Can the concept be replicated?

I hate turning people away, but there’s not really another option. We’re not interested in making it bigger because we’d lose the intimate feel of it, and we can’t really hold two in a year because it’s so difficult to schedule a time when all the speakers and musicians are available simultaneously. Some people have asked for a West Coast version but that doesn’t work either because we’d have to fly the entire Rabbit Room team out there. There are just too many moving parts to pick it up and take it elsewhere. We’d have to bump the price into the stratosphere just to pay for it.

TSO:  Any long-term plans for this thing, or will it simply be evaluated year-to-year?

I hope we’ll still be Hutchmooting in 2025, we’ll see. Right now we’re just interested in providing people with a nourishing experience. We’ll continue to evaluate what’s successful and what’s not and see how things develop.