All Kinds Of Commas is a weekly newsletter about the pursuit of a creative life and all the commas that get us there. My name is Eric Ryan Anderson and I’ve spent the last twenty years exploring the world with a camera and all kinds of good people. This is a space to share some of those stories and look to the future together.

CURRENTLY,

I’m in another hotel room, window open, cool (ish) early autumn air wafting through the curtain. A week ago, I was breathing mountain air in Big Sky, Montana… Today I’m one floor above the sidewalk at Allen & Broome in the lower east side of Manhattan. Trash trucks and construction, taxi horns and wafts of weed. It’s about as far as you can get from a quiet mountain view in Montana, but for some inexplicable reason, I take equal solace in both.

A FEW WEEKS AGO,

I found myself racing from my incoming flight to downtown Nashville in an attempt to get my daughter to a Benson Boone concert before we missed more than a couple songs. We ran from the parking garage and landed in our seats just in time for backflip number one and an hour of screaming teens, impressive vocals and a bit too much bare chest for my taste.

She loved it. I loved that she loved it. And it was a reminder that music is genuinely magic. There’s a physical, mystical relationship between music and soul and I’m pretty certain it’s backed up with actual science about what these sound waves, melody and recognition do to our minds and bodies.

I love Rauschenberg’s collages and Georgia O’Keefe’s work from Abiquiu. I think Sleeping by the Mississippi is a masterpiece. But music has that ability to infiltrate/wreck/heal me more than any visual art I’ve encountered.

This week, Ezra Klein had Brian Eno on his podcast. It’s a must listen and the link is down at the bottom of this post. It got me thinking about art and play and why we feel the need to do things like make art. And it pushed me down a rabbit hole of other Eno interviews and quotes.

“The great benefit of music is that it’s so deeply tied to the body. It’s not something that happens ‘out there’ — it’s something you feel in your gut, in your pulse, in your breath.” - Brian Eno

And this is what I’m talking about here... Music is an art form unique in it’s ability to overtake us, transport us to a memory, a feeling or a place we want to exist within. Luckily for me, I’ve spent the better part of the last two decades working and living alongside musicians.

From Emmylou Harris to Post Malone, John Legend to John Mayer and so many in between… This career has walked me into studios, tour buses and rooms I had no business being in were it not for the camera in my (often sweaty) hands.

I usually feel like such a fraud in the presence of musicians. These are the ones who spill their guts, put it on a record and hand it to the world to judge. It is the ultimate risk of ego, pride, identity and relevance. Then I (the photographer) come in and make some kind of visual record that time-stamps an album cycle, risking almost nothing and riding the wake of their art.

Music is magic and I’m obviously not the first to make this claim… There are books and papers and thousands of podcasts about music and I don’t claim to know anything new. So for the sake of making a cohesive newsletter, I sat down with a good friend to chat about life as a songwriter, and sprinkled in a few photographs I’ve made with musicians lately.

TWENTY YEARS AGO,

I sent a Myspace message to a band called Green River Ordinance in an effort to snag a photo pass and explore this new fascination I had with photographing live music.

The lead singer of that band was a guy named Josh Jenkins who subsequently, over twenty years of twists and turns, has ended up being a father of four, a wildly successful songwriter and one of my dearest friends. I forced him to chat with me about the power of songwriting and how our worlds have evolved over twenty years.

ERA: Twenty years ago, I sent your band a Myspace message asking for a photo pass to a show you were playing at Gypsy Tea Room. Now you and I talk almost daily, take walks around the neighborhood and on most days, have to drag our daughters away from playdates with each other.

Musically speaking, you’ve done it all over those twenty years… Big record deals and fancy music videos, arena shows and number one songs. All while we’ve gone from CDs to Napster to Spotify to TikTok. How wildly different does your career look now than you might have thought it would 20 years ago?

JJ: Growing up in Texas, my mom and dad had a family band that my bro and I played in. We would travel around Texas on the weekends and play these little hole in the wall spots. I would be singing Gene Watson, Merle Haggard, George Jones songs about cheating, drinking, and dying as a 10-year-old. And then I would go to church on Sunday. And I didn’t know any music really existed outside of country and church until I met the guys who would become Green River Ordinance.

I remember meeting Jamey and Geoff and being in complete awe. They had this blues rock band, wore bell bottoms and had hair down to their shoulders. This was a real band. I started writing songs with them and our first show was at the Ridglea Theatre in Fort Worth. I was this shy kid who was deathly afraid of being in front of people, and the whole school came out. I had my back to the crowd most of the show.

Those early years, everything we did was so ground level. It was putting CD sleeves on cars, building email lists and opening up for whoever would take us. One of our big breaks came when we got asked to go on tour with Collective Soul. I remember standing side-stage and Jamey told me to watch Ed Roland, the lead singer. At that point in time, there was no Instagram, there was no TikTok. So watching him perform every night was my education on music and being a lead singer.

Through years of grassroots efforts and linking up with our longtime manager Paul, we ended up getting a deal with Capitol Records and spending more years driving a van around the country. And, man, there’s some magic that happens when you roll up to a city in a dirty van, unload your stuff, eat at a local burger joint, invite somebody to your show where 35 people show up. You meet those people and you hang out afterwards and you have a drink with ‘em, then the next time you come, they’ve told friends about you so there’s 80 people, then 150 people, and you watch that cycle continue year after year.

Years later, we all wanted to get off the road and spend more time with our families. So I had to put the “lead singer” identity down. This thing that had changed my life and made me confident enough to call myself a songwriter was gone. Moving to Nashville has its own education, getting immersed in the songwriting community and trying to figure out what it even means to write songs for a living. How do I treat songwriting like a job? And I quickly learned to respect what Nashville had to offer, which was the blue collar approach to craft and the idea of showing up every day to put in the hours.

I didn’t realize how undisciplined I was at the craft until I got to Nashville, and how much you have to show up every day, often when you don’t feel like it, and you try to create something.

So it’s been a wild ride and I feel so many layers of perspective from the CD slinging days to Myspace to Instagram, to now TikTok, all while just trying to maintain the essence of what I do. Music finds people in different ways, but the source of what we do never changes. It’s always about the song and the people. The thing that keeps wind in my sail and keeps me fresh and inspired is remembering that I believe people need songs. And at this point in time and this point in history, I have this God-given inspiration and ability to create songs for people. And I just want to use that as an opportunity and a responsibility.

ERA: So what’s one piece of advice you’d have for Josh from 20 years ago?

JJ: Learning is something that keeps me excited, so I’d tell myself to be more of a student of the craft of making songs. It’s listening to an amazing song and being like, oh my gosh, what is the secret sauce here? What ingredients in this wreck my heart? I think the moment you feel like you’ve figured something out, the moment that you get formulaic, your work can get dry. But being open to continually learning, and the excitement and that energy from that, carries over into the creative process.

So even now, I’ll go back and look at my favorite songs ever. And I’ll print the lyrics out. I want to see the words, I want to sing the words. I want to feel the curves around the melodies and the words, and learn almost like a map and be like, what makes this magic? And in that process, hopefully that magic sauce soaks into my spirit and my creative sponge, and maybe I can carry some of that energy into new creations. Early on I was a student by proximity and not necessarily by discipline.

ERA: I’m always intrigued by creative spaces and artists who need space to make things. What’s your studio like? What does an ideal songwriting space feel like, whether you’re in town or on a writing retreat?

JJ: I have a therapist buddy whose office feels really earthy and warm, full of plants and life, and it just feels like, man, I can feel the weight of the world come off when I’m here. On a day to day basis, my office is my writing zone. So I want my writer’s room to feel like almost like that therapist office in the sense of a place that feels safe to tell the truth. Nothing is off limits here. It’s okay to come in and spill your heart out and spill your guts, because that’s when you get to the good stuff.

ERA: There’s something spiritual at play when making art. Not religious, but spiritual. An authentic message or meaningful experience can somehow make its way through the radio airwaves or a paintbrush or a photograph. Truth somehow manifests itself through art. How you try to infuse truth into your songwriting process? Is that a hard thing to dial in every day/week?

JJ: One of my mentors is a guy named Alan Shamblin and he’s in the songwriting Hall of Fame. He said that at the highest level, creating music or art is a spiritual act. You are catching something from elsewhere and transmitting it through the creation of something. And you and I both feel this in our favorite songs. When I listen to No Hard Feelings by the Avett Brothers, I feel that song deep in my bones. I’ve written plenty of songs that are just catchy and that’s okay. There’s a time and a place for a bop. But even going back to the first question, the thing I’m having a harder time doing these days is writing stuff that doesn’t feel or mean anything to me. Maybe it’s the emo kid in me, but the more songs I’ve written, the harder it gets for me to write songs that don’t have a level of heart and soul. I’m less interested in the fluff. And it doesn’t always have to be serious, but my appetite is for something that transmits some level of heart and soul.

And this is my North Star. Are we just making something, or are we being mindful with our creative process? Some people have a different North Star. Some people go, I just want to write a bunch of big hit songs. For me, I would love to keep putting food on the table with the creative songwriting, and not to hyper-size it, but I do feel like God has put an unrest on my heart of writing songs that don’t matter or lean on things I don’t care about.

I have an opportunity to give songs to a society that could use some songs. I’m thinking about the stressed out dad driving his daughter to school. What song would they sing? Or the marriage that’s going through hard times that needs to hear some words on redemption. What song would they sing? Or the brother that hasn’t forgiven his brother and he needs a song of forgiveness. Not to be blindly positive, but I want to care for the craft and be careful about what I put out there. Songs have power to connect or divide, and I want to be a contributor to the connecting.

To me that’s the highest view of what we do. It’s acknowledging that this cannot just be about commerce. I know a lot of people that are unsatisfied creators and I think that’s because creative work can become all about charts and metrics and streams and sales and all of the material aspect of what we do. So there’s a level of dissatisfaction. And I believe that God created you, so when you create something, you are channeling that spirit, that soul, that heart. It’s not always a thing you can just turn on like a light switch. It has to be handled with care and given space to breathe.

ERA: So as we trudge further into an era where computers can make their own music, and do it better every day, why do you think these real songs and music are important?

JJ: Art is the fabric of what a society clings to for heart and soul. Something that stirs their soul outside of the mechanical material that we swim in. As things get more perfect, the appetite for imperfection will increase. And so the need for the raw, ragged, rough edges of humanity will be felt within music. And we need that because there’s a lot of white noise that just disconnects with your soul.

I always need to be reminded that I’m not alone on this crazy ride. I need real songs and real creation, and the fingerprint of that will always be able to be heard and felt. I have to believe that. Not that AI won’t be a tool in the coming years, but I have to believe that there’s just no one that can tell a story like a person that’s been through something. And as a writer and listener of music, I have to rest upon the fact that I need real songs from real people.

In the modern music era, everything got so good with auto tune and beat detective that we could technically make something perfect. But people have gravitated back towards the raw, the imperfect, the out of tune. I mean, Zach Bryan is a great example, kind of the domino that tipped with him and all these other acts that have followed is people are hungry for things that feel human, that feel relatable, that feel raw, that they can touch and feel the edges.

And so I feel very bullish about the appetite for that. I think as AI enables us to make things more easily and efficiently, the thing that will never be lost is the desire to fill humanity with the things that we create and experience, be it a show, be it music, be it a photograph.

ERA: Last Question. We’re getting older, which for me feels great. I’m excited to shed the identity-seeking, career-insecure version of myself and really make art more fearlessly and give away any knowledge I’ve gained to the next crew coming up. How do you feel about this mid-life transition phase? How have you handled moving from the cool young lead singer to the seasoned, successful songwriter? And is there advice you have today for that young artist eager to make things and share them with the world?

JJ: One of the things you can feel like you need to fight for is relevance. And trying to stay relevant is just wasted energy, versus seeing music as an offering. If this is something that I can serve, how do I serve the younger writers that are coming up? I get to experience a lot of young songwriter energy and it keeps me childlike and whimsical about this whole thing. These younger artists are excited and their perspective and creativity is a fresh wind that I can participate with, then bring what I’ve learned to that table, versus viewing it as a threat.

So I’m trying to just enjoy and learn from that, then bring what I can to it as well. I would tell that fresh-faced 20-year-old that there are things that change and things that never change. Your perspective will change, your context will change, culture and technology will definitely change, all of that stuff. But making anything starts with having a purpose as a creator to write brave, courageous, fearless art. Be less distracted by the peripheral things swirling out there and be vigilant and fearless with the development of your craft.

I see a lot of people lose focus on the heart and passion to focus more on the wheels of commerce, trying to write a hit, whatever that even means. For me, if you want to do this for 20 years in a place like Nashville, you’re going to burn out so fast if you’re just trying to write hits. But if you can bring your heart to it and tap that ocean of inspiration and find your why, it can be more than just hits. It can be about the love of the craft, the love of learning your instrument, the love of melody and rhyme scheme and sonics and all of that. And then you continually go back to that place. That to me is a fire you can huddle around no matter where you are in your journey, whether you’ve never written a “hit” or you are on top of the mountain. I would say all of this to a 20-year-old, but I’m also saying it to myself on a daily basis because it’s a lifelong journey.

For more of Josh and his many musical endeavors, check out his Instagram.

INTERESTINGLY,

A few things worth checking out this week.

1. Ezra Klein + Brian Eno One of my favorite journalists interviews one of my favorite artists. Highly recommend this chat about art, music, ai and more.

2. The Last Ellis Island Ferry Fantastic profile by photographer Joshua Charow that focuses on an eccentric couple who have lived long, creative lives and now spend their waning days on the last Ellis Island ferry boat.

3. Wednesday - Bleeds I recently had the pleasure of running around East Nashville with the band Wednesday, for a GQ article by Marissa Moss. Their latest record Bleeds has been running in the studio all week. Here are the photos!

4. Doug Aitken - HOWL This piece is a few years old, but an absolute favorite video installation on placelessness, oil and American industry. Stunning use of film, voiceover, sound design and more.

5. Jesse Welles - In case you have not been paying attention, our world has been a mess. And nobody has been able to capture this constant barrage of insanity like Jesse Welles. I was lucky enough to host Jesse at the farmhouse for a New York Times profile, and have just loved watching him explode this year. Take a few minutes and check out the work of one of our most prescient voices.

UP NEXT,

We’re taking a quick jaunt to Colorado for the kid’s fall break after a busy busy September. Thanks to everyone who came out to the Sunnyside & Friends event this weekend in NYC… A huge turnout and wildly fun night. More on that soon…

Have a good week, turn off the news and go listen to some music.