Lisa Gatewood: Press

Peter Mulvey and Lisa Gatewood
By Jon Anne Willow

Sitting across from Peter Mulvey in a sunny Tosa cafe, Lisa Gatewood is all smiles. A budding singer-songwriter with her first full-length CD (I’ve Read Salinger) out this month, Lisa is just beginning to build her local fan base and figure out the logistics of playing shows more than five miles from her house. Peter is a venerated road warrior of 15 years and 11 records, an artist known internationally for his honey-coated gravel voice, acoustic guitar virtuosity and grab-you-by-the-guts lyrics. In fact, he tours so much that many of his local fans don’t even know he is born, raised and continues to live in Milwaukee.

So it’s not surprising that Lisa was a little nervous in advance of their meeting; Peter is undeniably living the dream. She’s smiling now because, having never met him, she didn’t know Peter was so nice. They chat easily about his upcoming Wisconsin tour, for which he will travel entirely by bicycle with only a small trailer for his guitar and underwear. Finally, the conversation turns to how each of their careers has evolved and how times have changed.

“I started playing out (locally) in 1990 with Big Sky,” begins Peter. “We played all the time – maybe 15 times a month – at L.A. Freeway, Brett’s, Hooligan’s, The Celebrity Club. We opened for Pamela Means and Willy Porter a lot.”

“Weren’t you afraid of being overexposed?” asks Lisa.

“Well, when you start playing and nobody knows who you are, you can’t really be overexposed,” Peter replies. But Lisa disagrees. This may be one area where things are different today than when Peter was coming up.

“Overexposure is a huge issue now,” Lisa counters. “I can only play in town two weeks a month. I’m not worried about overexposing myself on the internet or with promotion, but if I play two weeks in a row, hardly anybody will come to that second show.”

It’s also tougher for solo acts now, they agree, because bookers want bands, which are perceived to draw better because each member will bring a few friends. And there is no shortage of bands to choose from.

“I think it’s more accessible to be in a band now, and it’s easier to get gigs through the internet,” Lisa asserts. “Plus you don’t need a label to make a record, so even if it’s really crappy, some girl from your high school will think you’re cool and want to get on you.”

Peter laughs. “Also, it’s so easy to go to Guitar Center and buy a cheap instrument. You don’t have to save up anymore, you can just do it.”

“I think a lot of kids still have the idea that they can get discovered and have all this financial success,” adds Lisa, “but that’s not realistic.” Both agree that anyone who wants something outside a normal career path has to work much harder, and more consistently, than at any job.

Peter, however, is optimistic. “I think actually it’s sort of come full circle. Prior to widespread recording, the value of a musician was in ‘how good is your song?’ Then in the ‘30’s the focus shifted to whether you had a recording and stayed that way until recently. Now, everyone has a record, a label, a website. It’s paved the way for artists like Regina Spektor, Imogen Heap or Joanna Newsom, whose music is really interesting but who probably never would have gotten a label deal in the old system.”

The conversation turns to women in music. Lisa is encouraged that women don’t necessarily have to sell themselves as sexy first anymore.

Peter agrees. “What’s happened is that women have sort of reclaimed the right to sell their own bodies however they see fit. Madonna started it by taking control of her image. She was still selling her body, but she was doing it her own way and reaping the benefits. The real estate is the same, but the landlord is different. The distinction, I think, is subtle but important.”

As the conversation winds to a close, Peter is asked for any advice he would offer Lisa as an artist who wants to make it her full-time avocation, but he declines.

“You don’t need any advice, you’re doing it. Make records, play gigs. That’s what you’re doing. If you’re any good at it, someday someone will see you and say ‘I could book her a little further out.’ And it goes from there.”

Lisa Gatewood’s CD release party for I’ve Read Salinger is October 19 at Linneman’s. Peter will release a retrospective, Notes from Elsewhere, in November.

Lisa Gatewood recalls one particularly fruitful open mic appearance two years ago at the Bremen Café.

"That night ended up being a big break in the business for me," Gatewood says. "It turns out that night they were auditioning for the Chick Singer Night series, by Alaria Taylor, and I was invited to play. Somebody at Bremen Café also booked me to return as a featured artist another night, and somebody from WMSE's Sunday night women's radio show ["Female Focus"] also discovered me. It all just kind of worked out."

Gatewood's marathon networking was particularly impressive given that, until that night, she'd never performed in public before.

"It was nerve-wracking because I was used to just playing for one or two friends in my living room," she recalls, "but the experience gave me the sign that music was something I was supposed to pursue.

"Of course, nothing since then has happened nearly as quick," the 25-year-old laughs. "Now it's all a little more work."

Countless open mics later, this week Gatewood releases her debut CD, I've Read Salinger, an aching folk-pop album she recorded with guests from the Milwaukee music scene she's befriended over the years, including blues guitarist Matt Hendricks, Love Monkeys guitarist Keith Pulvermacher, Violent Femmes drummer Victor DeLorezno and kindred spirit singer-songwriter Heidi Spencer.

The guests often lend a scorching, rock edge to already dim songs about seclusion and insecurity. Directly or indirectly, almost every song deals with retreat, either from relationships or from home. On "Move to Carolina," [Gatewood] weighs fleeing to another state. When those plans don't materialize, she looks longingly at a cardboard box and laments, "there's no room to crawl inside." "I've Read Salinger," the title track that closes the album, captures an emotional retreat, a summer Gatewood spent buried in J.D. Salinger's books following the death of a friend.

"Writing honest songs is the most important thing to me," Gatewood says. "When I write a song, it's probably going to be personal and address something that I wouldn't talk about in any format other than a song."

Many of the guests from Gatewood's album will join her for the CD release party on Friday, Oct. 19, at Linneman's Riverwest Inn. Pulvermacher and Spencer will each perform opening sets, and Gatewood, who normally goes solo, will play part of her set backed by a three-piece band that includes Hendricks. The show begins at 9:30 p.m.

Lisa Gatewood: Milwaukee's Folk Singing Diva!
By Tango Diva

Sure, it's great to read the latest tidbits about Madonna and Mariah and Beyonce. But oftentimes, the biggest inspirations come from reading about upcoming, about-to-bust-out Divas fiercely battling the world, hustling to harness their dreams. Of course long journeys begin with a first step, but how many more of us will take it having heard from a brave, on-the-front-lines artist as fabulous as Lisa Gatewood?

That's why Tango Diva is proud to introduce you to this Wisconsin woman—a phenomenal singer whom TD Editor Stephanie Block first met up in Door County, that gorgeous peninsula (a Midwest Hamptons!) outside Green Bay. Just last year, Lisa came out with her first album: "I've Read Salinger". Viva Debuting Divas!

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1. How does it feel to have a debut album under your belt?

A lot different than I thought it would. The whole time I was working on it I kept saying to Tony Scholl (my producer) that this was probably going to be the only album I ever make, so I wanted it to be perfect. But as soon as it was done I immediately started thinking about the next one. Now it feels like a really important stepping stone.

You can't make twenty-five albums if you don't make the first one. I feel really lucky and accomplished because one album is further than most people get, but I know I still have a long way to go in this journey.

2. How would you classify your music, and what great musical inspirations have led you to this point?

I tell people I play "folk music." Today there are so many genres and sub-genres that it's hard to categorize anything. I grew up listening to a lot of blues at my dad's house and a lot of musicals at my mom's house. I find that my storytelling seems to be inspired by those genres.

In high school my friend Lindsay played me Joni Mitchell and Ani DiFranco for the first time and I think that began to develop my sound and mood. Currently I take a lot of influence from folk-ish songwriters like Damien Rice, Rufus & Martha Wainwright, Leonard Cohen and of course Bob Dylan.

I'm also really lucky to live in a city with some of the most phenomenal singer/songwriters I've ever heard. Heidi Spencer, another local with two albums to her name, is one of my favorite singers of all time. I am always inspired by her whether we share a stage or a cup of coffee.

3. What is your creative process?

I keep a notebook with lines, phrases and rhymes that I like. I can tell it's time to sit down and write the song when a line or a story begins nagging me, tugging on a place in my chest that makes me feel heavy between my lungs (like a child begging to be looked at).

My actual writing process is down to a science: I get my guitar (a beautiful acoustic Gretsch), a notebook & my dictaphone and I retire to my room. I write best in bed, especially late at night and early in the morning. I turn on my dictaphone and start playing and singing--if something pops out at me I play it back and write it down.

It's a lot of trial and error, which is why I write alone. Not everything that comes out is pretty--maybe about 30%. You can't be afraid of sounding bad or you'd never start. Sometimes I write a little and let it go for a day or two--sometimes I finish a whole song in 10 minutes. It all depends.

4. Did you like the Salinger you've read?

I’ve read the four Salinger novels that are currently available and loved every word of them. There is a lot that hasn’t been published, but hopefully will be someday. J.D. Salinger is still alive, allegedly still writing, but completely reclusive and not publishing anything.

For me, Salinger represents so much. He is this amazingly powerful entity that appears, changes everything and then fades away—disappears—much like the person for whom I wrote "I’ve Read Salinger". I also find his stories entirely moving and sad and artistically inspiring.

I think his character of Seymour Glass was my biggest literary crush (followed closely by Aslan, the lion in C.S. Lewis’ Narnia Chronicles). To this day when I read Seymour’s story, "Perfect Day for Bananafish", in Nine Stories, I am overwhelmed with emotion. (Incidentally Nine Stories is my top recommendation for a book to read while you travel.)

5. California, Carolina, Arizona...you sound like a travelin' Diva. How have your travels come through on this album?

Growing up as one of three kids to a single mother you wind up spending a lot of your vacations in the back seat of an old Buick, camping your way through the countryside. I probably couldn't tell you much about state facts or history, but I can tell you about the lay of the land—how each region makes me feel.

To me, evoking a state name is concrete enough to help the listener relate, but there is also something very visual and emotional about each one. I know what Carolina means to me, it'll mean something different to everyone who listens to it, but it's a common ground for us all to start from. It gives the song a context. The listener might not know how far away I am from California, but they can sense how far it feels.

I'm hoping my next album will have some foreign territories added to the song titles, like "Living in Rome" or "Love in the Louvre". I'll write it off as research.

6. How do you feel when you sing?

I really love singing, but I won't lie to you, sometimes it feels like a lot of work. Just like with any job, no matter how much you love it, there are days when you just don't feel like working. But the voice is a muscle and the more you use it, the easier it gets. Singing at a show is also a lot different than when I sing at home. There are songs that when I sing them at home I just cry the whole way through. It is such a cathartic release.

7. Was it tough to get a record deal?

I actually don't have a record deal yet. That's the next step. I financed this album myself, which was stressful but also really empowering. Since it was my money I wasn't afraid to call the shots and to speak up when I wanted something.

8. What is one of the best gigs you ever played?

My CD release party last year. It was at a local venue here in Milwaukee called Linneman's Riverwest Inn. My friend Keith Pulvermacher opened the show, then Heidi Spencer & The Rare Birds played a set.

At about 11:30pm I took the stage with my band and said into the microphone, "Thanks for sticking around" (which I generally say, because you're just so thankful that people stayed to hear you.) And my guitarist, Matt Hendricks said, "They came to see you!" and I thought, "Oh my goodness, they DID!"

It was so humbling to release this album out into the world surrounded by my friends and family and other musicians who had worked so hard on it with me. Everything felt good that night. I'm sure I'll have bigger audiences and better performances in the future, but I don't think I'll ever have a show that feels as good as that one did.

9. Where do you go from here?

It's all about getting noticed. I feel like I’ve built a good base in Milwaukee, but now it’s about reaching other regions, getting signed to a label and most importantly getting this album heard by anyone who will listen.

I'm currently submitting the album to record labels, trying to get a manager and possibly a booking agent. Being an unsigned artist means you are a one-woman office. My apartment is cluttered with CD's and mailing envelopes and photo copies of articles and publicity photos.

I'm hoping to put together a small tour for this coming summer. It's a lot of work, but it feels so good to be actively pursuing what I love. For a long time I sat around waiting to be noticed; now it's time to try something else. The album really helps with that—it's a very expensive calling card that says, "Here's what I can do." And I think it's pretty good.

10. Please tell us more about yourself and your debut album—secrets, stories, and more behind the music and the artist! What else do we HAVE to know about you and your music?

–It’s sometimes surprising to me how honest I can be when I write my songs. When I wrote "The Black Coat Song" I remember thinking, "I can never play this in public!" It was so blunt. It felt like laying my heart on display for everyone to see. I especially worried that the person I wrote it about would hear it and know it was about him.

Before that song my work was a safe thing to hide behind. It was not exactly cryptic, but I could always claim it was about someone else: I was "playing a part" on stage. Singing "The Black Coat Song" felt like being naked in public. It was terrifying to be that vulnerable. After I finally began performing it, I found that more people connected to that song than any other. What felt so personal to me was something that so many other people could relate to.

Now I attempt to reach that level of vulnerability in all my songs. I have always loved music. When I look back at any important moment in my life, there is a song attached to the memory. I love the idea that I’m writing songs now that will be attached to other people’s memories.

–I learned a trick from my very talented friend, Madison, Wisconsin actress Jodi Cohen: I kept a photo of myself as a little girl in the binder I took to the studio every day while recording "I've Read Salinger". Whenever I would start telling myself that I was terrible or untalented or ugly or boring... or whatever else I could think to call myself (I've said them all), I would take out that picture and I would ask myself, "Would I ever tell that little girl that she was untalented? Would I tell her that she should quit? Would I tell her that no one cares what she has to say?"

The answer is NO. And I think it's a good reminder to ourselves that we all have places inside where we are very fragile. We need to be kind to ourselves. I am so thankful to Jodi for that piece of advice. It got me through a lot of really sticky spots.

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