julie dworman

July 13, 2010

How I started listening to Kevin Devine

I’m a big fan of music. I’ve spent more time listening to music than I have doing any other hobby or interest, even reading. My last.fm bio states, “I think pop music is the greatest thing in the world, and I’ll never change my mind about it.” I think I put that in a few years ago, and it’s still totally true. I have a pretty broad idea of what I consider to be pop music (to me stuff like rock, folk, indie is all included under “pop”). Another way to try to classify it is with use of the term “songwriting,” that unique blend of musical composition, poetry, and storytelling.

I used to buy CDs compulsively. I have about 500 CDs laying around, which I think is a lot when you consider they were mostly purchased when I was between the ages of 7 and 14. I had these huge CD leather books that I would carry around with me everywhere, and every time I got a new disc, I would fervently move everything around so they were perfectly alphabetized. When I traveled to Washington D.C. with my eighth grade class in the spring of 2004, I carried around about 200 of my CDs with me. When I was a freshman in high school, I carried anywhere from 5 to 15 CDs in my backpack every single day. Back then I was frequently sleep-deprived, and the wear and tear on all my CDs began to wear on me, and finally, I bought an iPod. And slowly, I stopped purchasing CDs. My parents stopped paying for my concert tickets, I didn’t have a job, and the money I’d received for my bat mitzvah was dwindling. And so I had to make a choice: concerts or CDs.

It was a slow process. The first time I went to New York City (fall of 2005), the thing I was most excited about was buying used CDs at music stores. I still think there’s something exciting about making a physical purchase of music. Holding something in your hand, remembering that there’s so much to be found in just one album, which is something that isn’t as easily visible when it appears to you as just one of a few thousand 12 song playlists in your iTunes library, from which you can tear and shuffle songs from with a few simple taps. But even so, purchasing a physical CD these days is my absolute last resort for acquiring music. Every few months I buy half a dozen CDs from Amazon, but usually because I’m getting stuff that’s too unpopular to be found anywhere else (for example, solo Aaron Sprinkle albums, music by songwriter Stephen Duffy, Dryve’s first album Hum, and a Japanese import of Fastball’s The Harsh Light of Day because it has the bonus track “Love Doesn’t Kill You”).

I’d like to digress from my personal music listening and purchasing history into a specific story of how I started listening to Kevin Devine. Instead of going on about how downloading music can be a really positive thing, here’s a story about how it has been a really positive thing.

Kevin Devine has been my most listened to artist for about 18 months now. The overall time I’ve spent listening to his music stretches back a few years earlier, but I didn’t get really into it until the beginning of 2009. Better late than never. I’m a big fan of Brand New, which is how I first heard of Kevin Devine. It’s hard to be a Brand New fan and not know who Kevin Devine is. I’d listened a few times to a few KD albums before a year ago, and I’d actually seen him 2 or 3 times as an opening act. I do remember really enjoying his set. But even so, for some reason or another, it just didn’t really click with me at the time. Like it is with any form of art, listening to music is a two-way street. If you’re not meeting anything halfway, the greatest record in the world will sound like nothing to you. And what we are ready to meet halfway today might very well be very different from what we will be ready to meet tomorrow.

As an avid listener of music, I sometimes have trouble finding something that really, really hits me. There’s so much that I like, but with everything I listen to, after a while, the initial magic eventually fades. That’s why it’s the initial magic. In my experience, the longer I listen, the more I enjoy stuff, and there’s more stuff I find that I enjoy. But it becomes harder to come by that feeling of complete euphoria and absorption in a song, album, or artist. I’ve heard a thousand well-written songs, but it takes something beyond “well-written” for a song to wow me and stop me in my tracks. I mean listening to an album a dozen times in a row and feeling like you’ve still only heard it once. Then taking a break for a day, and going back again, and everything sounds not just as new and amazing as the first time, but even better. This is what happens when you discover something that you know you’ll keep with you forever.

That’s how I felt with Kevin Devine. Feverish.

A blurry shot of Kevin performing in New Haven, CT a month ago

But let’s get back to how it unraveled. Kevin’s most recent full-length release, Brother’s Blood, leaked about two months early. It’s common and expected that albums will leak before their official date of release. When I know a record is coming out, one of the first thoughts I have is, “I wonder when it’s gonna leak.” But two months is a bit premature. I heard about the leak from one of my friends: she’d downloaded it, and scrobbled the tracks on her last.fm. Shortly after, she’d received a message from some folks at Favorite Gentlemen asking her to delete the album from her computer and stop listening to it, and to likewise spread the word. I don’t remember if they were especially cheeky, but they were rather upset about the entire ordeal. That’s something I do understand. In the past I have debated a lot internally about whether I think downloading music is morally sound, and by last spring, I was 100% decided that it was. It’s the industry that needs to change, and not the fans. I have a lot of respect for independent artists, and especially for the folks who run Favorite Gentlemen. But at the time I did feel like their anger about what happened was being taken out too much on the wrong people. So I think I downloaded the album, and left a slightly obnoxious post in Kevin Devine’s shoutbox on last.fm advertising that I had the CD, and offering to send it to anyone who wanted to listen. I got flamed a little, and rightfully; I was acting like a jerk. But I’ve been using the internet for years, and have sometimes been vocal and opinionated, and flaming happens sometimes. So it didn’t phase me much.

I actually didn’t send the album to anyone, and I didn’t even listen to it straight off. But the whole thing put that “Kevin Devine guy I’d seen touring with Jesse Lacey” on my radar, and on a whim I listened to his third album, Split the Country, Split the Streets, because I remembered enjoying that one a few years back. I’d like to say that it blew me away immediately, but as a record, it didn’t. It took time still. But “No Time Flat” stuck with me, and soonafter, so did, “Lord, I Know We Don’t Talk.” A month later it was all I wanted to listen to. Even now, there are some tracks on that record that don’t stand out to me; I have mixed feelings about “Afterparty” and about the mesh of Kevin Devine’s style with the feel of the typical 6/8 ballad in “Probably.” But there’s something about him that’s just completely captivating, even in those tracks that aren’t my favorites. I was sad that the subsequent Put Your Ghost to Rest didn’t live up to how great I thought Split was. But then that hit me too (along with his second release, Make the Clocks Move), and I felt the same disappointment in Brother’s Blood. Everything hit me so strongly that it fully shook my world every time I introduced a new album to my listening schedule. It was in the same way it was difficult for me to read An Acceptable Time by Madeleine L’Engle (which I still haven’t finished) because I couldn’t cope with seeing Meg Murry as an adult and not the young protagonist.

But a year and thousands of listens later, I’m positive that Brother’s Blood is one of the best examples of clear, timeless songwriting that I’ve ever heard. What I found with Kevin Devine was a feeling I thought I was doomed to never find again. Some people wear their feelings on their sleeves, and I wear my interests (or possibly both). The stuff that really gets me going does it so well that I explode with enthusiasm to nearly every person I converse with. Sometimes I fear that I participate in open, blatant gushing more than I do in any other form of talking. So, what I’m getting at is that most people who know me are aware that I’m a die-hard Barenaked Ladies fan. It’s been going on so long that it usually feels like an inherent part of my character as opposed to something that I acquired one day. Some of the best memories I have are of listening to their music. For years, listening to BNL was almost all I did, and it never, ever got old. It only got more exciting. I would sit down and listen to an album and thoroughly enjoy every single second of it. I’d listen five times in a row to the same album because I’d focus my listening on a different instrument each time around, and every time was a different experience. Nowadays, I don’t spend a lot of time listening to BNL. I don’t want to say it’s gotten old, but it’s true that as certain magics appear, others fade. As I get older, more songs speak to me in deeper ways, but there’s not as much for me to discover anymore. And I listen to so much music that I simply don’t have time to listen to a hundred BNL songs every day. (Still, I’ve never forgotten: the first and most primary reason that I decided to branch out and listen to “other” music was because I felt that I’d reached a point where the best way for me to appreciate BNL’s music more was to try to appreciate where it was they were coming from, and I’ve only branched out further from there.)

Moving on, I’ve fallen in love with lots of bands in the past decade. But the further along I get in age and listening, the less frequent it is that I get totally immersed in something for a long period of time. Before I got really hooked on Kevin Devine, I thought I’d never find another band or artist that I was that into. That I’d want to listen to over and over again for year, or that I’d want to see in concert as many times as I could afford. Becoming a Kevin Devine fan was a hugely important event in my life. If you asked me to spout off the most important things to happen in my life in 2009, I’d immediately respond with three things: listening to Kevin Devine, my babysitting job, and rock-climbing. More importantly than giving me something to sing along to, Kevin Devine gave me something to get truly excited, inspired, and passionate about. Kevin Devine’s music gave me a place to feel truly alive, and a way to rediscover myself as well as the world around me. And all that is something I might have never found had not Brother’s Blood leaked the way it did.

I’m certain that I’ll be following Kevin Devine more closely than any other artist I listen to for years to come. And I think I’m a good fan for an artist to have. Once I’m hooked, I’ll purchase every release; hunt down every b-side, EP, 7″ I can find; see your show as many nights as I can travel to; buy your t-shirts; recommend you endlessly to every person I meet; and always come again next time (for some examples, I’ve seen Barenaked Ladies 30+ times, and been to dozens of Guster concerts, and seven seems like a sheepishly small number to me when I reflect that that’s how many times I’ve seen Kevin Devine). There are some artists you like to see once in concert, and some that you want to see again and again. For me, Kevin Devine is one of the artists in the second group. There are artists who think what they do is about making music, and others who know that it really boils down to connecting to people. When Kevin Devine takes the stage, he does it as a friendly face, not as a fabricated image of the art he’s created. Kevin, when I started listening to your music, I spent zero dollars on your CDs. But in the past month, I’ve seen your concert 3 times, and spent $90 on your merchandise. And to me, that’s only the beginning.

A shot of me with Kevin at one of his recent shows