Q&A with Singer/Songwriter Hannah Miller by Jasper Intern Erika Ryan

Hannah Miller 0612 b After finishing college in 2003, Hannah Miller moved to Columbia for a band that ended up breaking up, but that didn’t stop her from pursuing her music career.

She decided it was time to go solo, and she’s being doing it ever since. She ended up staying in Columbia for seven years, but in December of 2010, Miller moved to Nashville, where she currently lives and works.

Her self-named umbrella genre “pop/folk/soul” was relatively isolated in Columbia, but settled nicely into the Nashville scene. Miller is known in the folk community for her bluesy, singer-songwriter sound paired with her charming voice, and has released several albums and singles over the last 12 years, including her 2008 debut LP Into the Black and a trio of polished EPs that followed her move to Music City.

Miller is currently experiencing a surprising flood of interest thanks to a viral video created by filmmaker Danny Cooke that used one of Miller’s new songs, “Promise Land,” to soundtrack drone footage taken of Chernobyl and the abandoned city of Pripyat, Ukraine. The video got an airing on 60 Minutes and has since gone on to get over 2 million views. “Promise Land” is available on iTunes now, but will also be on her new album, which she’s taking pre-orders for at her website here.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oNV5Sq28Mp4

On Saturday, March 7th, Miller is set to play at Music Farm Columbia with her fellow Nashville-based and Soda City ex-pat Patrick Davis. Jasper was able to catch up with Hannah Miller and chat a bit about starting her career in Columbia, how the industry has treated her, and what she’s up to now.

Jasper: Can you tell me a little bit about your experience in Columbia when you first got into the music business solo?

Hannah Miller: Well, I was very young and inexperienced — I was just starting out, I had no idea what I was doing. Columbia was a really respective, welcoming place for me to start, I think. I remember sending the Free Times my very homemade demo that I made on my computer—that sounded awful—and they actually reviewed it and said nice things about it.

It was a great place for me to grow. There was a welcoming vibe about it — no one was snobby, I wasn’t looked down upon for just being a beginner. So, I’ve always appreciated that. I would just take my guitar and travel around to open mics and coffee shops around Columbia. It was a good place to be for traveling easily — Charlotte, Atlanta, Charleston are all right around there.

I’ve always thought it was a good thing that I started there.

Jasper: How is the community support for folk musicians in Columbia? What was it like starting out in that genre?

Hannah Miller: I felt like it was pretty supportive. I mean, it’s on a very small scale compared to Nashville because there were just not as many people doing it, so sometimes I felt a little isolated. No one was really doing that — none of my friends were really musicians in Columbia. But as far as the people that were doing it, I found it really supportive, and not competitive or anything.

I remember going to the South Carolina Musicians Guild, so that was a great community I got plugged into. I always felt accepted, and not judged. The only negative for me was the amount of people doing it — there weren’t that many.

Jasper: Do you feel connected to the music community in Columbia now, if at all? How do you think it has changed over the years?

Hannah Miller: I can’t say that I really feel connected anymore. I don’t know who’s playing anymore. I used to recognize names, knew them personally or at least had met whoever was playing, and now when I’m traveling through, and I hear who’s playing, I hardly ever recognize who it is or have met them.

I feel like it’s grown since I lived there, but I don’t know if that’s a matter of it being a different class of people. I don’t know if it’s growing, or if it’s different people doing it.

I feel like when I was there it was a little better of a time for venues, or places to play. Since I’ve been gone, it seems like a lot of places have closed, like the White Mule, I loved playing there.

As far as the listening room type of environments I like to play, it didn’t seem as hard to find, when I was in Columbia, to find places to play as it is now, trying to go back.

I’m excited that Music Farm is a new venue in Columbia, and I hope that my music will be better received there. I just feel like it’s kind of been a struggle, because it was going strong there for a while and now a lot of venues closed down and it feels like there’s no where to play.

Jasper: What has it been like climbing the popularity ladder? Was there any specific moment where you felt as if you “made it”?

Hannah Miller: No, [Laughs] not really. I don’t know who said this quote, but it was something like “No success is permanent, and no failure is permanent,” and I feel like that’s very true in music. If you think, “Oh, people are paying attention,” it goes away very quickly — then you could think, “Ugh, this sucks, nobody cares,” or no one came to your show or something, but that’s not permanent either. For me, it’s just up and down.

The biggest thing, recently, this video used a song of mine, and it went viral with millions of views. It was just kind of like, “Cool, this is happening!” Even then, I just never trust in that place of feeling successful, because it’s probably going to go away and I’ll have a time when it’s quiet and not much is going on.

I don’t feel like there’s ever a “made it” place — there’s making it, then not making it, then making it again… you know. I feel like it you go to a place where Bono and U2 is, you could say, “yeah, I’ve made it.” [Laughs] But for independent artists like me, it is just moments of success and glory, followed by moments of failure and depression.

Jasper: [Laughs] Well, I guess that’s true. How does Nashville’s arts scene compare to a smaller, less music-centric city arts scene like Columbia?

Hannah Miller: Nashville is just great — on one level, you don’t feel like a weirdo anymore. All your friends are musicians, they know what you’re going though, and they don’t look at you weird when you tell them you’re a singer-songwriter. [Laughs] Everybody’s doing it, everybody understands the struggle of it, and that’s cool.

And on the other hand, you could be in town and working. Versus in Columbia, I would always have to travel and book shows outside of Columbia, because there’s just not that many opportunities to play in town, other than just playing cover gigs at a bar, which I didn’t really want to do. So if you wanted regular work, you have to book shows and travel.

I just had a baby last year, so I had to cut back on traveling. So, it’s a great place to be if you want to focus on songwriting and recording, but you can play all over Nashville all the time if you want to, too. It’s just such a huge scene, and the audiences aren’t going to overlap that much, because there are a lot of tourists. You’re always playing for different people, so you’re not necessarily burning out your welcome, even if you play at the same venue every night.

Those things I’ve found to be really great about Nashville. There’s so much going on, so even if you’re not doing it, you still feel like you’re in the middle of it — your friends are doing it, they’re doing cool things and you can live vicariously through them. There’s a lot of music going on, so it’s kind of a cool vibe here.

Jasper: What brought you back to Columbia for your show in March? Was it just by chance?

Hannah Miller: Yeah, that was just my friend Patrick Davis — he invited me to play with him. We’ve done some shows together and he’s really great, so I always try and say yes when he invites me to play, so that’s what brought me back this time.

I’ve tried to play [in Columbia] once or twice a year, to try and stay connected a little bit to my home base.

I haven’t been back that much — this will be my first show in Columbia for a while, I think, maybe even a couple years. I don’t know, I can’t remember the last time I played in Columbia, which is crazy. [Laughs]

Jasper: So how does it feel to come back and perform here? Is there a sentimental aspect to it?

Hannah Miller: I mean, a little bit. It feels—I don’t know—different. When I first moved away and I would come back to play, it would feel like some kind of homecoming — a show with a bunch of friends that I hadn’t seen in a while. So when you’ve been gone for five years, it’s kind of changed. More people I don’t recognize will be at the show. It’s not as much about, “Aw, my friends are here” and playing music for fans, more than just old friends.

But, we can still get some old friends to come to the show, and that’s cool. I also love being able to come and eat at old places that I miss. [Laughs] So I guess it is a bit like a homecoming.

-Jasper Intern Erika Ryan

Q&A with Singer/Songwriter and South Carolina Native Marshall Chapman

DSC7581 One of the advantages of having Lee Smith as our One Book, One Columbia author is she has a lot of cool friends—like South Carolina native Marshall Chapman, one of the state’s most significant musical figures of the last 40 years. Chapman has been a songwriter and performer in Nashville since the 1970s, and her songs have found their way on albums by Jimmy Buffett, Emmylou Harris, and Joe Cocker, among others, and she also has 13 solo albums of her own. Of those, the most recent two, Big Lonesome (2010) and Blaze of Glory (2013), represent some of the finest work of her career. These albums come on the heels of Chapman’s turn to prose—her two critically-acclaimed and award-winning memoirs, Goodbye Little Rock and Roller (2003) and They Came to Nashville (2010), both books which demonstrated a life lived hard and well. In recent years Chapman has also written for such publications as Oxford American, Nashville Arts Magazine, Garden & Gun, and Southern Living.

This is all in addition to her collaboration with Smith, Jill McCorkle, and Matraca Berg, Good Ole Girls, a musical play which has toured throughout the South and had a brief run off-Broadway. Chapman will be performing songs from that play with Smith and McCorkle at 701 Whaley this Thursday, February 26th as part of the closing party for this year’s One Book festivities. Chapman will also be playing a show on Wednesday, May 13th, at Conundrum Music Hall.

Jasper caught up with Chapman recently to chat about her long history in the musical world and late-career renaissance.

Jasper: Blaze of Glory was one of the best-reviewed albums of your career. Do you think you could have imagined 30 or 40 years ago that you would still be making great music?

Marshall Chapman: No, not really. Mainly because I never thought I'd live this long. (laughs)

J: How has the songwriting process changed over the years?

MC: I don't chase it like I used to. These days, I just let the songs come to me.

J: Did you have any specific goals or ideas in mind when you were writing for this record?

MC: Not really. But I knew I was onto something. At first, I thought it was going to be this sexy record. I even had a working title—Sexagenarian. But then it deepened into the whole mortality thing. As soon as I finished "Blaze of Glory," [the song] I knew it would be the title of the album. And also the last song you hear.

J: These songs all feel really fresh, even though it's still very much the sound and style you were working in during the 1970s and 1980s. The straight-up Bo Diddley take on “Love in the Wind” and the soulful rendition of “Nearness of You,” for instance, sound like reinvigorated takes on classic territory.  Why do you think that is?

MC: Oh, I don't know. I was working with producers and co-producers back in the 70s and 80s. I didn't really know that much about making records. I was like Gidget goes to Nashville and gets a Record Deal. But with these last two [Blaze of Glory and Big Lonesome], I was much more focused. Probably because I'm older. It's like ... Last call to get it right! I've been doing this a long time. And it's taken every bit of that time to learn how to trust myself in the studio.

J: You didn’t tour as much behind this record as Big Lonesome, and you’ve become more of a writer, actor, and collaborator (like on Good Ol’ Girls) in recent years. How does that balance work? Has the lack of touring affected your ability to promote your music?

Well, there's a personal reason I didn't tour as much behind this album as with Big Lonesome. Let's just say all the wheels supporting my life came off all at once and leave it at that. As for "lack of touring" affecting my "ability to promote" my music, those two things are pretty much entwined. Nothing gets the word out like a live performance. But it's true. I'm cutting back on live performances.

As for the rest, I've always enjoyed writing prose, so writing the two books felt pretty natural. I've always been interested in the stories behind songs. Especially when the stories are better than the songs!

The idea for Good Ol' Girls was conceived by songwriter Matraca Berg. Matraca called me out of the blue one day, saying she wanted to do a musical with me and Lee Smith. She was a big fan of Lee's writing, but she didn't know her. So I called Lee, since I knew her from when she lived in Nashville in the 1970s. At first Lee didn't seem interested. But then she called me back saying she was in and that she was bringing in Jill McCorkle and a director! [Paul Fergusen, who ended up doing the

adaptation.] The show has toured the South and even had a run off-Broadway. It's playing in a couple of theaters this spring. But this week at 701 Whaley, Lee, Jill and I will be doing our own version of Good Ol' Girls. And probably throw in some new stuff. I never really know what's gonna happen when the three of us get together. But I can assure you this -- something will happen! It's outrageous whenever the three of us get together. Why we haven't been arrested is beyond me.

As for acting, I've done three movies in the past three years—all since turning sixty-two. Maybe the Universe is trying to tell me something.

J: You’ve lived in Nashville for a long time (since you matriculated at Vanderbilt?). What does being from South Carolina mean to you now? What’s it like coming back for tours?

MC: Where you come from ... it stays with you. Especially if you're from South Carolina! Seriously, it's always special coming back to South Carolina to perform. I was in Spartanburg a lot this past fall dealing with the death of my mom. I was driving around there thinking, Hmmmm, maybe I could come back and live here! I even looked at some property off St. John Street.

J: You’ve written two award-winning non-fiction books about your life, Goodbye, Little Rock and Roller and They Came to Nashville. Any plans for a third, either fiction or non-fiction?

MC: Well, I've been writing a monthly column called "Beyond Words" for a Nashville magazine for nearly five years. They told me I could write about anything I wanted, and I imagine I've taken them to task on that. (laughs) Anyway, I'm thinking about putting a collection of those [essays] in a book. As for a novel ... I've had a few stories published, so I've danced around fiction. But the idea of writing an entire novel like Lee and Jill do all the time terrifies me. Which means I'll probably do it one day.

J: The record closes with the title track, which is a kind of uplifting take on mortality, almost like a gospel song. You also recount the most pivotal moment of your life, seeing Elvis as a 7 year-old in the song. Can you tell me a little bit about the idea and inspiration behind that tune?

MC: I wrote the first verse to that song while sitting at my breakfast table. I had a feeling it might be a keeper, so I captured just that little bit on a little recorder. A few weeks later, I returned to it and immediately wrote a second verse. And then a bridge about Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin and a few other musical heroes who died young, i.e., in a blaze of glory. But something wasn't right. It felt forced. So I went for a walk, and when I got back, I started from from scratch. I just went back to where it all began—seeing Elvis. As soon as I wrote "that colored balcony came crashing to the floor," I'm thinking, Now what! I mean, you don't want to raise the bar too high. So I got real quiet. And then that last verse about the sun just landed on the page. "Blaze of Glory" wrote itself. All I had to do was get out of the way.

For more information about Marshall Chapman and the latest updates about her various projects, check out tallgirl.com