The Third Story Podcast With Leo Sidran

No matter what Richard Julian is doing, he “just wants it to be awesome”. As a songwriter, he says he was arrogant before he probably deserved to be, and in fact that it “took years to get beaten into the submission of humility.” That may be so, but along the way he wrote some pretty fantastic songs. His album Slow New York (2006) helped to put him on the map and place him squarely in the center of the musical scene from which Norah Jones had emerged a few years earlier. In fact he and Jones still have a country band together, The Little Willies. But, as he tells it, he was already 15 years into a music career by then, a veritable veteran of the New York songwriter scene, a practiced in the art of “making something out of nothing, taking blood from a stone”, which is how he describes songwriting. So maybe it was just a matter of time before Julian decided he needed to step away from the city he sang about so often, and disappear into the Bywater in New Orleans. Pretty soon he was writing songs like “Die in No

Just when you think you know all there is to know about Donald Fagen, he surprises you. There are legendary stories, traded like playing cards in chat rooms, fanzines, and merch lines. Along with his musical partner, the late Walter Becker (who passed away in 2017), Fagen has influenced countless musicians, producers and songwriters by setting the gold standard in record production and arrangement with his band Steely Dan. This is known. There are the solo records, including The Nightfly, which was nominated for seven Grammys and which continues to be one of the best sounding records ever made nearly 30 years on. This is known. Much is known about Donald Fagen and his work, it’s true. But much is still left to be revealed. Stage fright, a general aversion to appearing on television (he and Becker lacked the "large heads" and “swaths of cheek” that they felt necessary to really make it on the small screen), and nearly 20 years with no touring created a mystique that endures to this day, despite the fact that t

As a younger man Joey Dosik thought he might make a contribution on the saxophone. He loved playing basketball and playing piano too, and he had a sweet, soulful singing voice. But if you asked him he probably would have told you that he was going to be a jazz sax player. That’s what took him out of LA and to the University of Michigan.  Sometimes the stars align and the right people show up in the right place at just the right time. Later on we realize that something special was going on, but in the initial moment it’s just what’s happening. In Joey’s case, he ended up at Michigan with a cohort of other talented, multifaceted musicians (former Third Story guest Theo Katzman, for example). Somewhere along the line, he realized that he needed to sing!  Today Joey is best known for the soulful, romantic songs that he sings with the band Vulfpeck as well as on his solo recordings (he released both Game Winner and Inside Voice in 2018). His Game Winner project ended up merging his two great loves, music and baske

Singer, songwriter and pianist Ben Thornewill started his band, Jukebox The Ghost, with two friends in 2003 when he was in college at George Washington University. “From day one we were just kind of making it up,” he says. He adds “It’s the same three members from the very beginning and everything is a series of great compromises.” Not that there’s anything wrong with that. He says, “It tends out to work out to something that defines who we are.” The power pop trio features piano, guitar, and drums. Their songs are clever, catchy, poppy, joyful, sometimes dramatic, and often tinged with elements of classical and even musical theater. As he tells it, “We are the exception to the rule because we have all been making a living as a band for over a decade...there’s only three of so we don’t have to pay for a bass player. A bass player would have bankrupted us a long time ago.” I met Ben earlier this year during the first of a series of solo shows he was doing, alone at the piano. He made a point from the stage of

When the 73 year old performer Andre De Shields accepted his Tony award last night for his role as Hermes in the hit Broadway show Hadestown, he began with these words: “Baltimore, Maryland are you in the house? I hope you’re watching at home because I am making good on my promise that I would come to New York and become someone you’d be proud to call your native son.” In this conversation, recorded in 2014, he tells the story in detail about growing up in Baltimore (he calls himself “lucky number nine”), a career spanning five decades “on the precipice of the abyss” (i.e. as a performer) and the secret to his longevity: “I exercise vigorously, I eat judiciously, and I pray constantly.” The interview originally appeared as Episode 12. Visit http://www.third-story.com/episode-index to hear that and all the other episodes with members of the creative class. Thanks for listening. If you enjoyed it, please leave a review on iTunes and consider supporting the podcast on Patreon! And now you can also listen to the

Eli Reed took a trip. It started in a Boston suburb with a cheap suit and a paperboy cap. He took his suit, cap and guitar to Clarksdale, Mississippi. He stayed there just long enough to become a local musician. They called him “Paperboy” because of the cap. Then he headed up to Chicago and pretended to study sociology at the University of Chicago. While he was pretending to study, what he was really doing was looking for old records to play on his radio show, and becoming the minister of music at a church on the south side. After a while, he went back to Boston. Then he turned 21. What was it like to be a Jewish suburban kid living in the deep south, playing in black church in Chicago, singing soul music? Eli tells me “The juke joints and the black church are the most accepting and welcoming places I’ve ever been. They loved having me there because I wanted to be there and I loved them.”  In his early 20s. Eli “Paperboy” Reed started making records that sounded like they could be from another era. He wrote s

If Melissa Clark is in your life already, then she needs little introduction. Maybe you have one of the 40+ cookbooks that she has authored. Maybe you’ve made one of the recipes from her New York Times column “A Good Appetite”, watched one of her cooking videos online, seen her on the Today Show, as a guest judge on Iron Chef America, or heard her as a guest host on The Splendid Table radio show. If you’re one of these people, then you may already consider Melissa Clark to be a kind of honorary member of your family already, someone who helps you decide what to eat (and when), how to prepare it, and why you should feel good about it..because you can do it. Or maybe, like me, you don’t really cook very much. Maybe, like me, you only recently discovered the creativity, assurance and enthusiasm of Melissa Clark when your wife went to India for three weeks and left you in charge of feeding yourself and your child. Maybe you had a small breakthrough while watching Melissa demonstrate one of her recipes in an onlin

Anya Marina was the hottest DJ on the hottest radio station in San Diego. She had a natural, direct and conversational way of talking on the mic that made her a perfect fit for FM radio, she was a witty improviser, and she was fearless in the face of celebrity. Plus from an early age, she loved comedy and had even considered a career in comedic acting. She could see her life laid out ahead of her. The only problem was, it wasn’t the life she wanted. So she walked away from her career in radio for the career she knew she needed: music, what else? She started releasing her songs independently before signing with Chop Shop, a label that specialized in finding high profile syncs for their artists in an era before “sync” was a word people in the business really thought about. Her music, intelligent, infectious and hooky songwriting delivered with delicious restraint, found its way to popular TV shows and movies including Grey’s Anatomy, Twilight: New Moon, and Gossip Girl. She moved. From San Diego to LA. Then she

Sophie Auster grew up in a house of writers (her father is Paul Auster, and her mother is Siri Hustvedt, both acclaimed authors). For Sophie, the creative process always “was quite normal”. As she saw it, “artists are everywhere.”  So it was somewhat inevitable that she began a creative career when she was a child, first as an actress, then as a singer and songwriter. Her latest record, Next Time took her to Sweden to work with producer Tore Johansson. Sophie describes the songwriting on the project as an exercise in “archetypes of men and women depicted in the culture.” We met recently to talk about what it was like to grow up in a literary household, starting her career at a young age, confronting and overcoming insecurity, holding herself to a high standard, and what it means to be a “jewegian”. Thanks for listening. If you enjoyed it, please leave a review on iTunes and consider supporting the podcast on Patreon! And now you can also listen to the podcast on Spotify!

Kassa Overall will tell you, “I love being the first thing of a thing. It’s one of my favorite things.” Kassa will also tell you that grew up in the cut. Between two kinds of music. Between two neighborhoods, in Seattle, that were “actually divided and separated”. He related more to the black neighborhood that he lived in, but he went to school mostly with white kids. “Looking back on it now I realize we’re all from the same stuff” but at the time it felt like he was in the middle of two worlds. In fact, Kassa Overall will tell you a lot of things. That’s because Kassa Overall is a lot of things. Drummer. Rapper. Producer. Taker of cold showers. As a drummer, he says “I had the old cat thing. Even though I was a young cat, I had something on drums that none of the other young cats had.” That’s how early on he caught the attention and found work performing with a formidable list of artists, including Christian McBride, Donald Byrd, Vijay Iyer, Wallace Roney, Ravi Coltrane, Gary Bartz, and many more. He also sp

Guitarist Cory Wong wants you to know that “smooth-jazz” is not a dirty word. At least not as he sees it. That’s why he started referring to himself as the “millennial smooth jazz ambassador”. Cory comes from Minneapolis and got his start working with many of the great Minneapolis funk musicians who worked with Prince; they showed him the ways of the funk. It’s a deep and very special legacy. Cory is an infectious performer, with incredible energy and positivity on stage. One night a half dozen years ago, some young musicians from Michigan were on tour in Minneapolis and had a night off. Somebody told them to go check out a band called Doctor Mambo’s Combo (Cory happened to be subbing for the regular guitar player that night). Something special happened that night. Maybe it was a full moon. Maybe it was destiny. Maybe it was beshert. By the time the concert was over, Cory had connected with a group of people who would have a big impact on his life and career: Jack Stratton, Theo Katzman, Joe Dart & Joey D

Jacques Schwarz-Bart says that he never fit neatly into any one category. He says, “I knew early on in my life that I could not go down a regular path. It would be hard for other human beings to totally accept me the way I am.”  From the very start, Jacques’ life was unusual. Born in the Caribbean island of Guadeloupe to a pair of writers (his mother the Guadeloupean novelist Simone Schwarz-Bart and his father, the French-Jewish writer and intellectual André Schwarz-Bart.)  The family traveled widely, living in Senegal, Switzerland, and Goyave, Guadeloupe. Young Jacques was an excellent student, and he was thought to be destined for greatness. In his universe, that meant a life in politics and, after studying at the prestigious Parisian school of Government, Sciences Po, he began a career as a Senator’s assistant in Paris. He was an inspiration: young, successful and smart - a beacon of hope and a shining representative of his multi cultural background in France.  So when he walked away from all that at ag

How does pianist Aaron Parks describe himself? “A bit odd. I play piano, write songs, and take pictures of doors with my phone.” Raised on a small island near Seattle, Washington, Aaron found himself hungry for more creative and intellectual stimulation than his immediate surroundings could offer. He enrolled in college at the age of 14, studying music, math and computer science. It wasn’t long before he dropped the math and computer stuff and focused on music; he moved to New York at age 16 to study at the Manhattan School of Music, and by age 18 he was playing, recording and touring in Terence Blanchard’s band. So, yeah, a bit odd. Besides playing with Blanchard, Parks has performed with a variety of artists including trumpeter Christian Scott, drummer Kendrick Scott, vocalist Gretchen Parlato, and others. Parks has released several albums under his own name, including his 2008 Blue Note debut, Invisible Cinema and his latest project Little Big.  We met in Brooklyn on one of the coldest days of the year to

Kenny Werner might try to talk you out of becoming a jazz musician. “Please don’t become a jazz musician just because you think you should. That’s like saying you think you should become a typewriter salesman. Nobody needs you. I would do everything I could to talk them out of it and if they couldn’t be talked out of it then I would say go for it. It’s got to be a thing of extreme love because it doesn’t make any sense otherwise.” For Kenny, playing piano always came easily. Even as a young boy growing up on Long Island, he was an exceptional musician, first recording on television at the age of 11. Although he studied classical piano as a child, he enjoyed playing anything he heard on the radio. He has dedicated his life to playing jazz. Over his extensive career, he’s worked with an exhaustive list of the greats, including long lasting creative relationships with Joe Lovano, Toots Thielemans, Betty Buckley and the Mel Lewis orchestra. Quincy Jones has said of Kenny, “Perfection, 360 degrees of soul and scie

Pianist, composer, educator and recording artist Fred Hersch has been proclaimed “the most arrestingly innovative pianist in jazz over the last decade” by Vanity Fair, “an elegant force of musical invention” by The L.A. Times, and “a living legend” by The New Yorker. He tells me, “I’m 63. I’ve been playing 2, 5 and 1 for 45 years. I don’t know many people that can go to work after 45 years and say that they’re really looking forward to it. As long as I can keep my physical skills intact, I’m gonna keep going until I can’t go anymore.” Keeping his physical skills intact has been a more challenging proposition for Fred than for most. He has been HIV positive since the 1980’s, and at times just staying alive has been a struggle. Nonetheless, his creative output is exhaustive. With more than three-dozen albums to his credit as a leader or co-leader, multiple collaborations with many of the finest jazz musicians in the world, Hersch consistently receives lavish critical praise and numerous international awards for

As a boy in Detroit, Michigan, Rick Margitza’s mother asked him “do you want to hear a recording of your grandfather playing cello”? Then she put on the Charlie Parker with Strings album. After hearing Charlie Parker play, Rick knew that he wanted to be a jazz saxophone player. Margitza’s paternal grandfather, a Hungarian Gypsy violinist, taught him to play the violin at the age of four. His father also played violin with the Detroit Symphony Orchestra (and recorded on classic Motown sessions). So it was almost inevitable that Rick would be a musician, and he was drawn to jazz. He loved the sound of what he calls “the white Jewish tenor player” school of playing: Michael Brecker, Steve Grossman, Dave Liebman, Bob Berg and (apparent honorary Jew) Jerry Bergonzi. Rick bounced around from music school to music school in his 20s, and ended up in New Orleans playing on the local scene and finishing school. He was thinking about moving to New York and wondering if it was already too late for that. His childhood fri

Joe Dart was on his way to Boston. He had enrolled in the Berklee College of music - a somewhat inevitable step for the young, very talented bass player from rural Michigan who loved funk and soul music. Although he had already been performing regularly in and around his home of Harbor Spriannngs, Michigan, he knew he would have to get out of town to achieve his goal of being a touring and recording bass player. But he didn’t go. Something kept him in Michigan and at the last minute he changed his plans and decided to move to Ann Arbor to attend the University of Michigan instead. Any guesses what that one thing might have been? You’re probably right. Anyway, it didn’t take him long to meet the musicians who would change his life and trajectory. Within weeks of moving to Ann Arbor, a jam session with Jack Stratton reoriented both of them. Along with Theo Katzman, Woody Goss, and a continually expanding collection of regular players (including Cory Wong, Antwaun Stanley and Joey Dosik) and special guests (like

John Fields was a normal kid growing up in a normal family in the Boston suburbs, in prime position to take over his father’s hosiery business. Instead, he moved to Minneapolis straight after high school to hang out with his uncle Steve Greenberg, whose hit “Funkytown” had been a huge international success. Fields quickly became his uncle’s right hand man, learning the ropes as an engineer, producer, and bass spanker. His band Greazy Meal was a mainstay on the Minneapolis scene in the 1990s, and his early record production work earned him a reputation as an enthusiastic, creative and very fast collaborator. Eventually he moved to Los Angeles where he worked with some of the biggest names in pop, r&b and rock music, including Pink, Jonas Brothers, Switchfoot, Demi Lovato, Miley Cyrus, Semisonic, Selena Gomez, and a whole lot more. In 2016 he moved his operation back to Minneapolis and set up shop in the legendary Creation Audio studios building, where he had interned years earlier as a teenager. John conti

John Leventhal thinks his initial, preanalytical ideas are the good ones. John Leventhal realized that there “really is no daddy, there isn’t anybody who really has it all together, knows all the answers. You’re kind of in the wilderness. You have to take a chance to fail.” John Leventhal isn’t sure how to measure success. John Leventhal is a self invented guy. Despite his five Grammys, his critically and commercially successful work as musician, producer, songwriter, and recording engineer who has produced albums for William Bell, Michelle Branch, Rosanne Cash, Marc Cohn, Shawn Colvin, Rodney Crowell, Joan Osborne, Loudon Wainwright III, and many others, he’s still wondering if he’s made it. As a musician he has worked with these artists as well as Jackson Browne, Willie Nelson, Bruce Hornsby, Elvis Costello, Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris, Charlie Haden, David Crosby, Levon Helm, Edie Brickell, Paul Simon, Patty Larkin, Susan Tedeschi, the Tedeschi Trucks Band, Steve Forbert, Kelly Willis, Donald Fagen, and J

Mary Sweeney needs some air. “There has to be a flow of fast and slow, and a pause to allow the listener or the spectator to digest and to project their own thoughts.” She thinks I should leave more space in my podcasts, to let it breathe. She tells me this as we sit in the screened in porch behind her summer house in Madison, Wisconsin. As she tells me this, cicadas chirp loudly, as if to underscore her point: “Today’s episode will not be edited! You will not remove us from this moment!”  Mary Sweeney should know. She spent much of her career as a film editor, producer and writer collaborating with David Lynch. Beginning in 1985 with Blue Velvet, and continuing through the 2006 film Inland Empire, her editing credits include Blue Velvet (1986), Wild at Heart (1990), Twin Peaks (1991), Industrial Symphony (1991), Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me (1992), On the Air (1992), Hotel Room(1993), Lost Highway (1996), The Straight Story (2000), Mulholland Drive (2001) and Baraboo (2009). The relationship with Lynch was