"It takes a certain kind of musician to capture your attention so completely that the spaces between the notes, between the words, carry as much weight as any other part of the song. Noah is that kind of musician. Noah is that kind of writer. And it was our honor to be in the room as he and Abby created grand, sprawling, effortless spaces in the songs they tracked with us. I then sat down with Noah to talk about writing, the energy in a venue, and navigating the music business on your own..."

-Ryan Booth, Creator/Director

RB: Does it feel like writing music is something you’ve always had to do or is this something that you discovered along the way at some point?

NG: As a kid I fell in love with music because it was a friend, a place that I could go that had no rules or judgments. Writing allowed me to escape. I found that writing gave me the ability to convey emotions, thoughts, feelings, and questions that I wasn’t always necessarily able to convey in conversations. Music was a way for me to convey all those things. I’ve been writing since I was 13, so yeah, it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.

RB: What do you mean by escape?

NG: Well, to be honest, I didn’t have a lot of friends so I just spent a lot of time in my bedroom writing songs. But then I found that people really liked my writing, I found something that I was good at, and I've stuck with it.

RB: Have your songs always been so personal? Has that always been the way that you’ve written?

NG: Yeah, they’ve always had a really personal element to them.

"I’m gonna say what I’m gonna say, and in that I’m not going to intentionally try to alienate or offend people or try to make myself look any better or worse than I am. Good or bad, I’m just musically sharing my diary"

RB: Does it feel like a paradox to create something that’s very personal even though it’s going to end up being presented very publicly?

NG: The funny thing is that it has never bothered me. I guess in some way, I have a level of self-confidence in my own thoughts and honestly, don't really care what people think about me. That is something that I’ve developed over the years. My attitude in life has always been that I’m gonna say what I’m gonna say, and in that I’m not going to intentionally try to alienate or offend people or try to make myself look any better or worse than I am. Good or bad, I’m just musically sharing my diary. Which is maybe a little weird, but hasn’t ever really bothered me for one reason or another.

RB: Not bothered you because you haven’t really thought about it or not bothered you because fundamentally it just doesn’t?

NG: I just don’t really worry that much about sharing these emotions. The funny thing is, I’m much more prone to share them in songs than I am in conversation.

RB: What do you think it is about songs or music in general that let’s you be comfortable doing that? That let’s you say the things that you wouldn’t in person?

NG: It’s safe. You have a bit of a shield to hide behind. I really respect people who do poetry because that’s an even braver expression because you don’t have any kind of melodic shield to hide behind or to help carry the burden.

RB: It seems that the way that you actually write the songs -- you and a guitar -- is actually how you often go out and play them live. Is there a division in your mind between moving from the writing to the performing? Is that two different sides of the same expression or do you feel like those are kind of two distinct, different experiences?

NG: When I’m in my room, physically writing a song, that’s the most personal level of the creation process. But when you take a song to an audience and you get to interact with the energy and the emotion of the people in the room, that process can take the song to an entirely new level. It's not yours anymore and that shared experience multiplies the energy and the emotions and the feelings expressed in the music.

RB: Do you find that that multiplying process reveal layers in your songs that you didn’t know were there when you were writing them?

NG: Absolutely. There are definitely moments in writing a song where its stream of consciousness of sorts. But then I may have moments where I’m performing a song that I’ll have an epiphany about something that I wrote that I wasn’t exactly sure what it meant at the time. It’s in those moments that I can be surprised by my own songs.

RB: Yeah, do you feel like that that is a pleasant surprise or is it a necessary component to saying a song is “done?”

NG: It makes me believe more in the spiritual power of music and that I can’t take credit for everything that I make. Realizing later some of the symbolism or analogies in a song that I may not have intentionally written is a reminder that there is some kind of muse that moves through me at times when I’m creating and that I don’t always even know what intention I may have when writing

"When you take a song to an audience and you get to interact with the energy and the emotion of the people in the room, that process can take the song to an entirely new level. It's not yours anymore and that shared experience multiplies the energy and the emotions and the feelings expressed in the music"

RB: Are you ever intentional when you sit down to write? Is there ever a “I’m going to write a song now” moment or is it more ephemeral, like you’ve been kicking something around in your head for days, weeks, months, and then suddenly it comes spilling out…

NG: It goes both ways. There are moments when I have a specific idea in mind that I want to convey. There are other times when I feel thoughts or emotions that are welling up inside of me, and I know they need to come out. I’ll try to spend as much time with a guitar or piano as possible in hopes that they’ll find their way out. (pause)

Sometimes writing feels very intentional, other times it is simply putting myself in the place where the muse can work, which means quieting my surroundings and focusing, being patient, and allowing the songs to come. Other times it is work, and it is intentional; really sitting down and processing thoughts in a creative way and then trying to convey them so that they’ll mean something to people.

RB: How has that process for you changed since the last time you sat down to write for a recording? Is that process something that’s shifted for you over time? Is it something you’ve gotten better at?

NG: Well I think the more you work at something, hopefully the better you get at it. The double edged sword of getting better at writing is that the more you work at something the more critical you become of your own art. Which can lead to a better product, but the process can be quite a bit more pain-staking.

RB: At what point in the process do you start to allow yourself to be self-critical? Is there a threshold you have to pass before you begin to reflect on what you’re making?

NG: I’m self-critical throughout the entire process. A lot of times it makes me quit before I’m even half way through a song. I may just say, “oh fuck it, this isn’t working.” Lately though, I’ve been trying to be more disciplined about coming back to songs and attempting to finish them, even if I don’t think it will ever be released. It’s that process of completion that is an important discipline to develop if I want to keep writing songs.

RB: A lot of my friends and I are starting to talk about just how noisy our everyday lives are…about how hard it is to make the time and space to be truly still. I mean, I can be infinitely distracted at any point, if only with the phone that’s in my back pocket. Any time I want, I can avoid having to just sit and be quiet. I flew home on an airplane yesterday and I remember distinctly getting on the plane thinking to myself, “you know what, I’m not going to do anything on this flight. I’m not going to work, I’m not going to watch a movie. I’m just going to sit and be quiet and think about things,” and dammit if ten minutes into the flight I didn’t reflexively pull out my phone and start reading something. Then halfway through the flight I realize that it’s all that I’ve been doing! Reading and playing stupid games. Do you feel like this baseline distraction is a struggle for you?

NG: Absolutely. That’s a massive struggle for artists in the 21st century. We have so many potential diversions from what is fundamentally a scary process; making art. Because there is so much potential for failure, you can let your self-doubt and your self-criticism lead you to distract yourself and look at your phone or check twitter or send emails. Sitting still and being patient and calming my mind and giving my thoughts time to ferment and form is a scary process because when you’re quiet, a lot of things come up that you didn’t realize were there.

Sitting still and being patient and calming my mind and giving my thoughts time to ferment and form is a scary process because when you’re quiet, a lot of things come up that you didn’t realize were there."

RB: Hm. Yeah, it’s terrifying, it’s totally necessary, and I’m really very bad at it.

NG: I agree completely (laughter)

RB: Do you co-write with other people ever or are your songs just your thing?

NG: I’m not very good at writing with other people. I have a tendency to take control of whatever situation I’m in and to some degree, that’s something I’d like to change in myself. I guess I’m interested in the idea of cooperation, but I fear that if I allow someone in, then it won’t purely be my thoughts and emotions that comes through in the songs.

RB: Meaning that you wouldn’t be able to perform it as truthfully, if you had to perform someone else’s words or story?

NG: Yeah, potentially, but really it’s just the fear is that it wouldn’t as wholly be mine. Any time you share the creative process, the thing you make isn’t yours anymore, its shared. Because my songs are so personal, it’s a particularly difficult thing to think about letting go of. Sure, when you play a song for an audience the feelings and the emotions conveyed in the song become a communal experience, but not the core structure of the song.

RB: I mean that’s a paradox that’s tough about making things, cause once other people take ownership of it, especially because of how personal a thing it is for people, you don’t ever really get it back. And it can end up meaning all kinds of things that you never really originally intended.

NG: Yeah, but I like that. I don’t feel like I’m so precious about my own songs that I’m afraid of them being misinterpreted or misconstrued. I create them for myself and then I share them with other people and then whatever meaning they take from them, that’s out of my control. So I can’t really worry about that too much.

RB: Now, I’m sure you get asked a bunch about being so close to your family. Tell me about who you take out on the road. Is your sister touring with you full time?

NG: She tours with me all the time, and now I’ve started bringing a couple more people into the fold. My little brother is playing with me now and on this upcoming tour in support of the new record. I’ll also be bringing out a couple of other utility players to fill out the sound a little more and to try to perform the songs more like they sound on the record.

"I feel like an important element for any artist that wants to grow and who wants to become a better version of themselves is to be able to analyze what they do and to be honest about the things that go well, and then critical of those things that didn’t."

RB: Oh wow, interesting. How are your parents with all of this? Your parents must be cool people.

NG: Yeah, they’re very cool. They’ve been a rock of support since ever since I started performing music.

RB: How so?

NG: The thing that I’m probably most grateful for is that my parents have always given us constructive criticism ever since we started performing. They weren’t the stereotypical, blindly supportive parents who were just happy to see their kids doing some kind of art in front of people. Especially in the beginning, they would talk about the things that worked and the things that didn’t work, and made notes on how to do the show better next time. That was really, really helpful, and it helped me to cultivate a mentality of being internally critical in a constructive way. I could look back on the show and dissect it and find what was effective and what was not and what part was distracting and what part was engaging.

RB: Do you enjoy the process of making adjustments? Do you feel like that is a healthy way to channel energy for you? Thinking about things that need to be better?

NG: I feel like an important element for any artist that wants to grow and who wants to become a better version of themselves is to be able to analyze what they do and to be honest about the things that go well, and then critical of those things that didn’t. In a positive way, not tearing yourself down or becoming disgruntled with yourself, but realizing that we’re all growing and we’re all changing and hopefully we’ll always be getting better.

RB: So there’s a making music reality and then there’s a making a living making music. Those can often be two very different realities. Talk to me about making progress on the “making a living” side of things. Can you feel forward momentum? Progress? If so, what does it feel like and what does it mean to you?

NG: Something that’s been important for me is having a long sight of the goal and realizing from a young age that it wasn’t something that would happen overnight. I knew that it would take a lot of work and that it takes a lot of small steps that gets to the big achievements. Then you recognize that besides, the big achievements are essentially a step up to another level of work, and so on and so on. So, I feel now that I have more tangible momentum that I ever have, but in reality, even when I was sixteen and playing in coffee shops, there was still a high level of progress, even if it didn't appear that I was necessarily going anywhere because all of those little steps were essential to get to the place where I am now. Big achievements are just an accumulation of small steps.

"The state of the business forces artists to be creative in ways outside of music. That’s really scary for some people, but it also creates a lot of great art. It’s like you’re on your own in the wilderness. Are you going to curl up and die or are you going to figure out how to make a fire with two sticks?"

RB: Do you have a very specific long term goal? Are you a master plan type of guy or are you just making this up as you go?

NG: For a long time the goal was to make a living playing music. And, now that that goal is accomplished, it was kind of difficult because I didn’t know what the next goal was because that’s a pretty big goal. But I know that this point is just the beginning of a much longer road. Now it’s just paying attention and trying to be better and finding ways that I can be more efficient and attain a higher level of creativity in everything that I do, whether it be music or business.

RB: Now that the “sign the big record deal” way of moving forward is all but gone, how do you navigate living as an independent artist?

NG: For me, it has been a process of talking to a lot of different people and getting a general sense of what’s working and what’s not. I pay attention to how music is shared now and to the ways that people experience music, as well as what is working for artists that I admire. More importantly, there’s an ethical element as well. It’s not just about how many records you can sell or how many people are coming to your shows, but it’s about how you treat your fans and how you build a lifetime audience. And that may not be an explosion all at once, which is fine, because I’m looking to build a solid fan base for the rest of my life. That is what will allow me to pursue my dream until I die. That’s so much more important to me. So,then, people are really important to me. I try to think of creative ways that I can share a quality product with my fans.

I’m not too concerned with people pirating my music because in the end, I can’t control that, and there’s no real point in me complaining about it. Ultimately it just forces me to be creative in the kind of products I sell at my shows and in my online store. I have to create things which are going to last, that are an extension of my art. They’re not just some thing for people to buy. So we make a high quality screen print poster and t-shirts, all printed locally. I believe in sustained local businesses and that local businesses can build each other up. Cause really, I’m just another one of those local businesses in Seattle. The state of the business forces artists to be creative in ways outside of music. That’s really scary for some people, but it also creates a lot of great art.

RB: Yeah, I mean, if people are willing to move past that initial, “Oh my god I’m on my own…”

NG: Exactly. It’s like you’re on your own in the wilderness. Are you going to curl up and die or are you going to figure out how to make a fire with two sticks.