Since the day we moved into our house, I have regularly snuggled my daughter Sophie for about 10 minutes before she goes to sleep at night. When she was younger, it was to help ease her fears over the creaks and rattles of her room when the lights were off. As she got older, this routine turned into an opportunity for the two of us to catch up on our days. I found out about how school was for her, and Sophie asked me questions about my job.  For the past year I have tried to end this nightly routine.  Whenever I expressed this to Julie, my great wife admonished me by saying, “There’s going to come a time when she wants nothing to do with you. Enjoy this while you can.” Generally I pooh pooh this comment; I can’t imagine my daughter not wanting her dad around.

I vividly recall dropping her off for the first time at daycare when she was just two months old. It happened to coincide with my first day at a new job, so I was already a bundle of raw nerves. Letting her go and placing her into the care of people I barely knew was one of the worst things I ever had to do, and after I left the daycare, I had a meltdown in my car before finding the strength to start the car. I felt like she was already moving on. (more…)

Slow dancing. It was something Julie and I did more frequently in the early years of our marriage. There we’d be, alone in our apartment, holding each other and swaying to the music of Bonnie or Shawn or Bruce or Ella. As one of our favorite artists sang, we could hear the helicopters flying over North Hollywood or rowdy neighbors in the courtyard below. In those moments, the outside world would fade away and it just the two of us in our own paradise. As our lives became busier with work, school and children, those simple times became more infrequent. These days our nights together are spent filling in the details of our spent days. We catch up with each others’ previous twelve hours before sinking into the couch for an hour of mindless entertainment on the television. With the kids asleep in the next room, playing music rarely occurs. The days of dancing seemed far gone, until we heard Patty Griffin’s beautiful “Heavenly Day.”

Like so many, we became fans of Griffin’s music after her first album, Living With Ghosts, was released in 1996. With just her guitar and voice, that record ranks as one of the best debuts in modern rock history. Griffin’s songs “Every Little Bit,” “You Are Not Alone” and the tragic “Poor Man’s House” received minimal airplay on the L.A. radio station we listened to back in the mid 90’s. After the station was sold (and changed formats) and Griffin’s subsequent albums were ditched in the corporate downsizing of A&M Records (who dropped her after Universal bought the label), finding her music became a challenge. Luckily, there were champions of Patty Griffin out there, including Emmylou Harris, the Dixie Chicks, and some dude named Jeff Giles. She found a new home at Dave Matthews’ ATO Records, which has allowed her a chance to continue growing and succeeding as an artist. What I adore about Patty Griffin is the conviction with which she sings every song. Few artists can match her intensity and soul both on record and in concert (where she excels). Since signing to ATO, Griffin has released three stunning albums: 1000 Kisses (2002), Impossible Dream (2004), and Children Running Through (2007), the CD where you’ll find “Heavenly Day.”

The execs at ATO are savvy enough to realize that the old models of getting a musician’s work into the public’s ear have fallen by the wayside. Thus, they bombard music supervisors for film and television series with their artists’ repertoire. It was while watching a quirky little romantic series called Side Order of Life that Julie and I first heard “Heavenly Day.” Among other topics, this Lifetime series dealt with one character’s battle against a brain tumor. During the final moments of one particularly emotional episode, this character decided to take charge and cut off her curly locks just before starting chemotherapy. She would not let her disease control her life. However, when it came time to cut her hair, she couldn’t lift the scissors. Her best friend, standing by, lifted the shears for her and proceeded to start the cutting. Against these images, “Heavenly Day” played. While the images were sad to watch, Griffin’s lyrics provided an optimistic tone and perhaps revealed the ill woman’s inner optimism. (more…)