Check out this special performance of Always Love You (from the album After Night Came Sun) recorded on June 8th, 2014 at Kulak’s Woodshed in North Hollywood!
We are thrilled to have been named the "Best Group/Duo" in the 2014 International Acoustic Music Awards for our song, "Sickbed Symphony"!
Click here to view all of the winners.
Jan 28 – Salt Lake City, UT @ The Shred Shed – more info
Jan 30 – Denver, CO @ The Walnut Room – more info
Jan 31 – Albuquerque, NM @ Outpost Performance Space – more info
Feb 1 – Flagstaff, AZ @ Firecreek Coffee House – more info
Feb 2 – Phoenix, AZ @ Crescent Ballroom – more info
Feb 24 – Boston, MA @ Club Passim – more info
Feb 25 – New York, NY @ Rockwood Music Hall – more info
Feb 26 – Philadelphia, PA @ Burlap and Bean – more info
Feb 27 – Lewiston, ME @ Bates College – private show
Feb 28 – North Adams, MA @ DPAC – more info
Mar 1 – Independence, MO @ Main Street Coffee House – more info
Apr 12 – Tucson, AZ @ Harlow Gardens – more info
On their fifth album—and after a few years of struggling with various obstacles—Cameron Hood and Ryan Green have pressed the refresh button.
And the opening track, “Red Line Reel,” acts as something of an introduction to the latest phase of the Tucson-based duo’s career. The spritely 1 1/2-minute instrumental track has the quality of a classic Leo Kottke composition, pastoral and intricate.
This leads into “How to Let It Go,” which unflinchingly confronts emotions such as jealousy, anxiety and hubris. Hood and Green purge such debilitating feelings, embrace being themselves and rediscover their artistic voices. Touchy-feely, sure, but Ryanhood bring a convincing intimacy to the song by placing it in the context of their trademark acoustic folk-pop sound, which will remind some listeners of the work of Dan Fogelberg and Simon & Garfunkel.
Speaking of sentimental, “Sickbed Symphony” allows a father to give death-bed advice to his sons, in the form of a musical metaphor, but Hood’s vocal delivery brings an affecting authenticity. Throughout, they play furiously together. Green’s melodic leads and solos often provide the highlights, such as on the glowing instrumental “Dillinger Days.”
-Gene Armstrong, Tucson Weekly
We spent our day signing and shipping copies of the new album out today. Order your signed copy of Start Somewhere and one of these beauties could be yours :-)
As you’ve probably noticed, things have been kind of quiet in the Ryanhood camp for the past couple of years. We come bearing good news: the quiet is ending. But before the big reveal, we feel like we owe you all an explanation for our absence. So, here’s the rest of the story…
It was 2009. We’d been going hard as a band for about 6 years, doing a ton of college touring behind our record Forward, doing some dates with Jason Mraz, and we were poised to make the leap to bigger and broader audiences. And by the looks of things, it was going to happen. We were finally about to release The World Awaits, after three long years shuttling back and forth between LA and Tucson working with a grammy-winning producer. We won a contest to open for Kelly Clarkson and Jay-Z at Arizona STADIUM, in front of a projected audience of 17,000 people! For fun, we wrote a song for Ellen, and she heard it, and sent out a tweet, which led to her staff calling us about appearing on the show! We reached out to some major artist management firms and they were impressed with our track record and momentum and agreed to meet with us to discuss management!
Then, piece by piece, the house of cards fell. Some unexpected developments led to our having to go $10,000 in debt at the last minute to release our CD. At the stadium gig, we started our set on time, but the doors opened late, and we only ended up playing to a few hundred people (we’d beefed up our merchandise for what we thought would be an audience of 17,000 and as a result, went another $6,000 into merchandise debt). The Ellen Show replaced most of their staff during a filming break, and when we followed up with them at the appointed time, no one on her staff knew who we were. We travelled the country and met with all of those management firms, presenting our “business plan”, trying to convince them we were worth believing in. One by one, they each passed on us.
It was really depressing. Not what we expected. It seemed as if everything we’d been working for was for nothing. We wrote an album about it called After Night Came Sun, and many would call it our darkest. About life falling apart, losing the meaning, dreams burning down. We thought the album was a sign of our re-emergence, but really it was more of a last gasp. In heavy debt, unable to land a manager or a booking agent, feeling like no one believed in us, we essentially stopped believing in ourselves. We took a rare gig here or there, primarily to pay down our debt, but mostly, we sat in silence, grieving our dreams, feeling like maybe we didn’t really have much of value to offer.
What we were too foolish or maybe selfish to see was that there were people out there who did believe in us, who did find meaning or joy in what we do… and if you’ve read this far, you might possibly be one of those people. And for that we THANK YOU so truly. Forgive us for taking you for granted.
But most significantly, we feel we learned something critical about who we are. We learned that we are artists who make art, singers who sing. That we are only fully alive when we are writing and singing and creating. Whatever comes as the result of the art we make is not up to us. Our purpose is just to be who we are and play what we play, to anyone who wants to look and listen.
It’s now the 10 year anniversary of our very first album, Sad and Happiness. 10 years since we played on the streets of Boston. 10 years since we walked home in the rain and talked about our dreams.
So. Here we are. Getting back up. Starting over again. But with a new sense of gratitude for every ear that will listen.
We proudly present to you, our newest album, Start Somewhere.
Please buy it, and share it. We are singing to you.
In honor of the Halloween season, here is a blast from our past. Occasionally, Ryanhood disappears and these carnivaleros show up instead.
¡Presentando Los Guapos del Norte!
Here’s our new press photo, courtesy of Taylor Noel Photography.
What do you think?
I wrote an email to one of my favorite singer/songwriters yesterday, and it feels appropriate, given the upcoming holiday, to share it with you. Stephen Kellogg & The Sixers’ album Glassjaw Boxer was one of those rays of light that we sometimes see (or hear) at exactly the right time. He’s honest in his dealings with family and the pursuit of fame, with his questions, doubts, and hopes.
In his song Father’s Day, he sings to his daughter about the closeness of their family, as well as the distance created by his perennial absence. “You’re like your mom, little girl/ and believe me that’s the best thing in the world,” followed by “I will always always love you, no matter what you do/ and when you’re growing up without me I will always be with you.”
Even though I don’t have any kids, these themes cut right in. And I think it’s because they help me to feel that I’m loved, especially when I, like all of us at times, struggle to believe it.
Here’s the letter I wrote to Stephen:
Hello Road Warriors!
This is Cameron Hood from folk/pop band Ryanhood.
A song, and then a brief story:
Last year, listening to the SK6ERS’ song Father’s Day while driving around in my car, I was struck with tears. I could feel for the first time what my dad had perhaps felt about me for so long.
All of the struggles he’s watched me undergo, the internal battle with self, the fight to hold onto hope, the wondering when life evens out, if ever. And always with him saying, “I will always always love you, no matter what you do.”
I didn’t quite crash my car, but I was highly moved.
I knew, at that moment, that the following Father’s Day I wanted to record a version for him, as if from his point of view, to me (hence the title of my cover, “Boy’s Life Version”). The regret over the broken home, and the constant love of a dad for a boy who was, in fact, born in the spring.
As a songwriter, I always want to know when my words and melodies have moved folks. In that spirit, I share my cover with you. Thank you, Stephen, for going to those places, lyrically and emotionally. You model for the rest of us what honesty can look like in real life.
ps… I tried to keep the SK twang out of my voice, but I think maybe it crept in just a little :)
I’m aware that so many of us have not had dads who loved and supported us, or who were even there at all. And so a song like this may bring a different kind of tears. The theme though is still the same: What happens when we learn to see ourselves through the eyes of one who love us? I hope we’ve all been loved once or twice in our lives well enough to see our goodness mirrored back to us. To feel that someone could know us, and yet still love us.
The hard part is learning to see all the good in us, with our own eyes (or ears).
What is the one thing you wish you had done differently which you learned by experience?
This is an excellent question, and a very difficult one. My answer may end up sounding a bit touchy-feely for your tastes, but it’s my answer nonetheless.
I wish this: that I had asked myself “What do I want?” more often. I wish I had started asking earlier, “What EXACTLY do I want? Is THIS what I want? How close is this thing I’m doing right now to what I’ve dreamed of, hoped for?” And I wish I’d developed the courage to believe in my answers to those questions earlier on.
In other words, I wish I’d started to trust my intuition earlier.
Asking “Where am I going, and what do I really want?” is a powerful question, because it prevents you from getting swept along by others’ plans for you in the hopes that they have your best interest at heart. Not that everyone you meet is trying to con you. Not by any means. But you’re the only one who will truly know whether what you’re doing is a) what you’re made to do, b) a stepping stone on the way to getting there, or c) a completely tangential distraction. You have to keep checking in and saying to yourself, for example, “Okay, joining such-and-such group was a good decision a year ago… does it still make sense? Am I compromising my values to be a part of this? Is my heart in it? How can I put my heart in it?”
In my case, touring colleges made sense in the past as a good way to make a living as a band and begin to build a fanbase. But I ignored the voice inside that was suggesting that it was time to move on from that kind of touring. The voice, or feeling, or intuition, or whatever you want to call it kept softly persisting that, while the money was helpful, Ryan and I were actually burning ourselves out — on travel, hotels, touring, loneliness, playing “Stopless” for the 567 time — faster than we were really building a fanbase.
And burnout is not a bad thing all by itself. It happens to just about everyone at some point. The question is, what do I do with it? Will I listen to that voice, address my intuition and make a change? Or will I continue down the exact same path, seeking to please managers or booking agents or producers or fans at the cost of my soul?
You said that you seek to hone your musical talents for God’s glory, and I think that’s admirable. You may read my words and think, “He’s talking a lot about what he wants, what about what God wants?” And so my biggest piece of advice, should you choose to accept it, is to have the faith to believe that the voice of your deepest desire, your deepest intuition IS God speaking in you, to you, through you.
Listening to that intuition, even if you make mistakes (and you will), will still steer you in the right direction. And I’d say direction is more important that perfection.
So I said it would be a little touchy-feely. Stay-tuned for a much more rugged and manly entry. It will probably be about sports.
Dear Mr. Hood,
I have been enjoying your music for some time, and I love the way you mix intricate musical harmonies with meaningful lyrics. You may remember me from your show in Boston. I played violin for Back Into Blue.
I have been studying violin for 9 years, and also play guitar, piano, drums and sing. I am in high school, and I am considering colleges to continue my musical education. I write and record songs, and would like to hone and refine this skill for God’s glory. Could you give me some insight from your experience about these upcoming years?
- What was the best decision you made in the pursuit of your music career?
- What is the one thing you wish you had done differently which you learned by experience?
- What advice would you give someone like me?
Thanks for the time and advice you might be able to give. Believe me, I will consider your words of wisdom carefully, because I need all the help I can get!
I absolutely remember meeting you in New Hampshire and performing with you at Cafe 939 in Boston. Your email is timely in that your request forcefully nudges me to put into words what has been swimming freestyle laps in my mind for some time now. I found that I had a lot to say. Not a big surprise, coming from me! With your permission, I’m posting your letter and my response to the Ryanhood blog.
What was the best decision you made in the pursuit of your music career?
My first instinct is to say that Ryan is the best decision I’ve made in my music career. He has matched or exceeded every ounce of work, drive, and heartsweat that I’ve put into the pursuit of this dream. When I fall, when I lose heart, when I’m sick onstage or have lost my voice, Ryan is at my right to carry on until I come back to life.
I played in a band throughout highschool and college called Easyco, and though I loved our music, and loved the guys in the band (one of whom was my brother), we didn’t share the same ear for the kind of music we wanted to make, or the same sight for the direction we wanted to go. And since, of all the guys in the group I had the strongest drive to succeed at playing music, I became the leader. I felt alone in trying to pull this heavy thing, this difficult dream to the place I wanted it to go.
So, finding someone to share the load with, who complements my abilities and my flaws, was a revelation. Ryan is level-headed, business-minded. He has an easy way with people, and knows how to measure his words in a way that creates allies wherever we go. He has an ear for the production of music, for the perfecting of harmony and rhythm. Conversely, I am exuberant, passionate, and creative, but also somewhat of a loose cannon. I contribute a lot of musical and visual raw material, but often struggle to complete, to tighten, to finish. And in this, Ryan has been my perfect counterpoint.
I make it sound like a dreamy, exciting process, and it CAN be that. But it is just as often slow and difficult. Our partnership tries our patience, our egos, and our communication skills. But having Ryan to walk beside has been overwhelmingly worth the friction and struggle of partnership.
It seems to me that if you’re a solo musician, or if you choose to play violin in an orchestra, or if you choose to pursue music in some form outside of the context of a band or duo, you might feel that this doesn’t apply to you. “Not everyone has a Ryan,” a friend said to me. But here’s the universal application: surround yourself with good people, encouraging people, people with similar visions, people who believe in the possibility of what you’re trying to do. Surround yourself with people who have that gift of being both brutally honest and deeply encouraging in the same breath. Find people who can do the things that you can’t, and partner with them.
The biggest gift Ryan has given me is that he’s always believed in the possibility of things. And it’s so incredibly important, especially when doors seem shut and nothing seems easy. A strong desire mixed with a strong sense of possibility may be the only things strong enough to get you through those times.
But I’ll say more about that when I answer your next two questions.
It’s Always About The Songs – Part 4 of 4
These days, I’m a lot more open and excited about the thought of my songs changing and evolving. I try to get a song as prepared as I can – I hone it and sit with it and make sure it’s as good as I can make it – and then I open it up to criticism and change. I tend towards certain songwriting habits, and I’m excited by the prospect of letting those habits get turned on their head by Ryan, a producer, fellow musicians.
Lately we’ve been talking about our next record and how we’d like to widen our production palette even more… play more instruments than before. More mandolin, piano… go in directions that make the listening experience different than what we’ve done previously. Up until now we’ve tended to stay pretty close to the 2 guitar, 2 voice format that you see live. And we’d like to broaden that substantially… to be as absolutely creative as we can be.
Yet regardless of how we produce a song – regardless of how many layers of piano or mandolin or the Tucson Boys Chorus we add – it will still be true that moving, well-written songs make the real difference.
So far I haven’t found anything quite like the feeling of satisfaction and creation that come with completing the puzzling, heart-and-mind-requiring process of songwriting. Some have come in the course of one night, while others have taken years to finish writing. But it’s definitely true that the process, the struggle, the work of writing a song is just as important and in many cases, just as fun, as listening to a finished product.
I’ll leave you with a live video of one of our newest songs, “After Night Came Sun.” It’s about struggling through a difficult process, trying to find your voice, and about truly celebrating it once you’ve found it.
Thanks for reading!
Adapt Or Die – Part 3 of 4
Since I tend to write a lot of raw material, I know from experience that not all of it will make the cut. A lot of it will get passed over, or changed quite a bit from the time I write it to the time you hear it on a CD. So it’s helpful to me to stay open and be okay with the song going in a lot of different directions. There have been times where I was adamant that a song be played a certain way that just didn’t sound right to Ryan. And since we’re a duo, without him also believing in the song, it just wouldn’t get played.
Many times, many months later I’d think, “Why was I so particular about the chorus? Why did I demand it be played exactly in that way?” Over time I’d start to see that if I was willing to adapt a little, then the song would live, instead of going off to doggy heaven, never to be heard from again.
Maybe because I expect for my songs to change, I don’t get particularly attached to any particular vision for production. Ryan, however, is especially good at writing a song and hearing in his mind how it will sound in its finished form. He can hear the drum pattern in his head even though he’s playing with just an acoustic guitar. He can hear lots of different kinds of production quite well. Partly that’s due to the format of our partnership when we started. I’d bring fully-written songs to him, and he’d think of lots of cool things he could add to make them shinier, sweeter, stronger. Though it’s balanced out nicely over time, when we started I was the songwriter and Ryan was the producer.
Slowly, I’ve been learning to not get too attached to any one idea or sound. There are exceptions where I think a certain lyric absolutely “makes” the song, and I will fight for it. But overall, I’ve gotten more and more excited about how my songs may change with some good outside input.
Example: My friend Carlos Arzate and I wrote the song “Divides” together, and promptly made a recording of it. We wanted to keep it short and simple, with focus on the quasi-political words. I wrote a guitar intro and played a bunch of fun chimy, acoustic stuff during the choruses. As Ryan and I took the song into the recording process with producer Ross Hogarth, it changed dramatically.
Ross lengthened it, adding more choruses so that the listener could really have a “feast of choruses instead of an appetizer,” as he said. He also brought in heavy U2-style drums and guitar, and again he called for a bridge. Now, the addition of that bridge, (the “I’m not first/ I won’t be last to say these words/ I know it’s just a simple verse/ but sometimes it hurts” part) is one of my favorite moments in the song, and it almost didn’t exist!
Also, Ross suggested that we make the choruses uniform, saying the same words each time, so that, through the repetition of the “Be what you want to see” chorus, the song could take on the hopeful quality of an anthem.
If I’d held on to my idea for a short little lyrical tune, the song would be very different. Notice in the finished version that there’s a slightly different first chorus and a very different guitar intro.
Though “Divides” hasn’t emerged as a fan favorite, and though it was very difficult to record, it still stands out to me as one of our more majestic studio moments.
Another Example: On our previous record, Forward (iTunes, CDBaby), there’s a song called “You Used To.” I flew to Boston during a break from school, recorded my guitar and vocals, and flew back to Tucson for finals. Meanwhile, Ryan “produced” the song. He brought in some Berklee musicians and had the drummer play a rolling pattern on the snare drum, had the bassist play an upright bass, and added some banjo himself. The next time I was in Boston and heard the song, I was amazed that he’d essentially turned it into a bluegrass song! I had never envisioned it that way, but I really liked it. A nice variation on the acoustic rock sound. The songwriting itself hadn’t changed, just Ryan’s production.
Next up, the conclusion of this bloggish mini-series with some parting thoughts about the importance of good songwriting over good production, thoughts on how the process is as fun as the result, how the journey is as good as the destination, and a couple other smart sounding things like that.
Songwriting After The Honeymoon – Part 2 of 4
Often, I’m very passionate about a song when I first write it. But within a week or a month, the initial high of passion and creation will wear off, and I can sense weaknesses in the songs. I get bored by them. I’ll play them on my acoustic guitar for a friend, and I’ll find myself making excuses like, “Probably the drums will make this more interesting.” Or I’ll play half the song and say, “Yeah, you get the idea.”
If the song had really been working, I would’ve known it, my gracious audience-friend would’ve known it, and I would’ve played it all the way through, tapped my foot, and finished big; all with a giant “tell-me-I’m-good” grin on my face. So, when I play a song for a friend, or especially for Ryan, I feel all these signals internally that tell me at what places I’ve got more work to do on the song. It sounds simple, but I basically just pay attention to whether I:
a) Get bored
b) Get embarrassed by the lyrics
c) Don’t enjoy playing a certain part or start making excuses for it
d) Smash my guitar and take up knitting
Another way we find those cues is to make a rough recording of the song and listen back. Sometimes what sounds good in my head doesn’t end up sounding good in my ears. The key, for me, is to not smash my guitar and quit the song and change careers. Instead, I try to hone in on what works well, and I look for advice and inspiration for changing what doesn’t work.
Sometimes, of course, there’s just not enough that I still love about the song to keep it around at all. Over time, a song like that will get strip-mined, with it’s chords going to one song, the verse lyrics going to another, and a little melody being used in some other song later, etc.
Example: The chords for our song “Around the Sun” originally belonged in a song called “Mrs. Marie” which was an inspirational praise chorus to moms everywhere. Some good bits, some nice verses. I liked the idea, but ultimately I wasn’t sure if the song was sweet or silly. “If you don’t take time to shake some booty/ Everything will feel like doing duty.”
It just didn’t come out right, and it seemed unrelatable to most people outside of the cougar crowd.
Most importantly, though, Ryan never latched onto it. Instead he encouraged me to keep searching. We sat down, and he asked me to keep fingerpicking the opening chords, since we both felt those parts were really working. Meanwhile he opened my songwriting journal in search of some unused verse ideas. He found some rhymes and suggested a pattern for singing them, and when we got to the place where a chorus would go, our friend, songwriter Owen Plant belted out a rough version of the chorus you hear now. He sang “moove meee round the suuunnn,” in that high Taylor-esque voice of his. It came out of nowhere, but the idea of being moved around the far side of the sun seemed to match the longing of our new verses, and we said, “Ah! That’s great! Do it again!”
So in this case, even though I was hesitant to abandon “Mrs. Marie,” the input of musicians I respect and trust brought out something far better than I was expecting!
For your listening pleasure, here’s “Mrs. Marie.” Check out the disconnect between the sad, seriousness of the verses and the silliness of the chorus. Also notice several vocal moments that were blatantly lifted from that song and inserted into “Around the Sun.” For instance: “Doing everything, everything/ for everyone else” became “When everything, everything/ everywhere’s just right.”
Sadly, one line I like, “Letting a love song belong on your lips/ you say you would if you could/ but someone has to watch the kids” didn’t make the cut. Will it ever live again? Maybe if Desperate Housewives needs a new theme song I’ll work this one back up. But I’m not holding my breath.
Next up, how being open to a producer’s opinion can make a song come alive in ways you never thought of. After all, that’s why you hire a producer, right? Stay tuned…
Our friend and author of He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not, Trish Ryan, ran a blog series called “40 Days of Faith” and used our album, The World Awaits (iTunes, CDBaby), as a bit of musical inspiration for dialoguing about her experiences during those 40 days. One of her readers won a contest to ask us the question of their choice. I put a lot of thought, and some cool examples, into my response, and so I thought it would be fun to share it with you. Her question is below, followed by Part 1 of my response.
“I’ve always been curious about not only the process of writing a song, but the journey it takes once you get into the studio to record it. Like, if you start out as just you and your guitar, do you hear the other instruments in your head and imagine the possible arrangements, or does what ends up on the CD after producing and mixing sound very different than what you ever dreamt for that song? Is that a hard process (to let go of your initial version), or fun discovery? Does the degree of change depend on the song, or do most (or few) songs change a lot?”
As you might expect, some songs make the journey from inception to production very much the way we imagined them, while others change tremendously. The two basic ways our songs end up different than when we first imagined them are changes in the “songwriting” itself, as well as changes to our vision for the “production” of the song. And often the two are closely intertwined.
The Relationship Between Songwriting and Production – Part 1 of 4
The Songwriting period tends to focus on the chords, melody, and basic song structure, with the the most common changes during the recording process being the addition of say, an extra chorus at the end, or a bridge or musical interlude to allow the song to breathe or to go somewhere different for a while.
Example: Ryan brought “Mature” to me 70% written, and together we wrote the chorus, “I don’t want to/ turn me into/ something that I’m not…” And once we started making our record, our producer Ross Hogarth suggested the need for a more intense bridge… a place for the song to really peak. Ryan already had, “I forget who I am/ would you lend me a hand?/ I’m not myself,” but there wasn’t the emotional peak yet that you hear on the recording. So Ryan and I worked until we’d built the “I don’t understand this/ I’m letting go/ It slips out of hand/ And it’s gone” section.
The Production of a song often refers to the instruments used to flesh the song out, what the overall color of the song is, where the background vocals go, how fast or slow the song is played… basically, all the interesting choices that make a song go from words and chords to a full-on listening experience. In the example of “Mature,” drums and bass were added; slight, chiming electric guitar was added for ambiance; cello brought out more soul-aching melodies; and the layering of multiple Ryans and Camerons (weird to say?) was added to the bridge. The idea was to enhance, with production, the same goal (an emotional peak) that we tried to achieve through the songwriting.
So that’s a basic framework for how songwriting and production work together. In the next post, I’ll talk more specifically about songwriting, including how to know if you do or don’t have a million-dollar hit on your hands, and what to do if you don’t.
I got this email from one of our friends in Idaho. Her name is Amy Lapp, and fortuitously, it was her camera-phone recording of “Oh Ellen” that originally caught the attention of The Ellen Show. Amy and her friend Kris won the award for Driving Farthest to Attend the CD Release Show, (Pocatello, ID to Tucson, AZ), and I appreciate not only her enthusiasm about our DVD and live show, but her generally positive outlook on music and friendship. Here’s what she had to say after getting the official DVD video document of that incredibly fun night:
I just wanted to tell you that I just received and watched the new DVD and loved it! I started reminiscing about the roadtrip to Arizona that Kris and I took to see that show. It was a lot of fun, we saw some cool things, enjoyed the warmth and sunshine, and then concluded it all with an epic Ryanhood concert! Makes me want to do it all over again:) I enjoyed watching the few phone-videos I took in the meantime, but the DVD is definitely better!
I also wanted to share a funny story about “Alright”. You know how you can start singing along to a song, and maybe you have a word or a line wrong, but you keep singing it that way because you don’t realize it? Then later someone points it out to you or you just suddenly realize what it really says.
Well, I apparently had one word wrong in the song “Alright”, but didn’t realize it until you guys said that you didn’t think those of us in colder climates could relate to this line: “Well it’s a hundred and ten/ BUT I’m with my friends”. I had been singing it “Well it’s a hundred and ten/ WHEN I’m with my friends”. To me this related to the saying – “Give it 110 percent!” – and I was thinking that things were so great when you were with your friends, it was better than 100 percent, it was 110!
So you see, my experiences with 110 degree weather have been very limited, but I still “got” the song. And now I think I sing it the right way, though recently I was singing “it’s negative ten/ but i’m with my friends,” because it’s Idaho, and it’s getting about that cold.
Have a Merry Christmas,
Cameron’s Shamelessly Self-Promoting Note:
If you haven’t seen the DVD yet, you can order it here. And you can check out the full video for the song Amy was talking about, “Alright,” below.