Eva Walsh

Why, hello friends! Today is my first day after tour where I have not been tending to immediate matters (sleeping, boyfriend with a sliced hand at urgent care, car problems, & going to work) and I finally have the chance to bask in the overwhelming possibilities of being, at least in part, SELF-EMPLOYED.

It's all at once frightening & exciting. The list of things to do ranges from crunching numbers from tour, making this post, to practicing, to even planning out the concept and sorting through my thoughts & songs for my next album.

First, let me say that this tour went way better than I could have ever dreamed! While we had a few low moments, the happy, fulfilling & incredible moments greatly outshone and outnumbered the low ones so much that it takes quite a bit of effort to remember what at all I could've felt down about! So much happened in so little time, but I'll try and recap as briefly as I can!

(Photo courtesy of Kevin Bonham)

Our tour launch at Club Passim in Cambridge, MA was like a Cinderella story for me. We packed the house, had a fabulous time and I had some of the best people in the world on stage with me and in the audience. Needless to say, you'll be seeing this band of guys making music with me again & you'll definitely see me back at Club Passim!

The next night we were off to Providence, RI for a very special house show...

It's magical what the people behind The Grove have done for the community in Providence just out of their love for supporting music & culture & bringing their favorite artists into a truly warm & welcoming space. Also, did I mention we opened for The Low Anthem? Did I mention the cops came during their set? Some music needs to shake your bones in the still night.

Next up was our mad dash through traffic to NYC to play Rockwood Music Hall before having our one and only day off in a 10 day period. We even went back to Rockwood on our day off to see our friend Annalise Emerick play!

(Jon & I in the Brooklyn Botanical Garden)

We hit Philadelphia after that, and had a really late show at The Grape Room where we met some amazing people. Check out the Underwater Country Club. Nuff said.

Then driving. LOTS OF DRIVING. But we were off to Cincinnati, where we were astonished by the number of people who came to hang out at such a late show on a Tuesday night. Friends new and old came & the other bands on the bill were KILLER (The Mamadrones are pictured below). We fell in love with the sweet folks & good tunes there that night!

This is me, at 2 am when the party was STILL going on in Cincinnati.

The next day we went on a quick jaunt to Rabbit Hash, KY, just so we could say we had been there. They have a General Store from the 1800's & a dog named Lucy Lou for their mayor. I can't make this up. Eventually, we left there to play our friends' house show in Bloomington, IN. The people who braved the massive storm & hail had a cozy night in listening to amazing Indiana singer-songwriters, such as Moor Hound and Laura Balke (pictured).

Too soon we were back on the road and off to Madison, WI the next day for one of the best shows of the tour. From the get-go, the artist I had found randomly through the internet to co-bill with me was a dream to work with. Anna Laube kicks major tush in Madison and the incredible folks at Crescendo Espresso Bar & Music Cafe treated us like old friends (& treated my Grandma like a Queen, which was adorable) while putting on an incredible acoustic show with an incredible acoustic vibe. We will forever have those happy memories and the high hopes that we'll return soon!

Very little can compare to the humbling, terrifying, yet comfortable feeling I had while performing for the folks in my hometown over Memorial Day weekend. There is a lot of appreciation for music in Minnesota, and the fact that someone like me could come back and play to such large & loving crowds on two separate nights in two separate venues is astounding to me. The Three Crows Cafe & Coffeehouse is a gem for Minnesotans. While completely supportive of local music, even with a house band of their own staff, they bring in national touring acts as well as popular Minnesotan acts regularly, but always with a signature sweetness & intimacy. We were blown away, but that was only our first hometown show!

Our next show was at a larger venue, a matter of blocks from my parents' houses, one where nobody would get turned away for lack of space... the Discovery Auditorium. We drew over 100 friends, fans & family members and it couldn't have been a happier place! We retreated to a bonfire at my house after the show & caught up with old friends. My heart warms at the memories.

(Photo courtesy of Marvin Gordon)

Despite rushing through the first part of the tour (and playing 9 shows in 10 days in 8 different states) we loved each and every experience of our crazed touring schedule. We kicked back and relaxed with our families for the second part of tour, managing to squeeze more family time in due to our Chicago show falling through.

Our final two shows in Minot, ME and Portsmouth, NH were amazing, sadly we don't have pictures from them yet! We were so glad to see familiar faces  & the ocean again, though, as we eased back into the East coast.

Amazingly, Jon & I DIDN'T want to KILL each other, and even more amazingly than that, this tour was a total success and full of happy times with good friends and good music.

This of course would not have been possible without the support & kindness of SO many people! We want you to know how much we appreciate and love each and every one of you for your help & encouragement throughout this whole process!

To many more happy tours ahead-- CHEERS!

Love,

It’s April.

After April is May, and in May, I jump off a cliff, so to speak.

  I’ve been working full-time as an administrative assistant since I moved to Boston 3 ½ years ago. In that time, I’ve lived a double life. During the day, I’m a mostly-cheerful, busy violin shop receptionist, string instrument accessory specialist, Queen of the paper trail, Keeper of the phone system, Crusader for recycling & cleanliness efforts, Champion of customer relations and generally the catch-all “I can take care of that” person. At night, I’m a mostly-cheerful, busy singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and 5-string fiddle player whose schedule is saturated with rehearsals, performances, recording sessions and the occasional radio show on top of being my own promoter, booking agent & manager.

  After working all day at Job #1, I scoot to Job #2, tearing through traffic & skipping dinner to make a sound check before a show or to learn a song before rehearsal, etc., often returning home late at night. Then the next morning, I wake up and do it all again, always over-extended, always wishing for a different balance in my life. I’ve longed for the time & energy to practice my instruments, hone my songwriting, make a new album, play more shows, do more recording sessions and just generally be the best version of me in a career that makes me happiest.

  I’ve been planning this transition for years, but it’s always felt too far off and I’ve always felt like too much of a chicken to take the big leap. But having taken several years to approach the edge of the cliff, I now have no choice but to fling myself into the sky. (Please excuse my cliché metaphor.)

  *gulp*

  I’m not the type of person you’d usually find in risky situations. I stick to what is safe—from reading every known review of a car shop before going in, to repeatedly ordering the same thing at a restaurant because I know I’ll like it. I am no big risk taker… but I figure that if there is one big risk worth taking, it’s the risk of pursuing your dreams even though there is no guarantee that it will work out. You see, being a musician is not for the faint of heart. Gosh, just pursuing your dreams is not for the faint of heart. There is so much to lose and so much to gain.

  But putting that aside, I know that now is the best chance I’ll ever have to pursue this. I don’t have any delusions of grandeur, but I do have a hard-working attitude and the knowledge that any success or happiness I find will be self-made. It’s terrifying & exciting. I can’t hide behind a desk anymore or ride the fence between two careers. I’m taking away my safety net because that’s the only way I can move forward from here.

  Now don’t get too excited (or concerned, if you’re my parents reading this), I’m not totally taking a flying leap into full-time musicianhood. Job #1 has kindly offered me a part-time job for when I return from my tour (more details to come!). So, that takes a little pressure off of my musical endeavors to be my only source of income.

I am a strong believer that if you do your best with every situation or decision, you’re going to end up in an okay place. I have no idea where jumping off this cliff may lead, but I do know that it’ll all be okay, with the chance that things will turn out way better than I ever imagined it could.

  There is one thing that is certain, though: without the support, encouragement and mentoring I’ve received these last few years, this cliff-jump wouldn’t be possible. You were the ones who convinced me I had the wings to fly and now I believe you.

HOLY CRAP, THIS IS HARD.

NOBODY KNOWS WHO YOU ARE. The image you’ve spend the last 5 years developing means nothing outside of your home base. You’re trying to reach out and meet people everywhere and develop a network so people DO know who you are elsewhere, but nobody wants you cause they don’t know you. All they see is your website, an email they probably won’t read all the way through, and how big your draw will be (aka how much money you will make them).

EXPECT THE WORST AND YOU WON’T BE DISAPPOINTED. The first confirmation email I got for the venue I wanted on the day I wanted it granted me the most amazing feeling. That being said, if I tell myself that I should expect to lose money, play a bunch of shows where nobody is listening, have car troubles and to have my gear stolen, I’ll have a great tour comparatively if it ends up being any better than that. Trust me, I’m working hard to be sure that this tour exceeds those expectations.

  FOLLOW UP LIKE CRAZY. I hate to say it, but in the past I have heartily judged people who seem waaaay too intense about setting details, confirming, and over-communicating about things. Now I know why. Teach me your ways, over-communicators! My Minnesotan sensibilities still shock me with waves of guilt every time I send a follow-up email because I feel like I might be “bothering” someone. I’m sorry I judged you. I totally get it now.

  THIS IS A FULL-TIME JOB AND AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT. This is a new test of my organizational, creative and mental skills. Planning a tour on your own is crazy and I feel sorry for anyone who has had to do this, especially while trying to keep the rest of an over-stuffed life together. Those of you nodding at your computer screens right now, whether you are laughing at my naivety about tour-planning or whether you are in the same ring of hell I’m in right now-- I have a great deal of respect for you. I’ve consistently fallen asleep writing booking emails at my computer and I never feel like I’m able to do enough or accomplish enough headway in the time that I have.

While I was in Nashville studying classical violin, I timidly entered the world of jazz as a vocalist. After a lifetime in classical violin, that seems like a likely next step, right?

WRONG. It was foreign to me, awkward, challenging, a whole new realm of music that I didn't even understand, and I loved it. The jazz instructors at the school of music welcomed me with infectious enthusiasm and taught me all about the jazz greats, the groove of it all and helped me find my voice. They changed my life.

One of the many instructors I had the privilege of working with was the great Billy Adair.

Like many of the professors I had at Vanderbilt, I didn't realize just how incredible it was that I had the chance to study with him and call him a mentor. For those of you who didn't know him, Billy was just THE MAN. A loyal friend, a leader by example, the Blair School of Music's sweetheart and a true fixture in Nashville with a huge amount of experience and credentials to back up his guru status.

Billy gave everything to those around him. He truly cared about his students. It wasn't just teaching, it was personal. He'd keep the door to his tiny office on the 3rd floor open and if you passed by and weren't in a hurry, he'd ask you to take a seat and chat. I visited the school only once after I graduated, way back in 2011... (how has it been so long?) I remember thinking about how I had walked those halls only a year before and yet I felt like an unwelcome stranger who had no business being there. I rounded the corner by Billy's office and saw his door open with the warm glow of a light emanating from inside. I knocked on the door frame and grinned when a surprised Billy turned around and gave me one of his big bear hugs. We sat to chat and he spent a good 20 minutes trying to convince me to move back to Nashville. God, it was good to see him.

If anyone could've convinced me, it would've been Billy. He had complete faith in his students, he encouraged them to trust themselves and their musicality and develop it. We were never "wrong", but we always felt the drive to learn more, be better and do better, not just in music. He believed in me before I could believe in myself--one of the greatest gifts a person can give. That little conversation we had in his office back in 2011 stuck with me. He almost had me convinced to move back. I thought I would visit again and again and have more conversations and bear hugs, but I didn't. Now he's gone.

That fact haunts me.

I didn't thank him enough. I didn't appreciate him enough. I didn't tell him what a difference he made and what an impression he left on me and my pursuit of music and happiness. I only hope that he knew that this is how we all felt and how we all wish that he was still with us so we could thank him every day for being the amazing person he was.

The sun shone a little less brightly the day that Billy died-- taken from us too soon to cancer at age 66. It's funny that I never thought about his age until I read his obituary. He was ageless, perpetually young at heart, as wise as could be, yet a soul as magical as his was still bound by the inevitabilities of time, life and aging. I suppose that is what makes our few days on this earth so precious.

Nowadays, my thoughts are on his legacy:

Billy hasn't really left us. Because he lived, because he touched our lives, he will never truly be gone. The light he gave us doesn't fade away, it became a part of us and it's up to us to pass on that light.

Become the legacy.

Bad gigs. Everybody has ‘em. It’s easy to laugh it off when it’s just a horribly set up gig and you’re just a victim to its horrible-ness, but what if it’s your fault entirely?

I will admit, I’ve been burning the candle at three ends, not two. Actually, if we’re talking in metaphors, I’ve effectively set a blow torch on the candle and obliterated the sucker entirely, but I digress. Between my full-time job, the 5 different gigs in a 6-day period, and moving out of my apartment, I’m having what you might call: one hell of a crazy week.

So, yesterday when I had to leave work early in order to arrive late at a gig, then load in all the sound equipment and my instruments and struggle with setting up only to realize that I didn’t have a single XLR cable for my microphone, I panicked and suddenly found myself face-to-face with a few ugly truths...

Ugly Truth #1: Ya failed, kid.

I had spent a week arranging to borrow the proper sound equipment (cause dag yo, I don’t have money), loading things in and out of my car and the two apartments I’ve been bouncing between in the hopes of finally rocking a gig that I’ve struggled with previously. And after all of that, there I was-- late and without one stinkin’ XLR cable. It was so simple, it was stupid. FAIL.

Ugly Truth #2: Disappointing yourself (& others) is the worst.

While the people at the gig were very sweet and calm about the whole thing and I tried to keep my cool, I was horribly angry and disappointed in myself and I felt awful about disappointing the people who were so nice to hire me. I looked up the nearest open music store (a good 20 min drive away from the gig, mind you) and hopped in my car, barreling down back roads as I contemplated what an absolute mess I was. I care immensely about being professional and doing my best. This was not my best and I was ridiculously mad at myself about it.

Ugly Truth #3: It got wicked ugly.

In conflict, we often find whatever ways possible to put the blame or problem-solving on other people. I'm not sayin' that it's right, but It’s emotionally easier that way and it protects the ego. In this instance I alone had caused the problem and there was no going back to fix it, just moving forward from it as best as possible. About 10 minutes into my drive on the struggle bus to get an XLR cable, I hit rock bottom. Calling my boyfriend to wail into the phone while wallowing in self-pity and wanting to give up, my heart ached for the evening’s problems to just go away. It was a low point I'm not proud of. But then a voice in my head said:

“You caused this. This is your fault. Yeah, you’ve come across as really unprofessional so far, but you have to do your best moving forward. Buck up, Eva. Get the cable. Go to the gig. Play music. Apologize profusely. Smile, accept that you messed this up, and prepare for them never to hire you again.”

What did I learn? I learned that you can’t check too many times that you have what you need, or be too prepared. DUH. Seriously. Although that certainly wasn’t the first time I’ve ever been disappointed in myself, it was a good reminder that picking yourself up from self-inflicted disappointment is hard, but moving forward as best you can is the only way to make a positive outcome from the worst.

Learn from your mistakes. Learn from your bad gigs.

In the end, I was proud of myself for how the rest of the evening went. I apologized and refused to let them pay me, took full responsibility for my mega-mistake, moved forward as best as I could, but beyond all of that, eventually I got to play music. After the emotional roller-coaster, singing and playing felt like putting on my comfiest pair of pajamas and slippers. I retreated into my musical happy place.

So kids, don't be an idiot like Eva.

Hey, we have to talk...

A disclaimer before we continue: I am not a perfect human, and goodness knows there are people out there who think poorly of me, but having witnessed, experienced or committed these acts of bad manners myself, I feel this is a conversation worth having.