Paleo to Perform at Clawfoot House November 17

By Cory Kibler
     
Paleo, aka David Strackany, is pushing the boundaries of rock-lifestyle in several different ways, and it has everything to do with the music.  It’s not because he’s partying 24/7 with trace amounts of drugs on all of his possessions.  He doesn’t come off as decadent or concerned with his status.  Instead, he’s a thoughtful, grounded guy who is always--and I mean always--writing, recording, and touring.
     
Paleo is probably most well known for his “Song Diary” project, which consisted of writing a song a day for a full year (Spring 2006 to Spring 2007).  And that’s just the tip of the iceberg: when I took a look at his website and saw his tour history, I started to feel exhausted myself.  It is expansive to say the very least.

     
He’s played Lincoln a few times before and we are fortunate enough to snag him again.  This time around, he’ll be playing the Clawfoot House on Tuesday, November 17th at 8 p.m. with Bear Country and Sean Pratt, all for a mere $5.  Clawfoot House is a home-venue located at 1042 “F” Street.  Star City Blog recently caught up with Paleo to chat about songwriting, touring, and hundreds of dead flies.   

Your "write a song every day for a year" project indicates a very deliberate songwriting process.  Is the approach you take to songwriting very intentional or is it more organic (or is it something different altogether)?  Which approach is usually the most rewarding for you and why?
 
Paleo: Writing a song's a little like walking a cat. The song's gonna go where the song's gonna go, and you as the songwriter may freely exert your will as needed, but you're not really in charge. That being said, I am deliberate about when I take the cat for a walk. Sometimes the clouds will part and the sun will shine and the rain will pour songs into my skull, but more often than not, it's about sitting down and staring at a blank piece of paper for hours.

And since my schedule is very demanding time-wise, I have to aggressively seek out those spare hours in between shows and traveling and booking and recording and laundry and eating and all the other things that Pacman the minutes of the day.

When you set out to write a song, do you have any specific criteria or goals in mind for the finished product or do just write what comes naturally?  If there is any specific end-goal you're trying to reach?  If you don't have any of these conscious goals/criteria, what makes you satisfied with a song once it's completed?
 
Paleo: I have no goal except to finish it, but knowing when it's done is not always easy. One of my favorite movies is a movie called Six Degrees Of Separation and there's a moment in there where Donald Sutherland is talking about the moment a painting is done. He explains that the difference between a great painting and a piece of shit is simply knowing when to stop. It really couldn't get any more true than that. It's pretty easy to overcook or under-cook these things. But when a song is truly done you know it. It's like falling in love.
 
Did having such a dense songwriting schedule for a year improve or detract from your songs/songwriting?
 
Paleo: Oh, improve. I've never written better songs than the songs I wrote that year. And I never got more out of it. It was like living in a trance.   
  
In the last ten or so years, the definitions and notions of what "success" is in the music business has changed exponentially.  In your opinion, how is "success" defined within the context of music? 
 
Paleo: Insofar as money and art and fame and vanity go, there is no such thing as success. You live, you do things, and then you die. Nothing you make will be remembered. No one you meet will ever truly know you. Indeed, there is no "you" to know.

But if I were to indulge in the abstraction of success, I'd say it had something to do with being at peace with whatever happens, in being able to see the beauty and perfection in everything [and] to see success in everything. From the simplest things to the not so simple things, from the roach to the office building, to the senseless slaughter and sexual molestation and hatred, to the beauty of new love and the ritual of families. From hate crimes to charity, to hand, to fist, to pen, to sword, to leaf, to genetic engineering, to fake eyelashes, to wrinkles, to the holding of hands, to bad action movies, to first kisses.  
 
As an avid and incessant touring artist, what role do you think touring plays for an artist/band in the year 2009?
 
Paleo: For me, it is a way to feel alive and to feed myself without having to participate in economies that cloud my ability to see the light of life. For other people, it might be different things. It might be about a goal that they have to be able to say they have been somewhere or to see or become something or someone. It may have been about those things for me at some point too, I suppose.

But of course, from a music business perspective, touring is essential. It's moving units. It's grift and gasoline. We put the con in connection. No new technology will ever replace the feeling of people playing music for other people in a room somewhere. No computer will ever simulate that thrill. It is one of the oldest human tricks in the book. The boy or girl you were meant to meet may be there. The secret you so want to learn may be unlocked there, as he calls down the rain onto dry timeless land with ancient song and ancient dance.
 
You've been to Lincoln before: do you have a favorite place to eat/hang out while here? 
 
Paleo: There was this kid's house I stayed at once outside of town, and it was completely empty, this huge house, except for him. And in the upstairs bedroom where I stayed, there were a hundred dead flies piled on the sill of this window and scattered out in a 5 foot blast radius on the cream shag carpet. I slept in that room for two nights. I'd say that was my favorite place in Lincoln.