An updated version of this article is here: http://www.slideshare.net/Revkin/why-songs-not After 30 years as a prize-winning science journalist and author, Andy Revkin has finally carved the time to record some of the songs he's been writing and performing in that same span. Here's how a scare from a "lucky" stroke and the help of a lot of musical friends, including Dar Williams, combined, resulting in his first CD -- "A Very Fine Line." Download: http://www.Revkin.bandcamp.com Community: http://www.Facebook.com/veryfinelinemusic Home page: http://Veryfinelines.com

1. The Path to “A Very Fine Line”
For three decades, my core occupation has been conveying stories about the
environment and other subjects through journalism, books and blogging. But there
are some subjects, situations and feelings that just cry out to
be sung instead of typed. That fact has led me back to one of
my first loves – music. “A Very Fine Line,” a collection of 10 of
my songs, was recorded and mixed from February through
September, 2013, in the Beacon, New York, studio of Joe
Johnson, with contributions from a batch of brilliantly
musical friends, including the songwriter Dar Williams,
mandolin wizard Mike Marshall and virtuoso fiddler Bruce
Molsky. You can learn about all of the contributing musicians
below.
My musical journey began with my parents, who both
enjoyed singing informally – mainly folk songs and sea songs
they learned through their shared love of sailing and my dad’s time in the Merchant
Marine. My father’s baritone rendition of the Banana Boat Song – “…come mister
tallyman, tally me bananas…” – echoes in my mind as I type this.
Another influence was geography. I grew up in Rhode Island, a bastion of folk music
and the blues. While in high school, my brother and I began learning guitar, at first
sharing my mother’s nylon-stringed instrument. I instinctively (if unwisely) played
the guitar upside down, creating my own
chord fingerings by placing whatever
fingertips felt best on the locations
indicated by the black dots in a chord
book.
Jamming with my brother, Jim, in the early 1970s
And of course there was radio. I came of
age in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s,
when you could listen to WPRO and hear,
in the span of an hour, everything from
Dylan and the Beatles to the Four Seasons
and Herb Alpert. This album has traces of
all those sounds and styles.
At 17, I bought my first guitar. It was in pieces – an old acoustic that was sitting half
mummified in crumbling masking tape in the corner of a music store in Halifax,
Nova Scotia. (I was visiting that city as a high school junior traveling with a friend’s
family to a youth sailing competition.) The guitar looked like it had been through a
bar fight, but I could see it was a Gibson, so I swooped.

2. At first, the shop owner said it wasn’t for sale. But then,
perhaps realizing he had a lot of work ahead of him to
restore it, he sold it to me for $35. When I got home, my dad,
a practical and thrifty man, didn’t hide his anger. How could I
pay $35 for a broken guitar? If I didn’t fix it by summer’s end,
he said, he would throw it away.
Me and my Gibson, 1998
I buckled down in his wood shop and fixed it, replacing a
shredded side with thin mahogany plywood that I steamed
into shape. I still have that beaten, bruised, but booming
1949 sunburst Southern Jumbo (yes, and a few others now).
I quickly learned basic mandolin and banjo, as well. I made my first “serious” money
as a musician (up to $100 a day!) busking in Newport during the Bicentennial
celebrations of 1976 with my friend Mike Bonaiuto, who had an attention-grabbing
hammered dulcimer. Then journalism took over for the most part.
In the early 1990’s, going through a rough patch, I began writing and performing
songs – about everything from piles of
bills to an epic fight with a bigmouth
bass, and of course love and loss. But I
never got around to recording seriously
until now. I was spurred in part by a
2011 stroke – a very lucky stroke in my
case – that for about a month deprived
me of the use of my right hand (playing
left handed, that’s the one that does
much of the work).
Performing in a WPLN songwriter showcase at
Nashville's famed Bluebird Café in 1997
As the title song of this album goes,
“Most of your life you spend walking a
very fine line.” I didn’t want to waste any more time.

3. Life is a Band
I was mainly a solo performer from high school on
beyond college, but shifted increasingly to playing
with other musicians, particularly after moving from
Brooklyn to the Hudson Highlands north of New
York City in 1991. It’d be hard to live in this region
and not play with others, given that the others
include Pete Seeger and the galaxy of talented
singers and players for whom he has been a
lodestone. You can get a taste of this scene on the
first Friday evening of any month on the Beacon
waterfront at the Beacon Sloop Club. Pete wrote out
the musical notation for “A Very Fine Line” for me
after he first heard that tune at the club years ago.
Click this link to see his scribbled ideas for some
Playing with David Bernz and Pete
suggested tweaks to “Arlington,” my song about the
Seeger, Beacon Strawberry Festival.
uncertain future of the national cemetery. From this
same musical circle came David Bernz, a longtime Seeger accompanist who recently
produced two of the folk singer’s Grammy-winning albums. David offered valuable
ideas on several of my tunes. More important, he introduced me to Lisa Mechaley in
1993. We married not long afterward, and this album is dedicated to her.
In the early 2000’s, when I was commuting to The New York Times regularly on the
Hudson line, I got to know several musicians frequenting the Garrison train
platform. Peter Rundquist, a great guitarist and blues singer, was a jingle composer.
Jerry Krenach, who’d drummed
with the likes of Lou Reed and
Chris Whitley, was a music
arranger, producer and
supervisor. Art Labriola, a
piano virtuoso, was scoring
films. We all craved twangy
delta blues and country tunes
and began regularly jamming
and then performing what we
Playing with Uncle Wade at Philipstown.info in Cold Spring, N.Y. ended up calling “simple music
for complicated times.” Our band was called Uncle Wade, after the stage name of
Wade Ward, a frailing banjo player. (We never played any of his music as a band; we
just liked his name.)
The rule of thumb was that we’d each mainly play the instrument we were least
good at. For me that was mandolin and screechy fiddle. Soon we were joined by Al
Hemberger, a bass player, songwriter and owner of a reknowned Bronxville studio,

4. The Loft. Our favorite gig was playing each June on the Hudson River Sloop
Clearwater during the Clearwater Festival. You can see and hear us here and here.
Click here for a show we did in the cozy back room of Philipstown.info, a
homegrown newspaper. Uncle Wade is no more, but the mixes of “Bills, Bills, Bills”
and “Arlington” on the album are built around a couple of Uncle Wade recording
sessions. “Black Bird,” my song about a miner’s death, was inspired by the true story
of the untimely death of Jerry Krenach’s great grandfather.
I sing “Between the River and the Rails” with the
Guinan's musical gang in 2009. (Journal-News photo)
Another influence on the texture of this
album was the monthly musical
gatherings at Guinan’s, a family-run
store and vest-pocket pub that graced
the Garrison waterfront for many
decades but is now a memory. You can
learn about Guinan’s in “Little Chapel on
the River,” a fine book by my friend
Gwendolyn Bounds.
The sessions there ranged from ragged
to remarkable, but were always profoundly musical and heartfelt. They were mostly
led by Jack McAndrew, an accountant by day but an earnest and passionate lover of
Irish tunes on those Thursday evenings. His inconsistent tempos were more than
compensated for by his spirit and smile. Like Jim and John Guinan, the father and
son who were the cornerstones of the place, Jack has passed on. My song “Between
the River and the Rails” is dedicated to these three fine souls.
The Songs and Musicians
A Very Fine Line, a song about life’s close calls, features Joe Johnson, who’s much
more than a mix master, on electric guitar (the
whimsical slide licks were recorded on George
Harrison’s birthday). Joe has a great ear for the right
note at the right time, whether tweaking tracks or
playing his own guitar lines. Al Hemberger played
bass and Eric Starr is on drums. Harmonies are by
my friends from Motherlode Trio – Stacy Labriola,
Patti Pelican and Terry Textor Platz. I play guitar.
This song and three others derive their energy in
large part from the keyboard tracks contributed by
Joel Diamond, a composer and longtime session
player who was introduced to me by Joe Johnson.
There’s a fun short film about him by Anne Trauben.

5. Arlington, my ballad about the fabled past and uncertain future of the national
cemetery, features Dar Williams as guest vocalist,
Ben Neill on trumpet and Motherlode Trio on
harmonies. Also playing are Art Labriola on piano
and organ, Mark Murphy on upright bass, Jerry
Krenach on drums and Peter Rundquist on guitar. I
play guitar and banjo.
Blame it On Biology became something of a tribute to Herb Alpert after Ben Neill
started experimenting with some fun trumpet lines. Also playing: Joel
Diamond on keyboards, Joe Johnson guitar, Eric Starr on drums, Mark
Murphy on upright bass. Motherlode Trio and Al Hemberger sing
harmonies. I play guitar. Ben, best known for his pioneering digital
“mutantrumpet” compositions, can play with simple grace, too. Listen
closely to Arlington when I sing “bugles blow.” Thanks to Ben, it feels
like you’re standing in the misty hills there.
Breakneck Ridge is my ode to the Hudson Highlands, featuring master pipe maker
(and player) Seth Gallagher on uilleann pipes, Steve
Kent on bansuri flute, Al Hemberger on bass, Joe
Johnson on guitar and synthesizer, Eric Starr on drums
and Al Hemberger and Motherlode on harmonies. I play
guitar, mandolin, banjo and fiddle. There are a couple of
magical notes in the “breakdown” section that, to me,
have all the growl and bend of a great rock guitar riff.
Black Bird, inspired by a true mining tragedy, was initially recorded by Joe Johnson
as a solo live performance by me at a Cold Spring
songwriters’ circle, with Ken Veltz providing
light percussion on cajon. I invited the great
fiddler Bruce Molsky and bassist Mark Murphy
to enrich this recording in the studio. I hope you
don’t mind having a live performance with
studio tracks added after the fact.
I pledge we’ll do this tune live together soon!

6. Grandpa’s Cadillac, a celebration of an amazing car, features Joe Johnson on
electric guitar, Art Labriola on pedal steel guitar and Joel
Diamond on keyboards. Also playing are Al Hemberger on bass,
the versatile Eric Starr on drums and yours truly on guitar. In
this photo, Eric is working out his part on Breakneck Ridge. You
can check out his jazz side here.
Bills Bills Bills features Art Labriola on dobro, with Peter Rundquist on guitar,
Mark Murphy on bass and Jerry Krenach on drums.
Al Hemberger and Peter Rundquist sing
harmonies. I play mandolin and guitar. This was a
standard tune from our days in Uncle Wade and
was in part recorded in a kitchen session by Joe
Johnson several years before this full recording
was completed. Every time I hear it, I miss that
band.
A rare Uncle Wade New York City gig.
Liberated Carbon, a three-minute history of humanity’s energy choices, features
Joe Johnson on electric guitar and Joel Diamond on
keyboards. Also playing are Al Hemberger on bass and
Ted Hemberger on drums. Al Hemberger and Motherlode
provide harmonies. I play guitar. Terry, Patti and Stacy
really brought this song, and five others, to life.
Between the River and the Rails, recalling the splendors of a bygone Irish pub,
features Steve Kent on penny
whistle, Bruce Molsky on
fiddle, Seth Gallagher on
uilleann pipes and the climate
scientist Raymond
Pierrehumbert on accordion.
Joe Johnson added guitar and
keyboards. Al Hemberger
played bass and Eric Starr drums. The grand chorus is Motherlode Trio along with
Al Hemberger, Russ Cusick and the singer-songwriter Derek A. Dempsey. I play
guitar, mandolin and banjo. That green neon shamrock still glows in a lot of people’s
memories.

7. Song for Lisa features the amazing Mike Marshall on mandolin and Mark Murphy
on upright bass, with yours truly on guitar and Eric Starr
on drums. I met Mike in 2008, when we both attended a
meeting in Woods Hole, Mass., on the role of the Internet
in fostering global progress. I brought my guitar of
course and he ended up joining me, with hardly a warmup, on this instrumental.
I explored various options for mastering the album,
considering engineers from Los Angeles to Nashville,
but kept things local in the end after I found Matthew
Agoglia, a talented émigré to Beacon from New York
City and the major-league outfit Masterdisk.
Gratitude: This album owes much to Joe Johnson, who worked with me from
February through September on every sonic detail, and also to each of the musicians
above. Many gentle listeners helped me refine these
songs and productions, including Pete Seeger, David
Bernz, David Bayer, Dean Friedman, Steve Gillette,
Cindy Mangsen, Vince Bell, Susan Werner and Leo Sacks
– and my patient wife, Lisa Mechaley. Any remaining
warts and glitches are my doing. I snapped this picture
when Joe and I wrapped the final tweak on the last
song. That’s a wrap – for now.
- Andy Revkin, Garrison, New York, October, 2013