DADGAD Coffeehouse - Interviews

Jim & Sam Whitman
by Janyce Boynton

Lund

How did you learn to play guitar?
Jim: I started playing in West Virginia because of the isolation of it all—everybody else down there played something. A moonshiner named Opie Shamblin showed me my first chords. I took some guitar classes at school.
Sam: I think that’s where a lot of his Southern influence comes from. I know it had a huge impact on his life.
Jim: It was a pivotal point. I was this bad-ass from Massachusetts with long hair and marijuana. Don’t "f" with me! The yokels down there took that chip off my shoulder. My music and art teachers had a huge impact on my life. I left my aunt and uncle’s place, lived on the street, and was taken in by a family. I worked for a newspaper—they all played guitar. I guess that’s where the music started for me. I started writing songs initially because I found it easier to write songs than to learn everybody else’s and I couldn’t afford to go out and buy music.

How do you pick topics for writing songs?
Jim: Sometimes, I’ll write something topical, but I don’t actually sit down and try to write something specifically. I’ll just sit down and get into a riff on the guitar and it’s there.

So the music comes first for you and then the lyrics?


	I played through the songs and she bought me my lunch. I said, Wow! I can do this and eat!

Jim: Sometimes, the music comes first and other times it comes in increments. I pick up the guitar, get into a riff and there’s a little melody and I get some words.
Sam: Rarely have I seen him sit down with something in mind that he wanted to write a song about. It was quite a thing for me to get used to, living with him. The first time, he just disappeared—off writing somewhere. I learned very quickly not to bother him when he was writing a song [laughing]. It’s amazing to watch.
Jim: Sometimes, I think I’m a poet that wants to be a musician and other times, a musician that wants to be a poet. My influences are obvious; I like songs that are lyrical. Ever since I took songwriting seriously, I listened to Dylan. That inspired me. I’ve come to realize that, even before I listened to him, I listened to other people who were influenced by him.
My father was a big country music fan and my teenage brother listened to rock’n’roll. He had all the forty-fives—the Beatles, the Animals, the Byrds—stuff like that. My parents did have a few albums I listened to, like Marty Rollins and storyteller musicians—Johnny Cash and stuff of that nature.

Has the recording process changed your approach to songwriting?
Jim: I think in terms of harmony lines for her.
Sam: It’s not a one-man project anymore. He’s always got me in the back of his mind.
Jim: I pay more attention to melody than I used to. Some of my songs in the past, the melodies were sort of flat because I wanted to jumble up all the words.
I sometimes like messing around with geography. What do I think about the Southwest or South or the Northeast? And that helps you to write when you start thinking in terms of other areas and what’s underneath the melody. Twilite Motel is a place in Ellsworth.
Sam: On a Sunday drive into Ellsworth, I noticed the sign. I am a photographer and stopped to take a picture. I got back in the car and Jim said, "There’s a song in that!" As soon as we got back home, he wrote Twilite Motel. There was the concept for the new album.
Twilite Motel was recorded analog instead of digital, so it’s got a nice warm sound to it. Purposely, we did it that way. We went with a new studio just to change things. We don’t want to be stagnant.
Jim: I didn’t realize my writing had progressed. I just kept doing what I was doing until Jerry [Lund] said he noticed a difference—something’s happening. I began to realize something was happening. I wasn’t writing the same way.
Sam: There was a period of noticeable change.
Jim: Anyone who’s trying in this business—even if they’re somewhat successful should go to coffeehouses.

Can you describe one of your favorite performances?

Jim: My favorite performance was my very first. It was in West Virginia and I didn’t have a penny in my pocket. I had this old guitar with a piece of bailing twine for a strap and walked into Harper’s Restaurant in Spencer with two other guys. The waitress said, "What you gonna have, honey?" I said I didn’t have any money. She said, "You play me a couple songs on your guitar and I’ll buy you lunch." I knew Wildwood Flower and House of the Rising Sun. I couldn’t sing, but I played through the songs and she bought me my lunch. I said, "Wow! I can do this and eat!"

How did you overcome stage fright?
Sam: Experience. It took me quite some time. I was like a deer in the headlights up there. That got old, because I would hear that after every performance.
Jim: I tell myself this is my space, like my living room, and these are my guests. I try to think of the audience in terms of an individual, instead of a bunch of individuals. I try to talk to them that way—just like they were your best friend.

Sam: I’m notorious for at least one or two squeaks when I’m singing. When we get going on a set, it’s got to be there and I’ve got to get it out of the way. I used to be mortified. Now I say, "oh, there’s the squeak" and I can relax.
Jim: I’ve had times when I’ve had the wrong harmonica in my rack. I start to play and be in the wrong key. I’d stop and say, "I’ve got to change gears here." I’d say, "Now where was I?" And someone in the audience would say, "You’re at this line" or whatever. They all clap and they love it. I think it’s like some people go to races to see if somebody will crash and burn. I think there’s that element in some audiences. We can’t forget that music is supposed to be fun, too.
Sam: You get too serious about anything in life, really, and it takes away from it. If you’re more relaxed and having fun with something, it enhances it.
I think one of the good, but different feelings for me was when I was asked by others to come up and sing harmony. It hits home that you’re actually doing something right. To sing with Jim—that’s what I do—but to get up with someone else and have them have confidence that you can get up there and do that. That was quite moving for me.

The Whitman’s CDs are Back Again (2001) and Twilite Motel (2003). For more information email whitmans@midmaine.com, call (207) 487-3290, or write to 18 South Street, Pittsfield, Maine 04967.