Lately, I’ve been feeling sentimental and emotional about moving up here to Seattle, I mean, more so than usual. Maybe it’s Mercury in retrograde or too many Soy products in my system. All jokes aside, since last Friday’s live show at Hollow Earth Radio, I’ve wanted to do nothing but write about my experiences in the music scene so far. It could have been the fact that my friend, a wonderful, soulful, and powerful artist by the name of Aline Vida sent me a link to a fellow female photographer in the Seattle music scene, Danette Davis. Danette described her music experiences and her thoughts of feeling like family and finding her soul tribe, something I could relate to in great waves. I might not see someone for a year, but the moment we see each other again, it feels like just last week. This got me thinking, “It’s about time I wrote my own little stories on the music scene in Seattle as I’ve experienced it up until now.” I had attempted it in the moment, but sometimes, a story needs a little time to sit, and like a very fine wine, the notes are brought out even more. I’m not a professional writer, by any means, though I do write a lot, so please, if you care, bear with me. This will be an ongoing project of mine, something not unfamiliar to those who know me, and hopefully I can continue to do this on into the future. This is just about the beginning. There are too many stories, to many artists, to be crammed into one article to do them justice.
Let me at first be blunt. Photographing musicians was certainly not a top priority when I first started out. I had moved up here from Nevada for the greenery, and to try my hand in becoming a budding artist in Seattle’s industry. It was actually an introduction to California music artist Karina Naime by music producer and good friend of mine, Ro, that first got my interest piqued. I was commissioned to photograph the both of them over at Evolution Studios in Bellevue as they recorded their earlier stages of one of their earliest songs. I recall thinking that this was the “coolest thing ever”. The standard “I’m with the band” mentality got a hold of me for about an hour before I calmed down and simmered into what I can only describe as pure excitement. Getting to experience such a beautiful and raw thing as watching and documenting the creative process of other artists is a privilege. It took me back to the days of galavanting around town back in my old Chicagoan life where a few of my metalhead friends would let me see behind their creative process as well as watching them play for random strangers on the street. It was heart warming and altogether memorable. Oh, sweet sentimentality. Also, if you haven’t guessed by now, I am a hardcore transplant.
At Evolution, I ended up talking to Eden, the guy running the place, about my Invisible World Project, one of the real reasons why I wanted to move up here. As I waited for Karina and Ro, he came out from behind the counter and sat with me a while, genuinely interested in what I had to say, expressing the importance of my work. He proceeded to tell me a little bit about his background and then mentioned a few places around the studio that would be good for photographing Karina. I remember him being so worried about me bouncing around the parking lot in the dark that he told me that if anyone came swerving around the corner in their car to just flash them with my big old flash(the one that many artists now have endured), and I should be okay. “Wow, this guy is really nice! Why am I so surprised?” popped into my head. I guess Seattle and Washington still has a mixed reputation that blankets their warm interior. Not that I’ve really experienced it, but Seattle Freeze, anyone? Regarding both Ro and Karina, photographing them, I fell into a surprising state of calm and excitement both at once. I had been so nervous the day before, my stomach was in knots, but I knew I had to do it. It was that “Push”, and when push came to shove, I discovered that I was loving it. I was totally comfortable shooting in such an intimate space. Also, the lighting was clean enough that I barely had to do any editing later, definitely with a little help from my fill flash. They were both so kind and understanding during the whole shoot and the lunch we had a day or so after that I realized, I wanted to do more of this. So I did.
“They were both so kind and understanding during the whole shoot and the lunch we had a day or so after that I realized, I wanted to do more of this. So I did.”
The second “Push” came not too long after that. Actually, it was a simultaneous immersion with the in-studio shoot. I was introduced to one of the members of the band, Timberfoot, through a mutual friend. Initially, I had wanted information for my Invisible World Project and was told he could help. While that path was fruitless, it led me to another more fruitful path. This new friend invited me to see his band play live and was delighted when I told him I did photography. Interest piqued, I decided to wad up all my courage and take it with me to see this Live Music Experience. Holy cow! Most people who meet me in the music scene will ask me what my favorite venue to shoot is, and I will swear up and down that the High Dive is my favorite. The lighting is great, there’s plenty of room for a Ten Man Brass Band (really like, twenty people brass band or some other large group) to stand up on stage, the angles are workable, and the energy is vibrant. Sure, now more experienced, I realize there are many more wonderful places to shoot, but High Dive will always hold a soft spot in my heart.
The bands themselves were unexpected, in a very good way. I remember listening to Timberfoot’s music on Spotify ahead of time thinking, “Holy heck. These guys are hecka good. And their recording sounds great!” That last part seems a little weird coming from a non-musical person like me, but hey, I appreciate quality effort when I hear it, I guess. There is an apparent chemistry amongst these hearty fellows as well as with the people around them. Their willingness to engage in conversation all the while being wonderfully lighthearted and warm had me floored. I didn’t feel like, “just the Photographer”. I felt like I was sitting amongst friends. I particularly dug their song “Bear in Mind”, crescendoing with harmonic roughness and smooth effortlessness all at the same time. “Bear in mind, before you die, I might try to break on through to the other side,” sang Joe, the lead singer of Timberfoot, while bassist Trevor and guitarist Jon hypnotically sang backing vocals. At one point, lead guitarist, Josh, the one who invited me to the gig, pulled out what I thought to be a violin bow and played his guitar with what I could only take as talented, creative, musical humor. I won’t even pretend to know what I’m talking about when I say their drummer, Jimmy, had good rhythm and fills, but he did them well and was pretty amazing to boot. Their songs overall hit me in the “feel-goods” and had me swaying with a big goofy grin on my face which I hid behind the camera, a method I would later use quite often, especially during this entire show. Laden with heavy and rich earthy tones, for some odd reason, every time I listen to their music, I imagine a group of forest animals playing on stage then getting into a spaceship in some abstract nineties music video kind of way. That’s the place their music takes me. It’s just that good. Maybe I just need more sleep.
“There is an apparent chemistry amongst these hearty fellows as well as with the people around them. Their willingness to engage in conversation all the while being wonderfully lighthearted and warm had me floored. I didn’t feel like, “just the Photographer”. I felt like I was sitting amongst friends.”
Another reason that had me smiling was getting to watch music artist Vaens play that night as well. Alex, the lead singer, keyboardist, and dancer, isn’t your typical suave hair-flipping artist. When his hair flips, he does it with pizzazz, a kick, a twist, and an end pose. Not too many people can “Michael Jackson” their way across the stage like he does while singing and playing the keyboard, but he manages to do it. I might be exaggerating a little bit, but he’s definitely still worth seeing. By the end of “We Belong Together”, he had the whole crowd clapping and dancing, something not uncommon at Vaens shows. Who can listen to a Vaens song and not at least bob their head a little? It’s inhuman.
“Who can listen to a Vaens song and not at least bob their head a little? It’s inhuman.”
Palatine Trio’s lead singer, Zach Horton has the kind of voice that sends you back into distant golden memories fading into graying days. There was a melodic power in his voice constructively and creatively backed by the other members of the band. Propelling you forward with a progressive, complex, funk-force, Palatine Trio pushes the boundaries of what we think music should be and then transcends that. Zach knows this. Seth knows this. Thomas knows this. The other band members know this. You too will know this if you listen to their music. Seeing them live at High Dive taught me this, and I now know this too.
“Propelling you forward with a progressive, complex, funk-force, Palatine Trio pushes the boundaries of what we think music should be and then transcends that.”
The last act of the night was Brianna Skye and the Dark Clouds. I recall feeling a bit sad at the weird realization that most people don’t always stay for the last act because Brianna’s voice was heavenly. I refused to leave. As people filtered out, I stood there, oddly starstruck by her soft but powerful vulnerability as she sung about her hometown and moving around. I get it. Being a nomad can make you sentimental. Things don’t always go your way. Stuff happens. We push on. We push through. When you can be as soft and as strong as this woman is, you know you’re getting somewhere.
“I get it. Being a nomad can make you sentimental. Things don’t always go your way. Stuff happens. We push on. We push through. When you can be as soft and as strong and as this woman is, you know you’re getting somewhere.”
By the end of the night, I had learned something inside me had awoken. While I’ve always been interested in photographing artists on the side, I never realized the opportunities that photographing them live could open. There is a truth and vulnerability of capturing that moment when an artist bares their souls to an audience they don’t fully know. There is a beautiful strength in being able to compose something, whether it be music or painting or butter sculpting(you never know), and then saying, “Here! Look at what I made!” My butter sculptor is my photography. I’ve been surprised time and time again at how supportive of each other most people are, of how welcoming most people are, especially regarding Seattle’s music industry. After all, how do you build an industry up or build a group of people up if you’re too busy tearing each other down? We’re all entitled to our own opinions and preferences, but hopefully we can prevent regression through progression.
This is just the story of how I got into photographing music in the Seattle and Washington music scene. There are so many more stories I want to post about. It’s funny how I didn’t think of music photography at first as that important. I thought they didn’t need it, but I’m realizing now just how much they need the coverage. I may not be the most knowledgable, considering my roots are mainly photography and aspiring journalism, but their openness as well as verbal feedback has been overwhelming. I also never knew just how interconnected my Invisible World Project was to the music world, but despite my random bits of frustration from lack of stories, and me thinking how the two weren’t even related, I realized that I have stories right here. They’re still growing, still waiting to be heard. Everything is interconnected. Something told me to be patient, things will work out, and they are.
In a little over a month, I will be working with some spectacular artists like Marshall Law Band, Scarlet Parke of Parke Ave, King Youngblood formerly Gypsy Temple, and Circular Reasoning over at Occidental Park in downtown Seattle in order to pass out supplies to the homeless for the holidays. I’ve briefly talked with amazing artists like Elijah Dhavvan from Tobias the Owl who is also doing his part behind the scenes to help the homeless as well bringing others to light who want to be heard. I guess now would be an appropriate time to say that Invisible World was not only inspired by homelessness, but the stories of those around the world who seek to be heard, regardless of background, race, gender, or any parts of your identity. We all have a story. We all deserve to be heard. If you’re a musician, come tell me your story. If you’re a writer, come tell me your story. If you just want to be heard, come tell me your story. I guess I just moved here for others to be heard, and if you ask me, I will tell you my story because, truth be told, I too want to be heard as well. Thank you.