In the spring, before it gets too humid and buggy, I like to work on my patio. When the oppressive heat of Georgia summer arrives, I retreat to my studio to await the blessed fall. The only two things in summer I care about are tomato sandwiches and air conditioning.
After pitching songs in Nashville for twelve years and having no real success, I made the decision to give myself a record deal. I began work on my debut Americana album in November 2019. A few weeks later, I was in Nashville recording banjo and fiddle tracks when the first case of Covid in the United States was reported. I am loath to talk about it, as if I was the only artist impacted by the pandemic, except to say that it cost me my tour support and my marketing budget. It tore the wheels off my carefully constructed wagon.
Releasing a record with no label support, no management and relatively little money has been simply the hardest thing I’ve ever done. After Covid, all of the meetings with industry professionals, all of my efforts to assemble some kind of team, brought me to the same conclusion: Until the album gets some traction, no one —no booking agent, no promoter, no talent buyer, no publicist, no program director, no manager, no label services company —is going to take an interest. Fair enough. At this stage, everything depends on me and the day-to day business of promotion, content management and endless administrative tasks finds me in front of my laptop more than behind my guitar.
At home in Atlanta, next to our patio is a little garden that features hollyhocks, an assortment of lilies, a free-for-all outgrowth of mint and, in May, a couple of tomato plants. The garden’s dominant feature is an imposing rosebush that, once a year, produces a spectacular display of hundreds of beautiful pink roses. The rest of the year it is an enormous, hideous mass of thorns. Every year, a pair of cardinals builds a nest within those protective thorns. It is their home every spring. I call them Mr. and Mrs. C. The C’s are used to seeing me on the patio. They will sometimes land on the railing near me and we exchange a neighborly look of mutual affirmation.
One afternoon I stepped through the sliding glass door onto the patio and I immediately knew something was wrong. There was a disturbance in the direction of the giant rosebush. The cardinals were screeching at the top of their tiny lungs.
There was a snake in the garden. A fairly large king snake was coiled under the rosebush, intent on making a meal of the chicks. And there, beneath the rosebush, I witnessed something amazing.
The two cardinals were on the ground hopping frantically around the monster, easily within its striking distance. They flapped their tiny wings furiously and cried “Peep Peep Peep” in their most menacing voices. While somewhat offended by the display, the villain seemed largely unimpressed.
I got a tall bucket and a pair of work gloves from the garage and with some difficulty managed to capture the snake, who did not want to be captured. I carried it to the far end on our property and released it in the tall grass on the other side of our creek.
I like to think the cardinals understood and appreciated what I did for them. I like to imagine that the chicks grew up strong and healthy and became very successful in their chosen endeavors.
In time, I reflected on the spectacular drama that had played out before me. Those brave little birds were profoundly inspiring, doing all they could with the limited resources they had. How incredibly valiant they were and, at the same time, achingly pitiful in the face of overwhelming odds.
And then something wonderful happened. Quite unexpectedly, someone happened to observe their efforts, someone who was in a position to help them, and that person was moved by what they saw enough to want to aid them in their cause… and that made all the difference.
I carry that with me for the days when the struggle weighs me down and the despair of overwhelming odds threatens to consume me. I will continue to promote my music to the absolute best of my ability and I will play my songs for whoever will listen.
… And, at some point, something wonderful will happen.
The debut release Whatever and Ever by Jim Evans is available on all popular digital streaming platforms, and jimevansmusic.com.
