Throughout the course of 2015 I recorded live-in-studio videos of 12 tunes written by great American songwriters. I chose American songwriters because otherwise I would have had to do 8 Lennon/ McCartney tunes and it would have seemed unfair. I may just do a Beatles project at a later date. We did songs from different eras and genres and tried to keep it as diverse as possible.

I’ve talked a lot about this project but I’ve never had the avenue to tell the following story: Ray LaMontagne’s Jolene and Cary Ann Hearst’s The Hardest Thing were right in my wheelhouse but Duke Ellington’s I Didn’t Know About You and Stevie Wonder’s Evil really stretched my abilities, and confidence. The most challenging song though, was Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car. First of all, it was probably the biggest “hit” of any of the tunes I covered so anyone over the age of 30 has heard it a thousand times. Secondly, she has a singular and wonderful voice so any attempt at her biggest song would have to try to get out from under that comparison. Thirdly, and most importantly, it is written so perfectly and from a female perspective that a male covering it could seem awkward or insensitive. I made a conscious decision to not change any of the gender specific lyrics. This may have struck some as awkward but it seemed to me like the most respectful way to treat the song. I felt the lyrics were so virtuosic that the way to approach them was to honor them, to state them as they are. I feel the story that Tracy Chapman told with that song was so well done that changing the gender of the storyteller was inherently misguided. Additionally, I think it’s reasonable for a man to feel comfortable enough in himself to tell a story from a woman’s perspective.

In October, I did a private show with John Legend in NYC. It was a pretty straight forward and short set. I was happy to take the stage behind John, who is a genuinely excellent singer and performer and with a band that is comprised of talented people whom I respect.

Sometime during the second song, I looked out into the crowd and realized that super producer/guitar legend Nile Rodgers was in the front row. I’m glad no one gave me a heads up on this because by the time I discovered it there was no time to freak out (ha!), there was only time to give 100%.

Playing in front of someone like that has an interesting effect of me. I tend to experience it as though I’m under a microscope and every inflection, every nuance and, Lord help me, every mistake is highlighted. It’s kind of a beautiful place. It’s also, let me be frank, a little scary.

The show went well and as soon as I could, I walked into the crowd and found Nile who was gracious and complimentary. I told him that earlier that week I had been showing college students his tune Le Freak and how big of an influence he has been for me and how great his playing is and how…. Like I said, he was gracious.

Afterwards, the bassist, Kaveh Rastegar, and I were standing by the only plausible exit. I figured, why go to the dressing room and eat cold catering when I could bother Nile Rodgers more? He came down this long and wide hallway and while his wife retrieved their coats he gravitated naturally toward us, the only musicians around, and started to talk about the show. I asked a few great questions, I was like freakin Terry Gross for 3 minutes, but the real take away was how there is a sort of fraternity, a community of musicians that extends from the largest of legends to the sideman to the beginner. It’s inspiring to be a part of that.