Three Music Thingz with Kerrin Connolly

My my my, it's another rendition of Three Music Thingz, the blogseries where I ask musicians for three thingz that are essential to their music-making.

Today we have Kerrin Connolly! Kerrin Connolly is a singer-songwriter in Boston who just released their totally self-recorded album Transitions last week; it comprises seven finely calibrated pop rock tracks, ranging from sunny '90s rock radiocore ("Fingertrap") to twangy folk balladry ("Beige Ladies").

Transitions, by Kerrin Connolly

7 track album

Kerrin ConnollyBandcamp New & Notable Nov 3, 2023

My main takeaway from the album is how much I loved Connolly's voice throughout. Whether stacking up rich harmonies or gliding down runs, it has a clarified confidence that I found totally magnetic. In the press release, Connolly says Transitions tackles the "real fear and discomfort in life’s 'in between' stages," and though the lyrics show a singer trying their best to hold it together in the midst of that discomfort ("All the best laid plans / That couldn't meet demand are falling through," they sing on "American Psomething"), the lovely stability in Connolly's vocals suggests a clear vision that can ultimately cut through cloudy times.

Connolly was kind enough to share their three music thingz with the blog...behold...

1. Preciousness
   I think there are a couple schools of thought around getting attached to the art we make. One is that if we're too precious about our project, or the finer details within it, we won't be able to make truly good decisions about it. The other is that if we're not precious enough, we might only be making decisions that serve an end product instead of nurturing the creative process. This is something I've struggled with a lot, as someone who makes music at least in part as a livelihood, and feeling the expectation and pressure surrounding that, but also as someone who just wants to enjoy what I'm doing and treat music like the fun creative release it should be. There's definitely a balance between the two mindsets though, and it's something I have to walk myself through all the time.
   
   Probably all of my best songs are a combination of attacks, where maybe I allow myself to cling desperately to a few ideas, but practice letting go of what doesn't quite work. I guess you have to decide where to re-direct the attachment to, and keep trying until you can meet in the middle with yourself. That little lyric I thought of in the shower might be fantastic, but if it doesn't serve the message I'm trying to send in the song, we must regroup (or, y'know, save the lyric in my notes app and come back to it a few years later in a completely different song).
2. Alvin and the Chipmunks
   Was it a universal experience to record yourself singing in Windows Sound Recorder with a terrible headset mic and speed it up / chipmunk it? I think I was literally addicted to doing this as a kid, and I never actually outgrew it. To this day, it's a significant part of my mixing process to check that things are sounding ok and balanced—right up there with checking in Mono or doing a car test. The resulting quick, higher-pitched version of the song helps me to avoid ear-fatigue and can point out some issues I might have missed before. Generally, it's just a nice way to refresh the song and listen to it with a different perspective. And if for no other practical reason than I love the way it sounds, I'm probably going to keep doing it ad infinitum.
3. Little Me
   Music was never as important to me as it was when I was a young teenager. I remember feeling songs so deeply in my bones and I'd just leave everything out on the floor at shows. I was also very troubled at that time and I craved validation from older folks in general, but specifically with my music. Now I'm 30 and I've begrudgingly lost a lot of that zest, so I've realized that the one I actually need the approval from is my younger self, and by extension young listeners who live and breathe the music like I did. When I finish a song and just know that little me would have absolutely loved it, or be amazed with what they'd one day be capable of—that's the stuff. That's how I know I'm doing it right. It goes without saying that consulting your younger self has benefits elsewhere in life, and it's only ever taught me how to be better, more forgiving, and more excited about my work. Every little thing we make is macaroni art that deserves hanging on the fridge.

Thanks Kerrin! Listen to Transitions and check out their link aggregation.

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