Perhaps you were there last week when Jon Tierney and his acoustic cabal
celebrated the release of their first CD, In the Days When We Were Kids.
Perhaps you know the Big Guy and have witnessed firsthand his rapid rise to a
place of significance on the local scene. If you haven't, let's take a moment
to meet him and his band, the Truth.
"My ultimate goal as a performer would be to have a career like Marc Cohn,"
says Tierney. "Among songwriters and people who love music he is tremendously
respected, but he can walk down the street and not have a problem being
recognized. He's had a great career and he sells a lot of records. My ultimate
goal," says the full-time musician, part-time deli guy, "is to do that for the
rest of my life."
Before assembling the Truth, Tierney, 25, played solo acoustic for eight
years, just himself, his lyrical candor, and a beat-up acoustic guitar. He
roamed the coffeehouse circuit for that time with a decent degree of success.
But it took a lot of woodshedding in his bedroom -- playing and listening to
James Taylor, Bob Dylan, David Gray, Van Morrison, CSN&Y -- before taking
his show to the public. He can credit his faithful friend and current band
manager Jeff Danielian for getting him out of his bedroom and onto the stage.
"Jeff came in my house one day," Tierney remembers, "when I was playing some
stuff in my room. But instead of coming in, he just sat outside and listened to
me play for a while. When he finally did come in, he said, `Man, you've got to
let people hear these songs.' "
So Tierney mustered the courage and signed up at CAV's open mike night. "They
wouldn't let me on the list at first," he says, "but they ended up squeezing me
on for one song." He laughs, "I definitely blew the roof off, and they let me
play two more." That kind of instant acceptance catapulted Tierney out of his
Emily Dickinson-style artistry and into the public eye, giving him the
confidence he needed to commit to life as a performing songwriter.
"It takes a certain listener to hear a more acoustic artist," he says. "For
me, I like any musician better when they're by themselves -- guys like Ben
Harper, Dave Matthews." But when it came time to make the leap from the
coffeehouse into the clubs, Tierney found it easier to punch his way through
drywall with a pretzel. "On the whole, masses of people don't want to hear you
if you're up there alone. Most people need drums, bass, and a groove to get
into a live performance. They need more than words, no matter how important or
good they are." That difficulty led him about a year ago to find the Truth.
Tierney met drummer Ben McLellan at a gig at the Living Room, where he was
playing in a "Creed-ish" band. Tierney watched him play and tracked him down
after the show. "I gave him one of my solo CDs and asked him to check it out. A
few days later he called me back and said, `I'm in.' " Brad O'Brien plays
bass.
"I've been with these guys for a year now and since we got together it's been
amazing. You can never predict what will happen when you put good backing
musicians into the mix."
At first, those backing musicians made life difficult for Tierney's songs. He
had to take what were once solitary, solo acoustic numbers and find a way for
the band to arrange them together. No longer was the show just about him
connecting with a respectful audience. Now there was a different dimension, a
more complicated dynamic -- and the songs that he had strummed alone for a
handful of years became foreign to him.
"It was definitely difficult," he admits. "I described it to Ben that it's
like now my songs are a train and I'm running next to them trying to jump on
board. They're speeding down the track and I'm just a passenger." That train's
making quite a few stops these days, finding lots of comfortable
straight-aways, while also experiencing some long, slow turns. "We're moving
forward no question," he says, "but it's definitely been an emotional up and
down thing. We feel like rock stars some nights when we're playing in front of
a great audience and a packed house. Then the very next night you're doing the
same set for three people in the pouring rain. It humbles you. It has also
taught us a lesson: If you're not doing it for your music, don't do it at
all."
Unshackled by commercial constraints and unabashed in performance, In the
Days When We Were Kids demonstrates just why so many folks are starting to
jump on the Truth's fast-moving train. It's heartfelt and sincere, accessible
and accomplished. Tunes like "Nadia's Song" and the pretty spiritual "Control"
to close the album reflect all the time Tierney has spent alone with his
guitar, while the galloping opener "Posers" makes the most of the talented
McLelland and O'Brien rhythm section.
"It feels like the three of us are one person now," he says. "I'm a
self-taught player and I've always been skittish about playing with other
musicians. I always knew I could write songs, but I never had the ability to
jam on Van Halen when I was in my bedroom alone." Today, with practice and
roadwork, the three have gelled like all good bands. Their work ethic over the
past year has been one of the true keys to the band's success.
"We've been playing as many shows as we can for anybody who'll listen," says
Tierney, who credits manager Danielian with the motivation to keep moving
forward. "Jeff has amazed me. Right now he's doing this for nothing but my
friendship, because he loves me and loves my music. It's a total trust thing."
The progress is reassuring. They've played everywhere from informal outdoor
parties over the summer to Davio's in the Biltmore Hotel.
Soon, Tierney and the Truth hope to take the next step and get picked up by
a label. "At this point we'd like to start selling some albums and by the
spring we hope to have a mini-tour together, getting consecutive dates and
reasonably good bookings." They feel the miles they've logged and the shows
they've played have prepared them for the growing pains ahead. "The few gigs
we've had outside of our fanbase, we definitely make our mark," says Tierney.
"When we go into a hostile place, most people don't wanna hear us. But we do
our best and leave having made a good impression on people. That's what it's
all about: one crowd at a time."
WANDERING EYE. It's a big weekend for Holy Cow and Judith.
They will be at the Middle East tonight (the 11th) and at the Green Room
on Saturday (the 13th). Catch the assault.
On a much quieter front, country blues fingerpicker Paul Geremia
returns to the Stone Soup Coffeehouse on Saturday. Paul has been doing his
thing for more than 30 years now and, like all strains of blues music, his
country style just gets better with age. Tickets are $8.
A few months ago, I reported on a couple of "House Rent Boogie" benefits a
bunch of warm-hearted Newport musicians were having for their ailing friend
Martin Baker. Well, Martin passed away this past week at the age of 45.
He'd been diagnosed with cancer last January and the damn menace got the best
of him. In the words of fellow Newport brother, Roger Vaughan, "He was a good
and true friend and a great musician. I'm glad I met him and we'll miss him."
So will the rest of us, Roger. Rest easy, Martin.
E-mail me with music news at b_gulla@yahoo.com.
Issue Date: October 12 - 18, 2001
