By Kathy Sands-Boehmer
Greg Greenway (Photo by Jake Jacobson)
Greg Greenway (born in Richmond, Virginia) is an American folk singer/songwriter. Currently living in the Boston area, he is part of the folk scene there. His humorous song “Massachusetts” was included on the “Car Talk” radio program.
Huh? That’s all they had to say about this wonderful songwriter — that he wrote a song that Click and Clack played on “Car Talk?” Greg Greenway is a positive force of change in this world. His powerful and inspirational lyrics shout out his humanity and soulfulness. It’s impossible not to stop everything you’re doing and listen to him. For a few little snippets of Greg Greenway’s music, check this out: http://www.cdfreedom.com/artists/greggreenway/catalog/weightless.
One of the things that I admire about your music is that it is so eclectic — it’s bluesy, it’s jazzy, it’s gospel-like. In fact, I’d like to hear “What Must Be Done” in a church service. I can hear a choir singing it. Has anyone ever done arrangements of your songs and presented them in a similar manner?
You are right on in regard to “What Must Be Done.” It was written for a lay service on Martin Luther King’s birthday that I was asked to do at a Unitarian Universalist church. I’m sure I was asked because of “In the Name of Love” ( a song about going to the Civil Rights Museum in Memphis that borrows from U2’s “Pride/In the Name of Love”). I don’t belong to a church, so it really took me by surprise. But, in visualizing how I might do it, I heard a choir. So I asked, and they were up for it. I wrote the song in one afternoon (unusual for me) with that particular event in mind. I had no idea that it would resonate with people like it has. In fact, I’ll be in Kansas City the weekend before the Me and Thee because the song is a finalist in a national contest of positive songs. So it was brought into this world by a choir. It’s been done without me by two choirs that I know of.
As far as being eclectic — Thank You for noticing. I certainly didn’t start out that way. I was a very limited, self-conscious Folkie when I first came to Boston. But, eclectic is what you become when your first idea isn’t one whose time has come. The scene had died, one more guy with an acoustic guitar was not what anyone was looking for. So, if you’ve signed up for life, you find a way. I was lucky to be surrounded by musicians of all kinds. I lived on the Fenway in the middle of the music student triangle — Berklee, New England Conservatory, and the Boston Conservatory. My friends played every possible form of music. I was exposed to absolutely everything and I realized that you need every possible form to express what you want to express. Like a writer’s vocabulary, everything you can absorb makes everything you already possess richer and deeper. I chuckle sometimes when I touch on something Jazzy, I can see my first bass player just shaking his head. It was a sacred temple to him, holy ground. I can remember my first drummer saying that he really liked the rhythm of the first song, but it got a little old on the second, and now on the fifth, it’s really old. It was my favorite strum pattern, I wasn’t even aware of what I was doing. They say that failure is the best teacher. So I’ve learned to jump off of a few cliffs.
You’ve become quite well known for participating in a number of Phil Och’s tribute shows. What is it about the music of Phil Ochs that speaks to you?
To be accurate, it was the culture of the Phil Ochs shows that first got me; I had to find my way into his music. I have to give you a bit of history here. I was tremendously influenced by my older brother who experienced the 60’s as directly as one could in Richmond, VA. When he left for his sophomore year of college, he left two records on the turntable: Richie Havens’ Mixed Bag, and Eric Andersen’s ‘Bout Changes ‘N Things. From those two records came a new world for me. The house emptied out and they filled the void my brother had left. But, they were also a voice I’d have never heard where I grew up. (This was an imprinting moment for what music can do in the world). When you are the youngest of three boys, (one of which left a very wide wake) fairness and being pre-judged can be a big issue. So, the lyrics that went into my head alongside the likes of John Howard Griffin’s Black Like Me were a panacea for someone entering his first integrated school. The first song I ever fingerpicked was Andersen’s “Thirsty Boots” and I didn’t even realize that it was about the Freedom marchers — I had no idea who they were.
By the time whatever road led me to Sonny Ochs, I’d never heard Phil. (At the first show, I realized that I’d heard “Changes,” but not done by Phil.) But, after a few years in the Boston Rock scene, I really responded to the Phil Ochs Nights’ connection to that early time of becoming socially aware — and these were more my people. (Kim and Reggie Harris were two of those, and we’ve been great friends and compatriots ever since.) The more I heard and the more I was able to choose which songs I got to perform, the more respect I developed for Phil. I worked my way up to “The Crucifixion” and I still marvel at what Phil wrote and how absolutely universal it is. The phrase “merchants of the masses almost have to be begged,” is beautiful. “When I’m Gone” is a masterpiece.
Ultimately, it comes down to hope. I love being around these people. Imagine that on my first Phil tour to the midwest, Reggie, Pat Humphries, and I (three completely different world experiences) had a political discussion that crossed three states. And, I could never leave out the influence of Sonny. I have grown to so love her for how she has managed to keep everyone together through all of the stages and manifestations of the Phil nights. It’s taught me so much about appreciating others, finding your place in the big constellation. This gives me hope.
To me, your name is synonymous with socially conscious songs. Your music and lyrics often deliver hard-hitting information, yet it’s softened and made palatable to even the most casual music listener. Have you had any interesting encounters with people in your audience who were either totally inspired to go change the world or have been outraged by some of your viewpoints?
As a writer and someone who tries to understand his own life and its relationship to the universal, you can’t ignore the larger canvas onto which you were painted. Growing up where I grew up, and when, had a lot to do with that. I had no choice. When your beliefs are at odds with a good portion of the culture that defined you, you’re in a very complex world. My clearest answer was always in seeing the humanity in all sides. That’s whatI write. Basically it comes down to the fact that I’m a bridge builder, not a divider. I’m always trying to include both sides. To me, I write about life. Each of my CDs contain songs about love, death, and truth. When you are able to establish a common truth with your audience, they may then trust to take the next step with you. That step might bring them to see something differently.
I’ve had all kinds of responses to songs like “In the Name of Love” — all positive. I doubt that anyone who would have been outraged by what I have to say would have come in the first place. The most memorable response was in Chicago when I saw people in the audience crying. I talked to them after the show and they told me that they had worked with Dr. King and they’d thought that the world had forgotten. I can’t tell you how that made me feel.
Your biography relates the story of how you wrote your first songs after being witness to some injustices experienced by some black athletes you played with in high school. Can you tell us more about how those incidents drove you to relating them through music? Had you ever attempted to write any songs prior to this?
The bio that you read got that completely wrong. I WAS in the middle of a race riot in high school as a fifteen year old basketball player. It was caused by an incident between my white coach and a black player (the first one in our school’s history) who had been thrown off of our team. It wasn’t a clear cut case of anything but total stupidity. No one was right. No one covered themselves with glory. I just remember standing in the middle of a swirl of anger wanting to be on neither side. Such was the atmosphere of the time. It was the first year that all the schools of the city, black and white, played against each other. All of that anger went nowhere, created nothing but more anger.
Here’s a variation of the desert island question— yes, I’d be curious as to what music you’d want with you, but what reading material would you need for spiritual and emotional nourishment?
In this new age of constructing your own cds, the question has become somewhat easier. When I’m in a period of conceptualizing my next cd, I make a compilation of the types of sounds and songs I’d like to come through the filter of what I do. So, musically I’d want to have Chick Corea’s “Spain” (acoustic trio version). I’m learning it with the idea that in my numerous shortfalls there will be the stuff of songs. Six months later I’m still on the first 55 seconds and within 10 beats per minute on the metronome. I’d also have Sweet Honey in the Rock’s version of “Deportees.” Bernice Reagon is a force of nature. I’d have Eva Cassidy’s Live at Blues Alley, probably one of my most listened to cds. Sting should just hand “Fields of Gold” over. Lyle Lovett’s Joshua Judges Ruth. All Kurt Elling, but must have “Sing a Song of Sad Young Men.” Bruce Hornsby and Don Henley’s “End of the Innocence.” Susan Werner’s “Heaven So Small.” Rolly Brown’s “This Vagrant Heart.” I just met him at SAMW and loved his playing. And finally, I’d want to bring Reggie Harris and Tom Prasada-Rao to hang out with and sing until… (I know humans aren’t in your question, but I’m cheating for love.)
Literature: It will take a desert island to finish Taylor Branch’s trilogy on America during the King years (the literary equivalent of “Spain”). I must have my Little Treasury of Modern Poetry. Again, since it’s an island, I’d have Godel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid. My favorite physicist vows it explains existence. (Whenever I get big headed, I try to read the first page). It will probably end up like the pig head in Lord of the Flies. The Complete E.E. Cummings, The Complete Mark Twain, and most importantly, The Complete Wallace Stevens.
While I’m marooned I might as well have the Koran and the Bible to figure out what so many crazy people are doing to religion.
Like many of us, Kathy Sands-Boehmer wears many hats. An editor by profession, she also operates Harbortown Music and books artists for the Me and Thee Coffeehouse in Marblehead, Massachusetts. In her spare time, Kathy can be found at local music haunts all over New England. This and many previous Q & A interviews with artists are archived at www.meandthee.org/blog. Future ones also will be archived here on AcousticMusicScene.com.
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