Three Tries & The Truth: Issue #1
Shake baby shake + the objects that remind us who we really are
Jody here, and welcome to the inaugural issue of Three Tries & The Truth—a monthly roundup where we celebrate what’s working, laugh at what’s not, and expand the circle of songwriting and country music.
Mary Gauthier says, "The job of the artist is to go to the places where most other people are embarrassed to go to and show it."
That's the work. that's the dare. I'll go first.
Three Tries
A Hit 🎯
I had just finished playing the first song I ever wrote in front of one of my heroes. I physically shook for the entire 3 minutes, my fingers struggling to stay on the guitar. The first thing Mary Gauthier said was, “Wow, you sing so strong… you must have a powerhouse voice when it’s not shaky.”
She’ll never know how many times I’ve listened to this clip, reminding myself: I do have a strong voice. A powerhouse voice, even.
Rewind: My earliest memory is of losing a beloved toy frog at our upright piano in the unfinished basement of our split-level home. I was three. What’s stuck with me isn’t the moment itself, but the feeling—frantic, devastated that it was gone forever. Our first memories aren’t always accurate, but they do often shape our sense of self.
Years later, I learned that in many Western Native American cultures, frogs represent the power of voice, sexuality, and transformation. Full stop. For years, I have struggled in these spaces, silenced by dark voices that threatened my life if I made a sound. My throat closes up, and I can barely speak. I imagine people I work with would have a hard time believing this given my comfort presenting during meetings—but it’s true.
Two years ago, after starting singing lessons—part therapy, part reclamation—I stopped at the Five and Dime. Seriously, they still exist. At the checkout counter, sitting there like it had been waiting for me, was a tiny green frog with an LED light and incessant, ridiculously loud ribbit. Found.
This little guy travels with me to every songwriting retreat. He sits on my desk, watching over my work. I have found my light. I have found my voice.
My powerhouse voice.
A Miss ❤️🩹
I envisioned this section being “tries I could laugh at” but when I watch these two videos of myself from Saturday singing for the first time ever into a microphone with an audience (of, ahem, six people), my heart feels big and I am overwhelmed with self-compassion. I am often physically hijacked singing in front of other people—even if it’s my family, especially if it’s my family. My whole body shakes violently, I can barely play the guitar, I sing out of tune, my voice shakes, and I get tunnel vision.
And yet, as I watch these, I am so proud of myself for doing it anyway. It took me three tries to get through this song, here are the first two attempts. I can barely sing this song without crying it means so much to me and I had written it the hour before this video. I look forward to sharing it with you soon.
Just yesterday, I came across this video of 24yo Tracy Chapman singing “Fast Car” in 1988 at Wembley Stadium on Nelson Mandela’s 70th birthday. Stevie Wonder was the planned act, but when he couldn’t perform, Tracy was asked to fill in. Listen carefully, you can hear her voice shake.
And then the magic happens… this stadium of 72,000 people get quiet and listen. I feel so inspired watching this—by her “yes”, her voice, her being, by this extraordinary song.
Songs are strong, they don’t just dissolve if one lyric isn’t heard perfectly or if a note shakes. She knew this.
And… fun fact. Tracy Chapman is one of the main heroes of Joy Oladokun, whom we get to see this weekend at the Fillmore. I can’t wait.
A Matters 🎶
This song has been on repeat for me for the last three months and each time I find a new way to harmonize with these three. I first heard about Gabe Lee while in Nashville last December for an NSAI retreat with the one and only Liz Rose. And then I came across this song and Rylie Bourne’s vocals about melted me.
Meet Gabe: A first-generation Asian-American in country music, Gabe is known for his raw, poetic storytelling. His music leans info vivid narratives and his voice is rich and weighted. I love the freshness of how unpolished and un-overproduced his sound is. It feels organic and timeless. If you loved John Prine, give Gabe a listen.
Meet Rylie: Her voice is warm and delivered with a clarity that feels soothing and classic. Her songwriting is storytelling in the tradition of the country greats, but she brings this modern introspection that feels deeply personal, yet completely relatable. I could sing with her all day. Make sure to check out her recent release “Simpleton” I love this song. 🫠
and…
The Truth
Do you have an object that reminds you of who you really are? Tell me about it. I’ll go first and share another one with you in the comments—can’t wait to hear yours.
Looking Ahead
I have an ambitious goal to write 100 songs this year. I wrote four this weekend. Next month I’ll share thoughts on time and how I chase after what matters even when I’m tired and overwhelmed.
Can’t wait? I post new hits, misses, and things that matter every week—drop by anytime!
In addition to my frog friend, I keep a pine cone on my desk in front of my monitor to remind me where I came from and that "little seeds grow big trees." You'll notice pine trees all over the songs I write. 🧡
Recently, every time I see a selfie of me and my wife travelling, it reminds me of who I am. Someone who always wants to explore and learn. Keeps me motivated to not get comfortable, don't rinse and repeat, whether by circumstance or choice!