A Conversation with Will Stucky

Songwriter Sanctuary is off this month (we’ll be back for the FIRST Friday of December, as our outlier holiday show happens early due to the festive but clusterfuckery final weeks of the year). Scroll down for lineup and RSVP info! But wait, before you do:

Will Stucky. Photo by Sydney Valiente.

In lieu of SS promotion or spewing my own brain vomit at you, I decided to dedicate this month’s column to a little shop talk with my friend and fellow musician Will Stucky, who just released his new album Familiar Frontier. If all things went according to plan last Saturday (after my column deadline), we had a fab time celebrating at his release party. If you missed it, you’re probably feeling some guilt and shame. Sorry about it.

I had the distinct honor of previewing the album early. What can I say, sometimes being a distinguished (I know that’s a stretch, I’m just trying it on to see how it feels) member of the media has its perks—hair flip. It was a true listening session, with liner notes, lyrics, and chord charts accessible through Stucky’s carefully curated website. I felt like a tween again, scouring every inch of the Jagged Little Pill album jacket while it played through my Discman. Only this time the role of jacket and Discman were both played by my laptop, and I had the added luxury of being able to text the artist a complimentary “Jesus Christ” every few minutes. What can I say, sometimes being a distinguished (I know that’s a stretch, I’m just trying it on to see how it feels) member of San Diego music community has its perks – hair flip to the other side. Alright, let’s get into it. Songwriters, take notes, there’s some gold in here.

Lindsay White: You’ve been studying, writing, and performing music for many years, but I’m sensing some big growth with this project. What’s changed the most about your songwriting since you started? What hasn’t changed at all?

Will Stucky: When I was first getting into songwriting, I spent a lot of energy trying to bake up unnecessarily complicated compositions. The more I write, the more I pay attention to other people’s songs and how they hold my attention like a good magic trick—be that through the sleight of hand in setting up wordplay or the grand illusions of recording production. Where I used to try and force some big statement in the lyrics or chord progression, I now spend more time allowing the words and music evolve wherever they want to go. Where I used to simply copy another artist’s tricks, I now make deliberate nods toward my influences.

LW: In Familiar Frontier, there’s a beautiful balance between delicate emotions and moments where bigger simmering feelings nearly boil over. Does songwriting give you permission to truth-tell in a way everyday communication doesn’t? Are you playing with restraint vs. impulse consciously as a tool in your songwriting arsenal or is it more of an organic/cathartic flow?

WS: I think there’s a parallel between processing emotions and hashing out lyrics. Start simple, develop/evolve, resolve. In song form, that gets to stop anywhere and soak for a moment. “When you said X, I heard Y, and it hurt my feelings, so now I want to hurt yours…” Music forces you into the present moment (beat), so leaning on that restriction for dramatic effect is fun to me. The song gets to choose where we pause and stir and maybe hear how absurd things can get when we don’t process completely.

LW: I love when the production of an album serves the songwriting, and this absolutely does. Nothing stepping on your voice or lyrics, every note serving a selfless purpose. For our readers who might not be familiar with the existential crises of getting songs sounding just right in the studio, what do you think was the “secret sauce” that made this production work so well?

WS: I like to use a pendulum production approach by adding things that I expect to be dumb or cheesy so it can swing back to center. You can’t mute what you don’t record, and I’m thankful that Ben Grace was willing to take the noise parade that I handed him and tighten the mixes down to what complements the songs. We would frequently ask “does this part add or distract here?” and I’d get to kill some of my ego in the process. Huge thanks to Ben for mixing, who was excellent to work with and key to encouraging me to not only get back into songwriting when I moved to San Diego, but also to get these songs recorded and shared.

LW: A recurring theme I’m noticing in these songs is how much of the human experience revolves around the ripple effects of misunderstanding or being misunderstood. In “Those Words” you ask, “Please give me the time to translate my mind,” which, to me, is the definition of songwriting. That idea of creating space to process and express emotions makes me think of Writers Round San Diego, where you’ve become such an integral part of the songwriting community. Could you talk about your experience with Writers Round and what it means to you?

WS: WRSD is a beautifully safe space to try “new shit.” Sometimes I’ll feel my song land, sometimes it lacks, but it’s become a decent barometer for me to pinpoint what part of a song loses or gains engagement. If I zone out in the middle of my own tune while a room full of fellow songwriters are intently listening, I know where to focus and pivot. More often than just being self-critical, I leave that room feeling inspired by what everyone else is working on. I get to see folks who only recently started songwriting show up with new ideas, break past the vulnerable wall, show up a couple weeks later with another song that sounds even more like them… and then I go home and steal all of their good ideas! Muahahahahaha.

LW: As a card-carrying member of the dead parents club (worst club, best members), “Doomsday” is one of those transcendent songs that has the power to conjure the dead. I never met your dad but feel his spirit in every note of that song living right alongside your memories of loving and losing him. If this interview were a songwriting workshop, how would you explain the process of balancing the raw, personal nature of your loss with crafting a song that still resonates universally with listeners?

WS: This song started as a journaled conversation with him when I reached for my phone to text him a year after he passed. I wanted to hear a dumb joke, or ask him a plant care question, or hypothesize on some convoluted subject that neither one of us really knows much about. I wrestled a lot with how personal to make the lyrics. Do I try to make a generic dead dad song that aims to pull at club members’ heart strings? No, that’s disingenuous, and meaningless to me! What I ended up finding was that a lot of what I wanted to say happened to be simple, universal statements: “I miss talking to you” and “Still can’t believe it’s so…” Then I realized I could blend the personal and universal with “tell me [insert personal thing,” and “ask me about [insert another personal thing]” and I hoped that would translate as the sentiment of wanting an old personal conversation. I don’t expect everyone to understand why a martian would eat bread in New York, but I can trust that others who know loss will recognize a personal joke and think of their own unique relationship. Meanwhile, I can sneak in the parts that carry weight in my own heart, like remembering that he’d start nearly every conversation with “So…”

Be on the lookout for Will Stucky featured at Songwriter Sanctuary next year. Until then, go forth and give this album some love, ideally on Bandcamp Friday (which gives all the proceeds to the artists). Next Bandcamp Friday is on December 6, which brings us back to…

December Songwriter Sanctuary

When: Friday, December 6 | Doors 6:30pm, Music 7pm
Where: Normal Heights United | 4650 Mansfield Street San Diego, CA 92116
Lineup: Bobo Czarnowski, Kimmi Bitter, Helena Hollaran
RSVP/Info: tinyurl.com/songwriter-sanctuary-sd

Thanks for Talkin’ Craft with me!