Cathryn Beeks: Cain’t Nothin’ Ever Keep Her Down

 

Cathryn Beeks

A couple of months ago, I sat down for a chat with Cathryn Beeks at the home she and her husband, Jonny, affectionately call the Eagle perched atop Starlight Mountain in Ramona. An interviewer’s dream, she answered my questions without hesitation, exuding honesty and warmth. In fact, I found that if you lend her an ear and some time, she will more than fill it up.

When she first received news of her induction into the San Diego Music Hall of Fame (which happens on November 8), Beeks wasn’t sure how to feel. While deeply honored, she found herself reflecting on all the “real” musicians she admires, questioning whether she truly belonged in their company. However, Jefferson Jay, the Hall of Fame’s founder, has no doubts about her worthiness; he shared, “Cathryn has been a selfless force on the music scene for over 20 years. If everybody could do as much for other people as Cathryn has, the world would be a much better place. It is our honor to recognize her incredible body of work.”

San Diego Music Hall of Fame line up.

Jay further elaborated, “The number one criteria is someone who gave a tremendous amount of themselves and their lives for San Diego music. Other important qualities include being a kind, considerate, and community-oriented individual. Lots of people, in all kinds of industries, do things primarily for themselves and their own benefit first, but I love recognizing people who get just as much pleasure out of doing things that benefit other people and help them fulfill their dreams. 2024 inductee Cathryn Beeks is a perfect example of this. She has great musical abilities and many noteworthy projects but has done just as much to help other people fulfill their dreams as she has her own.”

Beeks has come to understand that this award represents a recognition of her broader contributions to the entire music community—the programs she’s envisioned, the events she has brought to life, and the countless musicians she’s encouraged. I asked whether she could now see the impact of her work. With a sense of relief, she replied, “100 per cent, yeah. In fact, I’m almost like, goddamn, I deserve it!” She paused, then continued, “Only because I did go through a lot of shit. Like, well, when I first started, I would carry my PA in and out of venues seven days a week from San Marcos to Imperial Beach. And, you know, back then, maybe I got a $100 to do that, and I was doing these showcase things and whatever. And so, yeah, I feel like for all the blood, sweat, and tears and lack of financial income, I’m very appreciative of being acknowledged for doing all that.

Photo by Dan Chusid.

“And not only that, but then I did get some sort of success going. I had all these really pretty good gigs like the Listen Local Showcase at the House of Blues, and I was the host of the Homegrown Hour on KPRI for six years. Then all of that tanked, and that really almost did me in, you know. I am just such an emotional person that it kept me up at night, and I got sick over it. But you know, it was always out of my hands. I mean, they were holding the cards and were like, ‘Okay. Thanks for all that you’ve done for us the last six years, but see you.’ You know, it’s not like the programs were declining or anything. They were in their glory when they were taken away from me and that’s what really hurt.

“I’ve kind of let that narrative go of being bitter about it, but it’s still in my DNA that I got fucked over really hard by a bunch of different situations throughout my musical career. Maybe it was because I was a woman, maybe it was because I was a little too emotional and not as business savvy—more just, you know, leading with my heart and instincts.”

There were moments when she felt like giving up entirely, and for a time, she did step away. That’s why this recognition holds so much meaning for her—it feels like redemption after everything she’s been through. But most important, it says that her peers truly appreciate her. Perhaps now, the slate has been wiped clean.

Little Cathryn, 1975, taking her first solo.

Unassuming and laid-back in public, Cathryn Beeks calmly and confidently plays the support role for so many others, allowing them to shine and take center stage. Yet, whether she’s willing to admit it or not, there’s an undeniable aura around her that pulls you into its orbit. You want to stay there because something is always happening. You might not even be able to name it, or know what to expect, but it’s definitely happening.

Still, there are things she’s not happy about and they weigh on her. She is grateful for what she has, but it coexists with a fair amount of anxiety, which makes it difficult to gracefully accept the inevitable changes rushing at her as she gets older. Uncomfortable with the thought of her own mortality, she admits, “I don’t like this time of life. I wish I could embrace it, be at peace with it all. I liked life when I had my dad, my dog, and my things that I cherished, and life felt limitless.”

She wonders if having children might have eased some of the self-indulgent worry she carries about any legacy she hopes to leave behind. Motherhood would have meant channeling her energy, worry, and love into someone else—something to take pride in. “Maybe if I had that,” she reflects, “I wouldn’t be so weird about life and death in general. In a way, kids make you immortal.”

While it’s true that children represent a continuation of your influence, once they’re on their own, you can only hope for the best. Beeks, on the other hand, has crafted her own narrative—one that continues to grow and reflects everything she is and does. It stays with her, and she’s in full control of it.

Over the years, her motivation and sense of purpose in music have changed significantly. What began as a desire to make it big or have a hit song covered by a famous artist has shifted toward a deeper appreciation for the art of songwriting itself. Inspired by other songwriters along the way, Beeks has realized what truly drives her now is the pursuit of writing better songs. She would gladly trade public recognition for the genuine satisfaction of hearing another songwriter say, “That’s a good song.” For Beeks, the joy of writing and creating music affects her as profoundly as if each song were her offspring, and they become a living and lasting part of her evolving legacy. They are her bloodline.

Cathryn’s first band, JunkQueen, in 1998.

That bloodline is rich with diverse and varied talents, and it’s what helps her always get back up.

While she continues to play solo, she would prefer performing with a band—without the burden of an instrument. She often feels that her skills on the guitar and ukulele aren’t where they need to be, which she finds distracting. She considers herself a much better singer when not encumbered by an instrument. She says, “I used to wail where I don’t anymore because I’m just trying to keep the rhythm on my ukulele.”

Despite the uncertainties Beeks has with instruments, there’s no denying the appeal of her voice. It flows out of her seemingly effortlessly—smooth, yet with a slight cat tongue rasp that stands up the hair on my arms in response. Without acrobatics or flair, she sings in accessible keys and familiar-sounding melodies that feel like home. She earnestly shares her own songs with a subtle show of emotion and sings backing vocals for other artists, providing innovative and spot-on harmonies. Truth be told, I’m in the final days of finishing my upcoming album Between Things Not Remembered, for which she sang background vocals, and I couldn’t be happier; her voice was the perfect complement to my own, her blend beautifully seamless.

Calamity, really fun band, w Jules Stewart, Beeks, Nisha Catron, Marcia Claire, Patric Petrie.

Even still, she misses the communal aspect of performing with a band—the creative camaraderie that comes with it. In her band, The Ordeal, where she was the front woman, she sang with passion and played a simple shaker egg. Together for seventeen years, they practiced once a week without fail. This consistency fostered a deep understanding among them; they truly knew each other, what to expect, and that they could always count on one another. Beeks valued every moment of that experience, finding comfort in the familiarity and joy of performing together.

With The Ordeal, she reflects, “We were amazing, and Matt [Sylvia] was amazing, and everyone in the band was amazing. The harmonies, oh, the harmonies. There was this energy; we were such a neat little family, and I felt so comfortable and lovely and wonderful, and I didn’t even have to try. I loved that, and I want that again very badly.”

There has been talk lately of possibly starting up the band again, but logistics might not be right for it just now. Life, distances, and the lack of rehearsal space make it difficult to get together regularly. “It’s not like the old days, everyone’s got kids and families to consider,” she says.

When asked if she considers herself a success, she denies it. On her own and with her own musicality, she just doesn’t see it. She explains, “I feel like I’ve made some really good music in the studio because of all the amazing musicians that are playing on my little dinky songs, and when I get on bills with Peter Bolland or, you know, Jeff Berkley, or whatever, with these really amazing players. I kind of feel like I’m obviously out of my league when I’m playing solo. But I’m trying to overcome that and just go play and enjoy it anyway. But as far as a success, no, I don’t know what that really is.”

When pressed further, she tells me, “If you’re making a living with your craft, then that’s definitely success. And to a certain point I’m able to do that hosting shows, but not with my own music, you know, not me as a solo artist going out and playing and being able to support myself. No. It’ll never be that.”

Cathryn with Sandi King. Photo by Cathryn Beeks

Even believing that, she does seem to have turned a corner of late, feeling content to accept herself. She spent years trying to get noticed, wondering why she wasn’t invited to perform at various venues or events and seeking visibility on different platforms; despite having received five San Diego Music Awards nominations, she has yet to take home a win for her own work. However, now she has shifted her perspective and no longer feels the need to impress others, and that is a burden she is happy to lay down. She takes comfort in her Patreon supporters, knowing they genuinely appreciate her talent as they contribute monthly to be part of her community. She puts effort into creating content for them, making sure it resonates because they are her most consistent audience.

Beeks remains an optimist. She doesn’t shy away from change; instead, she embraces it and the new adventures it brings. She dreams in big, broad Technicolor strokes of genius. Since 2009, one such dream she had was to live in a place where she could have parties, host music, and provide artistic and creative events. She built a whole website for her ideal vision of a property and named it Wish Rock Ranch. She posted photos she found on the internet of what she wanted and what it should look like.

From time to time, there were glimpses of it becoming a reality, such as in 2017 when they lived onsite as caretakers of the 1883 Schoolhouse Museum for the Encinitas Historical Society. There, they lived in an RV with two dogs and two cats behind a giant billboard. They put a lot of energy into it, but it began to be a drain on Jonny’s own career. Later, moving to her parents’ property in Lucerne Valley brought her closer to that dream, as they spent time building a campground, a putt-putt golf course, outdoor restroom facilities, and trails, all under a big, beautiful sky in the middle of nowhere.

During this time, she held a multitude of events: Chick Camp, the Songwriter Sleepover, and Hart Acres Retreats. I attended one and thoroughly enjoyed myself. I still have my art project, the promo photo Beeks took of me that I currently use, and the memories, and even the song I wrote while lying in my tent, unable to sleep because of all the music in my head.

Ultimately, as lovely as it was, that location proved difficult—too hot, too cold, too windy, and too far away. And now, having moved back to San Diego County, she can finally accept it as a dream realized.

Poised to rise up once again, Beeks allows a new dream to light up and take shape. Her latest aspiration is to be able to stay put for a while, to have a bit of longevity in one place. Both she and Jonny adore their current home in Ramona, and their landlords are great. She hopes they can continue living there, support themselves, and add music to the mix. For now, the stability is refreshing, but she doesn’t rest.

Another polished facet of the diamond that is Cathryn Beeks is her ability to reimagine herself and her role to better serve the music community. She embodies the woo-woo phrase, “If it’s to be, it’s up to me.”

After seeing a stop motion video that Marie Haddad had done in 2011 and being intrigued with the process, Jonny showed her how it was done and bought her a Canon camera. That started her on a whole new path for creativity. Not only was she making videos, but she also began taking photos of herself, as she has never been satisfied with the ones taken by photographer friends, even to this day.

Chick Camp 2022

She explains, “I love all of my photographer friends, but photographers like to get you in that ugly moment on stage where you’re singing, and your mouth is all weird, and your eyes are weird. They think that’s a great action shot and that it captures you, but I just loathe those photos. Oftentimes, I would ask them to take them down from social media, and I felt bad, but I was like, ‘That is gross. I got sweat all over.’”

So she got herself a remote shutter release, set up some lighting, and started being her own photographer. Then she began taking photos of her friends and that took off. It’s as if she plants a seed within herself, which then grows outward like a vine and draws others to her.

She made her first music video, learning the art of syncing music with action, and fell in love with the editing process, continuing to do it ever since.

Recalling a recent project, she says, “I did a photo shoot yesterday with my friend Margaret McClure and her music partner, Liz, and we just did it here. We drove into Ramona and took a couple shots on the side of Smoking Cannon Brewery. I love that tin wall they have there. And then came back here and shot at sunset. They left, and I was up until 1am editing; I just couldn’t go to bed. I just love it.”

Evolving with videography led her to film cooking shows featuring different people making their own recipes. Eventually, she filmed her best friend’s father as he made his famous ravioli. He was a man in his seventies, reminiscing about how his Italian grandmother had taught him to make it, and there were kids in the video, too.

She realized what a treasure it was—a true legacy video, or heirloom video, as she calls them—that can be passed down from generation to generation. Since the passing of her father, she reflects, “I have so many videos of my dad, and I’m so glad. I just filmed him all the time because he didn’t mind. My mom will not let me film her to save my life, but Dad loved it. So when I’m missing him, I just pop in one of his videos.”

She encourages others, saying, “Man, get your people on video that you love. Just hearing their laugh, hearing their voice, seeing their smile is invaluable. Especially if they’re teaching something—gardening, cooking, or whatever—because you can pass that down. We’re thrilled if we have a picture of our great-grandfather in a little black and white that’s faded and blurry, but to have an actual video of that person’s life, to hear their voice, I think that’s really special.”

Cathryn in Jeff Berkley & the Banned.

To help others capture these moments, she tries to talk people into filming their loved ones around Christmas as gifts. “And, you know, I’ll come and film their grandmother in their kitchen,” she says.

Switching gears, I asked her how she thinks things have changed since she arrived in 1999. At that time, there were some open mics, such as Java Joe’s, and while it was popular, “you couldn’t just sign up,” Beeks recalls. “It was a lottery, and you almost had to be invited. It was pretty exclusionary. And Dave Howard was running something at Humphreys, but you had to be a published songwriter to get in on it.” She reflects, “You had to be kind of exclusive for it to be cool or for it to be good. That was kind of the general protocol back then.” The scene was “still very cliquey and, to a certain point, it probably still is.”

Determined to make her own mark in spite of the challenges, she explains, “I couldn’t find anywhere for us to play, and I was, you know, getting kind of Heismaned at some places and stuff. And so it’s like, well, I’ll start my own thing then. And I’ll let anyone play. You know?”

One open mic host from back then, Hot Rod Harris, liked what she was doing, so he gave her $500 to start her first website. She built it and began signing people up online, and “that’s how Listen Local was born.”

Beeks knows it depends a lot on the host. “Jefferson Jay is a really great host in that he’s so welcoming to new artists, and Jeff Ousley, you know Tim Piles is just a wonderful representative of local music because he’s welcoming and open, and he’ll listen to you, he’ll listen to your music. Bart Mendoza is also really good about doing that. Lindsay White and Lauren Leigh Martin are amazing and perfect stewards of the Songwriter Sanctuary and Writer’s Round series that Ben and Karyn started. And you, Sandé, with your Marston Museum and Community Garden events. Our songwriting community is so lucky to have you all. These hosts and promoters are a lot more welcoming than the ones that were doing it when I first got in the scene, and that makes a huge difference.

Changing her tone and lowering her voice, she says, “You know, we’re lucky in that, because then there are other ones, which I won’t name, that aren’t.”

Reflecting on the evolution of the music scene, she notes, “I think that changed a lot because of the Internet and people being able to, you know, share their music in ways other than having to impress some promoter to be let on a show.” Smiling, she says, “I’m happy with the way things have progressed over the years.”

Photo by Dennis Andersen.

With progress comes the awareness that there is still much to be done. I asked her what she’d like to change in the industry. Coming from someone who has made music and art her livelihood, however meager, for more than 20 years, in one innovative and creative way or another, without batting an eye, she said, “I’d like artists to get paid better. Paid. How about a little bit of money, honey?” Well, there it is. How do we make a living with our “little hobby”? As supportive as her mom is, and mine, for that matter, we have all heard it, the often repeated, “You know, you really should have a real job, too.” That kills me. I mean, literally.

This is heated and personal; all of us creatives can relate to the travesty. The cost of living continues to rise, and no one’s pay ever keeps up; it doesn’t make any sense. But how can we structure it so that everyone wins? How can it be that bigwigs in the industry ride our backs to the bank more often than we go ourselves? Beeks adds, “Everything is going up. Obviously, gas, groceries, the world is getting more expensive, and it’s not Biden’s fault. So, fuck everybody. The only thing that hasn’t increased is the artist’s pay. And then if you have to bring your own PA, you don’t get paid extra for having to do that.”

She continues, “There should be a general scale that we all acknowledge and respect, but there just isn’t, and for different reasons. I know some people just want to play, so they’ll play for free. I get that, but then the venues get used to it. To tell you the truth, my shows—all the Listen Local shows—were audition showcases. The musicians weren’t paid because I was only getting $100 to put it all together and bring my PA and all that. But the point was to provide an opportunity for the musicians to impress the venue so they could get their own gig.”

Beeks has always been looking for that better way to make it work. She concedes, “It’s not the venue’s fault in a lot of cases—they’re not making enough money to pay the artist. It’s just that age-old problem that I wish we could figure out.” Having also seen venues experiment with different approaches, she says, “I worked for a couple different venues that would raise their drink prices during entertainment, which didn’t feel like a cover charge for the guests or patrons. But it did generate some kind of revenue that could then be passed down to the musicians.”

Photo by Carole Beeks.

I say, “It’s almost like we’re supposed to just get over it.”

She replies, “Yeah, but, you know, everything’s more expensive, so music should be too. If you want live entertainment, you’ve got to budget for it.”

Through all the moves, the big ideas, the experiments, the changes, the hurts, and the joys runs the steady and powerful support of dear friends and especially Jonny. “My husband is incredibly amazing and supportive of really anything I ever wanna try. He really is. I mean, from moving across the country to building campgrounds and whatever I want, he’s always there to make it happen,” Beeks shares. And of her friends, she says, “If I’m having doubts or whatever, they’re really great.

“Even though my mom is super supportive, at the same time, you know, there’s always that little bit of being not quite a 100% on board with my life choices. So but, thankfully, my husband takes up the slack for that.”

Cathryn with her dad at Hart Acres.

Having lost her father in 2019 on the night of a full moon, Beeks holds a full moon jam every month in his honor. He nudged her gently throughout her life. Reverently, she says,” My dad was always, like, ‘Shoot for the stars. Do whatever you want. Don’t fall into society norms. Just, you know, you can do anything you want.’ He always hammered that into me. And so that’s where I got it, where I was like, well, then I could probably do this. You know? He was definitely always so super proud of anything I did. And, yeah, I miss that support for sure.” These lines, said lovingly and often, capture everything he wished for her: “For you: the moon, the sea, the world, the sky.”

I see now that wherever she walks, she builds a community around her—a cocoon of love that holds her in warmth and well-being. She has grown so many pairs of wings over the years, it’s hard to count them, but she soars sure enough and the view is expansive and spectacular.

Event Details
The sixth annual San Diego Music Hall Of Fame Induction Ceremony takes place on November 8, from 6 to 10pm at VISION: A Center for Spiritual Living. For more information and tickets, go to: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/san-diego-music-hall-of-fame-6th-annual-induction-ceremony-tickets-951270374297