Play It Like It's Music

About Play It Like It's Music

Purists may whine that the best days of music are behind us, that capital “M” music has seen its peak and is no longer relevant. But here at Play It Like It's Music we believe the opposite: not only is the act of musicmaking an essential life skill with a lineage stretching back to the beginnings of human history, but the vocation of the professional musician is more vital today than it ever has been. Once a month, join musician, songwriter and producer Trevor Exter as he drops in on working musicians from every genre. playitlikeitsmusic.substack.com (https://playitlikeitsmusic.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast)

Publisher

Trevor Exter

Category

music · music

Language

en

Explicit

No

First episode

21 Feb 2019

Latest episode

6 Sept 2023

Latest episodes

117 episodes in the feed.

1. 

   6 Sept 2023

   Not really like surfing, but sort of.

   The gig was amazing. Thank you. More coming up! See below. - Trevor Good morning. I don't mind staying in the personal realm here. The story of music is too big, anybody's own story is always too big and you can only ever try to convey a small slice of it. I can just try to convey the relevant angle, stay on topic. Point is, there is music to be made. I haven't done much surfing, and I don't consider myself a surfer. But from what I do know about surfing, the experience I have with it (again, not much. Barely any really) I don't see or imagine too many surfers spending time discussing each others' surfing. Pointing out little things to each other and stuff, what someone did "well" and what could go "better" and how to make it look better, etc. I mean, maybe they do? But it's not the point because there's the ocean to consider, a much vaster consideration. Much more compelling. The ocean is what matters. In my mind I see surfers considering the ocean to each other and struggling to find words. (Keanu Reeves voice:) The Ocean. It's big. We are too small to matter to it, but we go face it. We go into it. It kicks our ass and we keep coming back. We can't help ourselves. It forces us to overcome our weakness. To grow. To surrender. To meet it. We, I... simply do not matter in the face of it. The musicians who I relate to best speak of music like that. It's the ocean, it's the universe. We don't talk about "our" music. We don't talk about style, technique or form much at all. We'll check in with each other, like "how is it going?" How is your process going. How are you surviving? As the ocean of music imposes itself in on you, day after day, minute by minute... how are you holding up and have you learned anything useful or interesting to pass on to me, about how I might hold up better as the universe imposes itself on me, day after day? We are all in it, and that is the point. It is the Ocean, we are unimaginably small as we navigate it. So did you get out there? Did you connect? Did you fail catastrophically and have to start again from scratch, getting pushed back and under and back out again as you found a way back in? Or did you just eat s**t. "So-and-so is kicking a lot of ass right now". ??? (Define ass, define kick.) These are my experiences. I love that these are my experiences, because I don't define myself by my successes or failures. I define myself by my love of doing it and by my dedication to that love. My immersion in it. It helps me understand the world and it helps me connect in the most meaningful way to other humans. I am not myself without it. Music is what we are here for, it's what we come from and what we'll return to. For now, we play. We’re gonna check in with Ed Marshall now. Call-in style. Click play above to hear it. For those of you who don’t know Ed, here’s the episode we did together a couple of years ago: “How did the gig go, Trev?” More like How did it feel. I played my first proper show of "my own material" the other day, the first one in almost a decade. My family was there, my hometown came out. Friends I had not seen in 30 years, godparents... "How did it go?" Let's see. People were there and listened, people could watch it on facebook. How do You think it went? Does it matter? I have no idea how it went, I only know how I felt beforehand, getting ready for it. How I felt while it was happening and how I felt afterward. How I feel now. That's all I know, and I barely know that. I don't have words to describe the feeling. Words would diminish my joy and gratitude, even if they were accurate and precise, insightful ones. And I'm enveloped in joy and gratitude in a way that I cannot describe. So that's all I can say. Only one of my musician friends asked me "How did the show feel?" Bret Mosley (https://www.bretmosley.com). He just put out his new record, it took him almost a decade to make it. He's been through the fire, too. So he named his record that (https://bretmosley.bandcamp.com/album/through-the-fire). ←Go give it a listen. Thank god for my musician friends, the ones who live it. The ones who learned to surrender and who know that it's not about them, not about us, not about the material or the ideas. People will hear what we do and they will have their experience, meanwhile we got to be together in the presence of the ocean. That's all that matters. I got to get back in the Ocean, and woah. It's not just that I missed the feeling and that my spirit finally got to inhabit my body again. It's that I got to percieve just how much I'd changed since the last phase, how much I've been able to let go, so that now I can really be in it more. More than before. Hearing and feeling it more than before. I still don't have words. But nothing will make you appreciate a thing more than the absence of that thing. I was walking through the desert and I arrived at the table, set with a pitcher of water and a glass. I sat, I poured one and I drank. Something like that. Welcome to the family. Here are the next band shows coming up, come out: John Kimock and I are playing together for three dates in early October: Bloomsburg PA on October 6 Bethlehem PA on October 7 New York City on October 8 More dates on the website, including some solo performances. It’s all very special right now. As always, big love to your ears. Thanks for tuning in here, we’ll talk more next week. Trevor Thanks for reading "Play It Like It's Music" by Trevor Exter! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. . . . Do you like my stuff? Please help the audience grow by sharing this post with one friend: * FALL 2023 TOUR DATES booking currently: @trevorexter.com (http://www.trevorexter.com) * Hear my music: the “Trevor Exter Playlist” (Spotify (https://open.spotify.com/user/cellosapiens/playlist/4v1HVQY1zDu9e4bQA3Kyvu?si=WnSRL28lQzy5S8ORuoAqyw)) * Hear 80 penetrating interviews with great musicians in the Play It Like It’s Music podcast archive (https://playitlikeitsmusic.substack.com/archive). * Sign the mailing list! (https://trevorexter.substack.com/subscribe?) * Follow me on IG (https://www.instagram.com/trevorexter/) \ TW (http://twitter.com/trevorexter) \ FB (http://facebook.com/trevorexter) Thanks for reading "Play It Like It's Music" by Trevor Exter! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. Get full access to "Play It Like It's Music" by Trevor Exter at playitlikeitsmusic.substack.com/subscribe (https://playitlikeitsmusic.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4)

2. 

   30 Aug 2023

   On music and structure

   Back from a short (unscheduled) silent spell, just in time for the shows to start this week: Thursday I’m playing my first show of the new stuff with a band. 5:30 pm at South Hill Cider (https://www.southhillcider.com) in Ithaca, NY. Opening for Bronwen Exter, my excellent sister who is also lending me her rhythm section. It’s for all ages, there’s no cover and apparently the cider is tasty, so bring the kids! - Trevor I told you I'd be posting every week, and that's still my intention. Of course the last time you heard from me was three weeks ago. Then I went into a real confusing funk, and it dawned on me. I remember turning 30, thinking "Great, it's time to flush all those childish games from my 20's down the toilet and become a real adult". Then when I turned 40 I thought "great, it's time to integrate all the hard lessons I learned in my 30's and become a real adult". Here I am today, a month into my 50's and I really can't say anything. I'm just here and I just have to own it: I am a mess. And the messy story is slowly starting to make a little hard-earned sense, but not enough. And milestones don't mean anything when you're neither here nor there. But I do have a 5-year old nephew. And when I tell him that I'm ten times as old as he is and his eyes go wide, I get all the perspective I need for a season. His mom, my sister Bronwen (http://www.bronwenexter.com/about), is messily providing her kids with an environment somewhat free of the disturbances she and I had as kids, but full of all kinds of new disturbances which will be their work to untangle. Such is life, the best we can do is stay in touch. Help each other find a way to appreciate where we are and pick out a path forward. I always need reminding that there's always a way forward, even when I don't see it. There's a big old gap in my brain, telling me I have nothing to say. But sometimes The Stuff I really want to say is maybe too cutting, too close for mere music promotion? For a moment I actually let myself think "promo" is all this publication is for. It takes a lot to keep my head in the game sometimes. But what do you do when your head and heart are exploding with vulnerability and you're full of fear, making up smallest-self reasons to hide & not be in touch? The reality is that I'm a bit paralyzed by the reality of what I'm doing here. Here I am, preparing to deliver a great experience to you this fall starting Thursday. How great? So great that you will feel compelled to share it with your friends and multiply the size of the audience to some critical, theoretical number that will somehow scale into my being able to deliver music for you in a properly prosperous way. So we can all be proud of our weird taste and know collectively that we weren't crazy, that the music is actually good for the world and worth our commitment to it. But I'm also processing a lot of misgivings about my choices over the years, how I might have given into my fears more than a few times, with the unintended result of having deprived you and myself of the opportunity to jam together. It wears my heart out, thinking of all the singing we could have done, that we did not get to do during the years in which I just couldn't get it together to go out on the road and play. To be fair, it's really, really hard for me to go out on the road and play. It's also really hard to find a voice for the feelings I have about it. But when I make this move to go play after a long time away from it, the grief of all the lost time and scattered energy comes up to shout at me. The battle inside me is fierce, just like any musician's battle to go out and do that which used to be so normal. But today I'd like to testify to a particular facet of my internal battle, something to which I know many of you can relate. It's about Music + Structure. For me music equals structure. That's because early in my life my family went through some displacements and some big structure changes which left me feeling mostly on my heels. Some of it was generational but the thing that filled the gap was music. I was lucky to be physically protected for the most part, but many of the important things that a child unconsciously depends on for their orientation, integration and growth, like home, neighborhood, location, school, society, friends, language, community... many of mine got scrambled up. Either taken totally away or just moved out of reach. At some point my parents observed that I was flailing a bit and they decided to get music lessons for me. In order to help me put some structure into my young brain. They didn't just get me music lessons: we got Suzuki music lessons. Suzuki is a kind of classical music cult for kids which, depending on who you ask, is either an abomination or the greatest thing ever. I can relate to both opinions but I don't really care because for me, at a cellular level, just to have any musical activity at all in my life was what saved me from going totally off the deep end at a young age. Suzuki helped save me by giving me a simple structure in which to play, learn music and connect with other kids. It was fun, I learned how to play by ear and hear melodies. I had a really fantastic teacher. But my need for structure beyond music was so great and so unaddressed that I ended up clinging to music in a less-than-healthy way and for less-than-healthy reasons through out my adolescence and young adulthood. This produced results I'm still having to process and recover from at age 50. People talk about the music business, the economy, the country, the climate, the rise and imminent fall of globalization... no matter where you look it's all changing too much and too fast and you still have to pick a side. But my flag is permanently planted in music. I believe in my bones that music is what we need to do more of. I believe our existence depends on immersing ourselves in the sounds that connect us. Maybe that’s my trauma talking, but it’s true too. It is my prayer that some of the healing I’ve experienced through my musical efforts will continue to touch folks out there who need to receive it. It’s not entertainment, it’s life itself On making true sounds: Anyway, here’s my genre description for the new stuff I’m supporting on this tour: I’m calling it Indie-Yacht. To spell it out, in case anyone asks: we’re talking Yacht rock without the yacht. Not for a******s. Melodic with a bit more grit & rocking with a little extra poise. You’ll be able to sing along to it unironically. So come out! Let me know if it fits. As always, big love to your ears. Thanks for tuning in here, we’ll talk more next week. Trevor Thanks for reading "Play It Like It's Music" by Trevor Exter! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. . . . Do you like my stuff? Please help the audience grow by sharing this post with one friend: * FALL 2023 TOUR DATES booking currently: @trevorexter.com (http://www.trevorexter.com) * Hear my music: the “Trevor Exter Playlist” (Spotify (https://open.spotify.com/user/cellosapiens/playlist/4v1HVQY1zDu9e4bQA3Kyvu?si=WnSRL28lQzy5S8ORuoAqyw)) * Hear 80 penetrating interviews with great musicians in the Play It Like It’s Music podcast archive (https://playitlikeitsmusic.substack.com/archive). * Sign the mailing list! (https://trevorexter.substack.com/subscribe?) * Follow me on IG (https://www.instagram.com/trevorexter/) \ TW (http://twitter.com/trevorexter) \ FB (http://facebook.com/trevorexter) Thanks for reading "Play It Like It's Music" by Trevor Exter! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. Get full access to "Play It Like It's Music" by Trevor Exter at playitlikeitsmusic.substack.com/subscribe (https://playitlikeitsmusic.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4)

3. 

   9 Aug 2023

   Singing loud and saying everything

   "What Freud mistook for her lack of civilization is woman's lack of loyalty to civilization" - Lillian Smith Moving forward: On self-silencing and un-silencing. A savvy cultural commentator might say that David Bowie died an extremely artistic, expressive death when he timed his final album release to coincide with it. Alongside all of the grief, you could indulge yourself in thinking - maybe just a little - that Blackstar (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blackstar_(album)) wasn't just an ambitious album but also an extremely powerful and innovative PR move by a well-resourced and celebrated man known for making powerful and innovative PR moves. All these years later I still think to myself, “wow, no one will ever top that one”. A fitting end to the Hero’s journey of a great musical hero. It’s a thin theory, and only possible to contemplate if you sidestep all of the struggle that such a “move” might have required. And only if you disregard the real grief of a real human’s death mourned by many millions of real people. You’d have to have a sick sense of humor like me. But even someone with my sick sense of humor has to simply shut up when contemplating Sinead O’Connor’s recent passing. There are no theories for it. I can’t say anything, I can only listen. So that’s what I’ve been doing. If a musician’s death could ever make me feel the opposite way that Bowie’s did, we just had one. But don’t listen to me, listen to her: Album: Sinead O’Connor, “Throw Down Your Arms” LP (2005) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qq9Ydinu3HU). Sinead + Sly & Robbie do the reggae hymn book. Audiobook: “Rememberings” (2021) by Sinead O’ Connor (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rememberings). Listened on the drive through Arizona and New Mexico. Haunting and heartbreaking. On making true sounds: I finally made it to the east coast and I'm finally starting to get a pretty clear idea of the mission here moving forward. Let me share it with you: In the first 80 episodes of the podcast I was asking each guest the following two questions: 1. Why do you play music? and 2. What separates the professional from the amateur? I had my reasons. Those two questions were relevant to me at the time, mainly because I was deeply questioining my own original reasons for starting down the professional path of a musician. I was going through some grief around having hit some dead ends in my own twisted creative path as well as certain collaborations that hadn't worked out. I had totally lost confidence in my own musical voice and ability, so I was turning to the folks I knew who seemed to have it together. Asking them how they did it. Thanks for reading "Play It Like It's Music" by Trevor Exter! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. We got some (https://playitlikeitsmusic.substack.com/p/008-james-mcbride-409#details) great (https://playitlikeitsmusic.substack.com/p/002-luqman-brown-a93#details) answers (https://playitlikeitsmusic.substack.com/p/the-carpet-of-confidence-kevin-chown#details) to those (https://playitlikeitsmusic.substack.com/p/burn-everything-except-the-truth#details) questions (https://playitlikeitsmusic.substack.com/p/theres-so-much-that-only-music-can#details). I am super proud of those interviews, and I stand by my reasons for conducting them in the way that I did. Many of you out there found them helpful, and they are still back there in the feed for you to listen to any time that you want. But they also catalyzed some healing in myself and an eventual evolution which made that particular line of questioning less relevant. I decided to pause the podcast, partly because we outgrew the format. What do I mean? Well for starters: the question of professionalism has totally expanded into our wider environment and into a larger set of questions about general survival, purpose and prosperity in an age when the actual bottom has dropped out of the music industry we used to know. Consequently the very ideal of professionalism is taking some hits. Music is totally still a profession, but the core approach of professionals who make our living in music has exploded into a million methods. The means of making a living as a musician keeps shifting. Gatekeepers have multiplied, while their standards for admission are less and less musical in nature. Musicians are adapting, and for many of us that means getting a day job or starting other businesses. It was true before. We've always been hustlers, but now it is simply no longer enough to ask about what separates professionals and amateurs. Pros and amateurs alike, we are all on this mission together. Your voice counts and you have to make it count. You are allowed to make it count in whatever way is true for you. We all have to fight for the dignity of the shared musical experience, and it's all hands on deck. The other question, "Why do you make music?" has also outlived its relevance. I wonder now whether the question was ever relevant, but at least it had some use as an icebreaker. Still, it's worded like a challenge. One that I believe went in the wrong direction. Because given the nature of music and what it can do for humanity, one should never feel required to explain their personal justification for making music. Not to ourselves, or anybody. We will do much better to ask "What stops you from making music" and apply ourselves to removing those obstacles. So I'll state for the record here on Wednesday August 9th, 2023 that music is not content, it's connection. And I’ll elaborate: not only do I believe in eliminating our barriers to the making of music, I'll take aim at the concept of professionalism when it becomes a form of gatekeeping. We are all amateurs, and we are all also eligible for professional roles in music should we choose to pursue them. But to point a finger and say so-and-so is or isn't “a professional musician” or such-and-such means of musicmaking is or isn't a professional way of doing it is potentially destructive to the musical culture as a whole, and I'm going to ignore the distinction in my dialogue moving forward. Make the truest sound you can. And as far as "Why do you make music" is concerned, ask yourself what is stopping you. Music has the capacity to organize and motivate populations well beyond the divisions of politics, which is why you don't hear me presenting any political opinions on this podcast. But I’ll say this: what's stopping you from making music is also something wrong with America. Like, what if you sang every day? What if you were to take your God-given right to make music and use it? And what if you paid it forward, finding ways to integrate it into the larger sounds of your community? Some political healing would probably take place. So my political stance is Play it like it's f*****g music. Make the truest sound you can, and then try to listen to it through other people's ears as much as you can. We'll get into that more, but mostly on a personal level because that's where the real work takes place. There's more power in music making than you realize, and these questions are much bigger than the music industry. More recs for this week: Watching: Chuck Berry, “Live in London 1972” on the BBC. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c7i4y8qNCn8&t=231s) Sinead says: “Best gig ever.” Reading: “Chuck Berry: An American Life" (2022) by R.J Smith (https://www.amazon.com/Chuck-Berry-American-RJ-Smith/dp/0306921634). The Shakespeare of rock n roll. Alan Toussaint said: “The man is a mountain.” On Substack: Venkatesh Rao with part 2 in a series about narrative technologies (https://substack.com/inbox/post/135726123). Bonus reference to Ursula Le Guin’s carrier bag theory of fiction. . As always, big love to your ears. Thanks for tuning in here, we’ll talk more next week. Trevor . . . Do you like my stuff? Please help the audience grow by sharing this post with one friend: * FALL 2023 TOUR DATES booking currently: @trevorexter.com (http://www.trevorexter.com) * Hear my music: the “Trevor Exter Playlist” (Spotify (https://open.spotify.com/user/cellosapiens/playlist/4v1HVQY1zDu9e4bQA3Kyvu?si=WnSRL28lQzy5S8ORuoAqyw)) * Hear 80 penetrating interviews with great musicians in the Play It Like It’s Music podcast archive (https://playitlikeitsmusic.substack.com/archive). * Sign the mailing list! (https://trevorexter.substack.com/subscribe?) * Follow me on IG (https://www.instagram.com/trevorexter/) \ TW (http://twitter.com/trevorexter) \ FB (http://facebook.com/trevorexter) Thanks for reading "Play It Like It's Music" by Trevor Exter! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. Get full access to "Play It Like It's Music" by Trevor Exter at playitlikeitsmusic.substack.com/subscribe (https://playitlikeitsmusic.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4)

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Apple Podcasts (US)

4.9 / 5

33 ratings

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