Tunes Tuesday: Ben Shaw

I don’t know if I’d say I have a favorite as much as I enjoy how they each offer me a different way to explore music. The saxophone is the instrument I’ve played the longest, so it’s by far the one I’m best on and the one that probably most accurately reflects who I am because of how much work and time I’ve put into it. I still have a lifetime of work left, but when I’m really warmed up and playing well, there’s a freedom of expression with it that’s hard to describe.

Whereas I wish I had put more work into guitar and piano earlier in life because I can feel in my hands all the choices I want to make, and I can hear wonderful music ready to come out, but I just can’t get there on either right now. But both are essential to who I am as a writer.

Guitar helped me rekindle my love for writing songs and explore a different side of my writing. It also allowed me to perform by myself, which meant that I could gig, meet other songwriters, learn new things, connect with people in a different way, and perform in a lot of unique, exciting situations that I never would have had a chance to otherwise.

As for piano, it has been the most essential tool for me when it comes to composing music and opening up whole new worlds of music. Having all the notes at your fingertips, being able to hear the entire orchestra right in front of you, to access all the possibilities of a musical idea; there’s nothing that equals it. I often think if I could trade my abilities as a sax player for another instrument, it’d be piano, but then I pick up the horn to play, and I’m reminded of this incredible connection I have to it through my breath, my lungs, my hands, and I don’t know how I could ever wish that away.

I also love being a singer and trying to be better at using my voice as an instrument. There’s nothing more true or human than making music with your own natural voice.

Honestly, it’s only because I just really love old mills, haha.

There is something so pure and unique about Big Nice Studio. At the risk of over-sentimentality, it’s everything that I hoped for my musical life to be. Calling something magic seems so boring and cliché, but I don’t know if another word could be as accurate.

It’s these huge rooms filled with incredible gear and instruments waiting to be plucked, strummed, hit, or dialed to create whatever array of sound you can conjure. There’s weird, eclectic art all over the walls and spilling out onto the floor. Everywhere you look is exciting and invigorating. You step in and you immediately want to make the best music you’ve ever made, and as is evident in everything that comes out of Big Nice, people always do.

And of course, the building is not even close to the most important part. It’s about the people there working with you. There is not enough space on the internet for me to summarize my appreciation and admiration for Bradford Krieger, who owns and operates Big Nice. Time and time again, he has helped me wrestle out the greatest music I could ever hope to hear. He is brutally, lovingly honest with me when something sucks and will make me feel like Superman when we get the right take. He has been one of my most trusted mentors and creative partner, and I can’t imagine a world in which my music sounds as individual and personal if he’s not there.

Which can also be said for Emma Newton, whom I haven’t gotten to work as much with as Brad but who has been an incredible collaborative voice who knows exactly how to execute their job at the highest level. They have been a dream to work with whenever I get the fortune to book a session with them.

Big Nice even recently began to act as a host venue for a monthly Big Band session that I’ve been putting together for the past few months. Which, it’s hard enough coordinating all the various musician schedules, let alone finding a space big enough to accommodate a full, 18-piece jazz big band. I’ve wanted to build out this sort of session for about fourteen years, so to have it be a reality, and at one of my most cherished places, feels like a dream.

There are a couple of venues right now that I love for different reasons.

Myrtle is close to, if not the top of the list, because it’s just so unlike any spot in Providence. They have this unique array of vintage styling beautifully curated around the room that encapsulates the eclectic weirdness that makes this community so special. Not only does it make for a gorgeous performance space but also tends to attract thoughtful, attentive audiences who really give a shit about the performances happening in the room and respond well to whatever it is you bring to them. Tommy, Natalie, and the whole staff are doing great work over there, which is why it’s quickly become the go-to place for local musicians.

I have a deep love for The Parlour, one of the other greatest rooms in Providence, not only for personal history but for my appreciation of the owner, Gregory Rourke. I have played there countless nights in innumerable bands over many years; walking in feels as comfortable as being in my living room. Plus, being a jazz musician alongside my singing and songwriting, I have immense gratitude for Gregory for keeping a regular Sunday jazz series going for over a decade. Especially for being one of the only places in the state that regularly programs original jazz.

After things started opening back up from the pandemic shutdown, Gregory agreed to let me restart the monthly jazz jam they had going. Now, the First Sunday Jazz Jam is in its fourth year and going strong with an ever-growing community of jammers and audience members who pack the room every month.

An honorable mention only because it pops up seasonally is the Industrious Spirit Company. Their outdoor patio on Sims Ave is a hidden gem that I sort of selfishly hope stays relatively hidden so I can keep getting gigs there. It has this cool, industrial, brick, throwback vibe that is all its own. The staff there is incredibly warm and welcoming. And because it’s outdoors, we are usually limited to the summer, so gigs there always feel like a relaxed hang with friends that breaks out into an awesome show. Plus, the drinks and spirits are some of the best in the state.

Yeah, it’s going to be a huge sound! The Myrtle stage is a decent size, but even then there are so many of us, part of the band spills out onto the floor. The best part is that the band is stacked with incredible players who are all some of my best friends and closest music collaborators. Folks who I’ve been playing with for years and can truly trust to serve the music and performance by any means necessary.

One of my main focuses the past couple of years has been figuring out how to make local shows more special. I don’t want to over-saturate Providence by performing too much, so I’m trying to keep it to about three or four big shows a year. And because there’s less to plan for, it gives me a chance to go a little bit bigger for each show and come up with different ideas to make each unique and exciting for the audience.

The fun part for me is letting my imagination run a little wild and allowing myself to lean into whatever ideas I feel work to express the overall intent of each show. These ideas may be weird, incongruous, excessive, or arguably cringe, but as long as they serve the performance and the greater “art piece” that we’re trying to present, then everything is on the table for these shows.

Musically, that could mean a different arrangement of a song, playing a newly written piece, a strange cover, improvising different transitions, etc.  But it could also mean some sort of movement or audience participation or who knows what else.

Live performances are so fun for the musicians because they can be these chances to go out on a limb and try something that will only ever happen once. Which we hope all makes it more exciting for the audience because then you can build up the relationship with them that they keep coming back knowing that anything could happen and trust that you’re going to go all out to give them the best show you possibly can every time.

In trying to make each of these big performances special, I’ve been trying to find a way to delineate which shows will be the large ensemble, big vision, “weird shit” shows, and which are just like, me playing solo acoustic opening up the night for another band. To me, having the show titled not only helps separate that, but also heightens the show a bit. It gives it some juice.

I also think it helps set the intent for us in the band. When there’s a title, it makes it seem like “oh this is a performance piece, that has a defined beginning, middle, and end” and makes it feel a little more important. How you dress, set up, get on stage, stand in front of the microphone, order the set list, etc.; it all in some way affects how well you play the music. Not that any of the musicians playing with me need any help to play well — they’re all excellent in their own right — but raising the bar, even a little, makes us want to reach up that much more.

As for the name, that came along when I was looking for a way to describe this new collection of music I’ve been working on for the past two or so years. I feel like a lot of my songwriting has centered on stories that explore the many faces of hope and heartache, and what that all means in the everyday lives of people. Both ideas can exist in this ill-defined middle ground, neither is completely positive or negative.

I find “hope” to be particularly fascinating because it can manifest in so many different ways. You hope that you’ll have a great day at work.  You hope you make it to the gas station with your car riding on empty. You hope your brother’s cancer will go into remission. You hope your girlfriend says yes when she sees the ring in your pocket.

Hope lives alongside desperation, joy, sorrow, peace, and so much more. And to me, the best songs, the best live shows, the best musicians know how to weave all those together and reflect our own individual lives back at us — both good and bad — and help us feel the hidden beauty all around us. So our hope, is that you leave Myrtle on March 7th feeling just that.