Michael Gaither

We lost songwriter Chuck McCabe a year ago. I’m still amazed (well, not really) when I meet someone and discover that our musical three degrees of separation goes right back to Chuck. (Chuck meant a lot to a lot of people. He still does.) I was in the camp of new-ish songwriters who only knew Chuck the last few years he was with us. Chuck was a hell of a songwriter. He loved the craft, and he enjoyed taking people under his wing to discuss it and share what he’d learned. He could also pull a great joke out of the ether.

I recently went through my old “/chuck” email folder and was surprised (well, not really) at how many exchanges he and I had about music, writing, and recording. He taught me a lot. I’m still learning.

“Not a whole lot of folks have gone through this [recording] process. It’s a strange addiction, and I confess to having the disease. Maybe we need a support group: ‘Hello, my name’s Chuck, and I’m a recordaholic.'”

“There will always be one audible thing on your finished CD that makes you visibly cringe whenever you hear it…and no one else will ever even know it’s there.”

“I can almost guarantee your efforts will take you somewhere unexpected, so get out there and promote yourself till they all puke (maybe you, too). We’re not going away. I suspect we’re both already working on our next plot for world-domination right now, am I wrong?”

“Although we ultimately have to please ourselves (I write for me) I find it nearly impossible to lose the awareness that people are going to listen to this stuff, and consciously or otherwise, keep asking myself what I have that they would like to hear. I think this is an assessment of one’s strengths, not a pandering to others’ taste. Some songs, you have to write regardless of what anybody thinks, but many I think, are written to entertain, and rope ’em in if you will. I think you are doing this too, whether you know it or not. You wouldn’t pass along a joke unless you thought people were going to laugh, eh?”

“A cowpoke rides up to the saloon, gets off his horse and goes around behind… lifts up the tail, and plants a big ol’ kiss on the horse’s ass. An old timer sittin’ on the porch falls out of his chair and says: ‘I’ve been on the range 40 years and I ain’t never seen THAT before!… what in hell?’ ‘Well, Pops… I’ve got chapped lips,’ the cowboy replies. ‘And that cures ’em?’ ‘Naw, but it sure keeps me from lickin’ ’em.'”

To learn more about Chuck, visit his web site. It became a living memorial as of July 23rd last year. People from all over the world posted comments, thoughts, and remembrances. If you’d like to hear Chuck talk about his “Creatures of Habit” record, his fondness for Redding, or the joy he got in playing in rest homes for Young at Heart, check out episodes #37, #38, and #67 of the “Songs and Stories” podcast.

Of course, the best thing you can do is go to Chuck’s music page to pick up the wonderful legacy he left us on his five CDs.