A Silver Tray Q/A: Mira Tanna of Spinning Jenny
Our Second Conversation About the Band and Its Album, "The Great Story"
Just over a year ago, a wonderful collection of music appeared on Bandcamp. The nine songs of Spinning Jenny’s short history were retouched and released as the album The Great Story, a nice testament to short life of this St. Louis band, circa 1994/95. You don’t have to take my word on the quality of the release; it’s available for streaming and purchase on Bandcamp.
Yesterday, we caught up with multi-instrumentalist and co-vocalist Sean Garcia, who discussed the ways in which he and several former members of Three Merry Widows (Charles Shipman, bass; Brian Simpson, guitar and banjo; and the late Matt Albert, drums and percussion) continued making music after the dissolution of 3MWs. In time, they were joined in the new project, Spinning Jenny, by vocalist Meryl Press and Mira Tanna on violin; the latter joins us in emailed coversation today.
What was your fandom, in terms of Three Merry Widows? Had you seen/heard them a lot, a little? What was your general take on the group's music and sound? I had never seen Three Merry Widows prior to joining Spinning Jenny. It was all for the best, since I probably would have been intimidated had I known more.
How did these songs come together? Were some demos that the Widows had been working through? Or was this material all-new to this group of six players? The songs were all new to me. It seemed to me that sometimes Sean, Brian or Meryl came up with a chord progression that they liked or a melody or a concept, and then we just jammed for a while and made it in to something new. Some songs came more fully formed than others but there was always an openness for members to try out different harmonies or sounds until we all felt things fall into place. I came from a classical tradition and grew up playing in orchestras, learning classical violin and piano, and singing in school and church choirs. I was a great sight-reader, and could play fairly well when notes were written on a page, but improvising was entirely foreign to me. I had learned some music theory at music camp or piano lessons, but didn't know how to apply it. So being in a band was novel: slightly terrifying at times to be in unfamiliar territory, but also firing up all of the neurons. The other members of the band were very patient and open-minded. They never told me that I sounded awful, even though I'm sure I often did. When they liked something, they let me know it, and I would try to keep coming up with phrases and sounds that evoked a positive response.
To your thinking at the moment: how did you feel about joining a core group of musicians that had a lot of respect in-and-around St. Louis, already? Any pressure in joining what was already both a band and a group of tight friends? How did you come into the group? Any type of formal audition, or was it more a matter of friends talking to friends, inviting you into the project in an organic manner? Luckily, I didn't know what a big deal they were. I just responded to an ad for a string player. I came out and played with them once, and they invited me back. They were kind and funny, and I enjoyed making music with them, even though I often felt unsure of myself.
Recording. Who, what, where, when, why...? These were largely home studio recordings? Even for a non-technical person, how did these songs go down on tape? Again, this was my first recording experience. It felt like magic to record tracks separately and then put them together and master them in a way that really brought out the interplay between the instruments and vocals.
Lyrics. Who wrote them? Solo or in tandem? How much importance did you place on the lyrical aspect of the group? The melody and instrumentation usually came first and then Meryl - and maybe Sean - would add the lyrics. “The Link” was an exception, as I remember. Meryl told us about meeting this old guy on Delmar who was a Holocaust survivor, and she wanted to write about it. I spent a lot of time in The Loop, so I have a picture of an old man - who may or may not be the person that Meryl talked to, and I always had that picture in my mind when we played the song. My mom grew up in the Netherlands during World War II. A number of my family members had to go into hiding during the war. My great uncle was very active in the resistance and ended up being caught. He had to dig his own grave and was shot in it at Kamp Vught. So this song always meant a lot to me, and I felt connected to it. I think it had an even bigger impact when I heard it again and still felt the resonance and remembered this man. Meryl found a way to take this one interaction and paint a picture of it while still making the experience universal.
I think “Evening” might have been the exact opposite, with the music creating a mood that evoked language. Making this song felt like synesthesia.
Hopefully not too quirky a question, but what do you think of these songs today? Were they like connecting with old friends when revisiting? It was literally a connection with old friends when Brian and Sean got in touch to ask about re-releasing the Spinning Jenny tunes. They reintroduced me to the music which was re-imagined and remastered, so it was new and fresh and familiar at the same time. I hadn't been in touch with any of them for many years, and it's always a joy to hear from someone that you've fallen out of touch with. It also felt like a connection to a former self: the me not long after graduating from college when I was still in that exploratory phase of young adult life, before getting married, having kids and moving to Orlando. The re-release of this music has been guided by Sean and Brian, but I'm proud to have been part of the project.
What's the response been like, from friends and fans since these songs reappeared in June of 2022? Any surprising responses? Even amongst yourselves? Humbling. I tried to share it with my teenagers, thinking that they might somehow see me in a different light. (It did not make their Spotify Wrap list suffice it to say! They actually think I'm cooler for illegally bringing medicines in to Iraq or for forcing banks to stop redlining than anything I've done musically!) It may reach a niche audience, but there is something about this music that feels undefinable in terms of its age, and because of that, I think it may impact fewer people over a longer period of time and from far-flung places. That's okay with me. I'm glad it's out there in the world for someone to stumble on.
Lastly -- and this could or could not be tricky -- what did you want to happen with this release? Reconnection with one another? A desire for these songs to simply be heard? What's the notion of "success" for this collection of stellar songs in your mind(s)? I had no expectations for this release, so just the fact that you've been interested is an unexpected surprise. My notion of success is for someone to hear a song that they are drawn to and maybe fall in love with it across time and space. That would be lovely.
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Kind Readers, Please Note: You can become a subscriber to Thomas Crone’s Memory Hall via the inset links. You can receive the weekly Memory Hall email on Thursday, or the Silver Try content only. Your choice! Free subs are great, paid subs are definitely great (but never expected). There’s also a tip option in that little outro number below. Have enjoyed seeing the first five of these interviews come to life. A number of other, cool conversations are planned for the near future.
As with yesterday’s piece, we send this one out to the memory of Matt Albert.