Swan Dive Reviews

"We try to capture everything we love about pop music in our songs," says Bill DeMain of Swan Dive, "from strong melodies and intelligent lyrics to a sense of playfulness and adventure in the arrengements. But the most important thing for us is to connect emotionally with the listener."

Since forming in 1993, the duo of Bill DeMain (guitar, vocals) and Molly Felder (vocals, cocktail drum, clarinet) have been connecting with fans both in thier hometown of Nashville and in far-off Japan, where they've enjoyed stellar success - three top 10 singles, many television and radio appearances, videos on MTV and tours full of, as Demain puts it, "Hard Day's Night moments."

For their debut U.S. release, they've chosen a baker's dozen of the best from their three Japanese albums. Reaching deep into a grab bag of influences - The Beatles, Bacharach & David, Simon & Garfunkel, Antonio Carlos Jobim, Philly Soul, 60s movie soundtracks - the twosome pull out song after wonderful song. From the yearning, upbeat "The Day That I Went Home" and the full-on melodic sparkle of "Circle" to the string-drenched melancholic "Goodbye September" and the stunning ballad "And She Dreams," and capping it all off with a fresh take on the Blondie hit "Heart of Glass," the disc is an unforgettable mix of the voices and writing talents of DeMain and Felder.

DeMain's songs have appeared on records by Jill Sobule and Marshall Crenshaw, and he has also collaborated with renowned Japanese artists Chocolat and Yuko Yamaguchi (with the latter, he wrote the theme for a popular Japanese TV show called Beach Boy.

A former editor at Performing Songwriter Magazine, DeMain learned a lot from the many artists he interviewed, from Billy Joel to Sarah McLachlan. "Getting to discuss the creative process with all these fantastic writers has definitely helped me broaden my own palette," he says.

As a vocalist, Felder has sung on a number of national jingles and with many well-known artists, from Amy Grant to Jill Sobule to Sixpence None The Richer.

"My favorite singers are Eddi Reader, k.d. lang and Rickie Lee Jones", she says, "but I'm influenced more by the spirit of what they do than the actual style. It's important for me to have my own sound."

Swan Dive was produced by Brad Jones (Jill Sobule, Imperial Drag, Cotton Mather) and features guest appearances by ace lyricist Tony Asher (Brian Willson's collaborator on the classic Pet Sounds LP) on "Ordinary Day" and former Jellyfish singer Andy Sturmer on "And She Dreams."

As for the CD's ear-catching arrangements, Felder comments, "We don't actually spend a lot of time in pre-production, other than deciding on some of the musicians we want to use. Instead we make the studio our laboratory, taking each song individually and experimenting with different sounds and textures until we find what we want. A lot of what happens is a happy accident."

With a style that Music Row says is "hip and hitworthy" and MTV Online calls "perfectly crafted pop," Swan Dive, with their rich blend of innocence and experience, love and loss, shadow and light, is sure to delight lovers of pop music everywhere.

Let the Music Play The Nashville Scene 3/9/2000

FULL CIRCLE: Exquisite local pop duo finally sees local release

by Jim Ridley

How many Nashville bands have to license their work from a Japanese label just so they can release it domestically in their own hometown? We can think of one: Swan Dive. The popular file-under-pop duo of Molly Felder and Bill DeMain has put out three overseas releases on the Japanese branch of Richard Branson's V2 records; the pair even made the Japanese Top 10 at one point. Even so, V2's domestic branch balked at releasing the group's excellent 1999 CD Circle in America. That made it easier to buy a copy of Circle in Tokyo than in Nashville, despite the fact that Felder and DeMain both live here and recorded the album in town with local musicians.

Fortunately for lovers of exquisitely crafted pop, that's going to change next week. Next Tuesday, Nashville indie Compass Records releases Swan Dive, a "12 + 1" track CD that compiles most of Circle along with a couple of tracks from their other Japanese releases, including the prized Wintergreen EP. The 12 originals form an elegant synthesis of cocktail-hour languor, European film-soundtrack exotica, and classic three-minute single songcraft, produced to veil-of-sound perfection by Brad Jones. (The "+1" is a stylish slo-mo rendition of Blondie's "Heart of Glass," ideally suited to Felder's cooly postcoital vocals.) To celebrate rescuing their record from domestic V2, Swan Dive is performing a CD-release show Saturday at the Bluewind jazz club in Franklin.

"We had been kind of discouraged when V2 didn't put out Circle," says DeMain, who recalls playing a showcase gig in New York that was received well by everyone but their "nonpulsed" reps-to-be. But Compass president Garry West says he told the group that if V2 "in it's infinite wisdom" ever dropped the ball with Circle, he'd give it a home. Felder had sung backup already on Clive Gregson's Compass album I Love This Town, and Swan Dive's shimmering, hooky sound fits in with some of the label's other artists, such as former Fairground Attraction vocalist Eddi Reader.

"We've known Bill and Molly for a long time, and we're huge fans of them as artists and people," West says. "They're great performers, they're great lyrically, and they make very strong contemporary pop music." For his part, DeMain says Compass couldn't be more different than V2 in every respect, from marketing to personal interest. "There's a reason why they're one of the only indie labels in the black," he notes.

After the Saturday show, Swan Dive embarks on a 10-date tour of the Northeast, including a gig at New York's Fez. DeMain has also been writing with Compass label-mate Boo Herwerdine, The Shazam!'s Hans Rotenberry, and Jill Sobule; he and Felder expect to start a new album later this year. And the group's Asian following remains loyal. Last year, the group's Japanese single "Groovy Tuesday" was covered by Qu Ying, the Chinese model and actress who starred in Zhang Yimou's 1997 film Keep Cool. "She sang it in Mandarin," DeMain says approvingly. Now that Circle will finally be heard in the States, maybe somebody will cover it in English.

Tour Diary
I Am Spartacus
by Bill DeMain (originally published by In Natural Magazine)

Before I left for Swan Dive's tour of Japan, I took a break from packing to watch the video of That Thing You Do. It was my fourth time to see it, but once again, I got caught up in the story of a fledgling 60s band riding the crest of their first big hit single, complete with screaming fans, autographs, interviews, radio and television appearances - the whole pop life vigorously lived out in under two hours.
While there's some basic differences - the wide-eyed innocence of 1964 is a far cry from 1997, and Swan Dive isn't the first band I've been in - our tour of Japan certainly had a lot of That Thing You Do moments. The following is from notes I kept during our trip.

October 22, 1997: The Air Necessities

The flight from Nashville to Tokyo, counting a layover in Detroit, is nearly 16 1/2 hours. Molly and I talk about how excited we are to arrive, to perform, to see our friends. We read. We fidget. We talk some more. We watch movies. It's impossible for me to sleep on the plane. I can't find a comfortable position. Molly has the window seat, so at least she can rest her head to the side. After the end of the third movie, Breakdown, with Kurt Russell, I close my eyes for an hour or two, pretending to be asleep. Then the captain announces, "Ladies and gentlemen, we've begun our descent into Tokyo Narita airport."
We arrive, get though customs and meet our party at the gate. Yoshi, our friend and manager, is accompanied by Toshi and Chika, who work for the concert promotion company handling the tour. Introductions all around.
After an hour and a half drive to the Tobu Hotel in Shibuya, we check in, get freshened up and then we're off to a party to celebrate the release of our new CD, Wintergreen. It's wonderful to see all the friendly faces of the Tristar Records gang again. They applaud as we enter the cafe, then for the next two hours we talk, laugh and eat, until finally Molly and I can barely keep our eyes open. Back to the hotel.

October 23, 1997: Questions & Answers

I wake up to what sounds like children screaming outside the hotel room window. Then I remember the blackbirds. Tokyo has these mutant super crows that swoop through the morning air, cawing in thick, throaty calls. They're straight out of Edgar Allan Poe.
Today is the first of five days of heavy promotion preceding the live shows. We have an average of eight interviews per day, interspersed with radio performances and TV appearances. Coming from Nashville, where we might do one interview a year, this is media overload. And I love it!
As a magazine writer myself, I'm impressed by the music journalists we meet. They know their facts and more importantly, they've listened to our record. That may sound like a redundant compliment, but believe me, in America these days, journalists don't seem to care enough to do that basic bit of homework. Moreover, the Japanese journalists are passionate music fans. They know their pop history. They're enthusiastic about records and bands and rare B-sides.
Of course, after two days of interviews, some repetition creeps into their questions. The most popular ones: "How is it for Swan Dive coming from Nashville, a town known mainly for country music?" and "What's it like working with the producer Brad Jones?" We try to vary our answers.
Each interview is followed by a photo session. This is slightly daunting for me. I've come to terms with the fact that I'm not a matinee idol. Mostly, I just try to smile and keep my eyes open. I do have some nifty thrift store suits to wear, so at least my clothes will look cool. When Molly and I need to relax in front of the camera, we play a word association game called George Washington Carver. One person says the name of a celebrity or well-known person - Richard Dreyfuss, for example. Then the next person has to respond with a related name - say, Richard Nixon or Julia Louis Dreyfus. It sets us at ease and always amuses the photographers.

October 25, 1997: Singles Going Steady!

A That Thing You Do moment. I hear "Groovy Tuesday" on the radio! Our single is racing up the carts on radio stations all over Japan. We're sharing some rarified air with the likes of Boyz II Men, Oasis, Janet Jackson and The Rolling Stones. Incredible! It feels like even more of a coup because our song is basically a dressed up demo. A lot of it was recorded in my apartment with cheapo mikes. So much for modern technology.
---
Tokyo is a girl watcher's paradise. For a closet ogler such as myself, I find that no matter where I turn my gaze, there's a lovely young woman. All of them are so lithe, graceful and demure, with shimmery hair, smooth complexions and stylish clothing. The sidewalks are catwalks here. I'm falling in love every two minutes.
---
Another busy day. Kyo wa totemmo isogashii desu. At one of the photo sessions, we're outside in a park. Molly is recreating the giant 12-foot woman from our video for "The Day That I Went Home." With her pink flamingo hat and long spindly arms (actually cardboard poles with mannequin hands attached), she's drawing more than a few curious stares from passers by.
---
Molly has her own make-up and hair person, Kato-san. He's always got his eye on her, looking for a spot that needs touching up or a renegade strand of hair. It's fun to watch.

October 26, 1997: Ogenki desu ka?

Prior to this trip, Molly and I had taken a few months of Japanese language classes. I think out of respect for the people we've met, many of whom can speak our native language fluently, we wanted to at least make an effort to learn theirs. We know some basic phrases and we can ask questions such as "Tokyo eki wa doko desu ka?" and "Ima nan ji desu ka?" But our tiny bit of knowledge sure comes in handy today.
We film segments for a TV show, Music Bazar, first at an amusement park, then at a traditional Japanese restaurant. We have to read many long, unfamiliar Japanese phrases from cue cards, and I'm grateful that we have a fundamental grasp of pronunciation, so at least we don't sound like total rubes.
---
I like the taxi drivers in Tokyo. They are men of quiet decorum. With white cloth gloves, they grip the wheel at 10 and 2 O' clock. Their eyes are fixed on the puzzle of threading their small vehicles through the maze of Tokyo streets. What a nice change from New York cabbies.
---
The hectic pace, coupled with the fact that I feel like I haven't eaten a substantial meal since I've been here, is taking its toll. I'm exhausted, with a slight tickle in my throat. I've probably talked more in the past few days than I have the whole year! Our first show is tomorrow, so I don't want to even think about getting sick. I can't, I won't.

October 27, 1997: Stormy Monday

The morning of our opening night and my voice has disappeared. Knowing how healthy I've been for the past year and a half, this is incredible to me, some kind of cosmic joke. I'm panicking. I'm hoping that herbal tea, lemons, hydrogen peroxide and lozengers will pull me through.
---
Unfortunately, they don't. The first show, while not a disaster, is pretty rough. It shakes my confidence. My voice holds out for about three songs, then it's gone. I screw up big time in "Groovy Tuesday," forgetting the modulation in the final chorus. Yikes!
Afterwards, our friends from the press and the label are kind, but I want to crawl off and hide somewhere. I think of the scene in That Thing You Do where The Wonders' first big show is a mass of feedback and dropped instruments. I need to sleep.

October 28, 1997: Groovy Tuesday

I'm feeling a little better.
Breakfast in Japan is an adjustment. At home, it's usually my most elaborate meal. I'll alternate between mushroom and green pepper omelettes, scrambled tofu, fresh fruit shakes, english muffins and muesli. After a few days of soba noodles and then some crullers and coffee from Mr. Donut, I'm nostalgic for my own cooking.
---
I get a boost from a magical Chinese elixir with herbs and royal jelly (thanks Yoshi!) and it helps make our second show at Tokyo's Club Quattro everything the first wasn't. We revamp the set list slightly, leaving out a few songs that I might not be able to sing. Though my voice is only about 65% there, we sound really good, relaxed. "Free," "The Day That I Went Home" and "Words" all get a loud response. Halfway into the set we do "Benny's Grave," a song from our first record. In a single white spotlight, Molly plays solo clarinet over the slow waltz intro, then as the tempo leaps into a swing groove, the lights come up on Mike and I, wearing skeleton masks. It's our little way of celebrating Halloween and the audience really digs it.
Ever since I started playing guitar in high school, I've dreamed of the day when I could say on stage, "This is our brand new single." I finally got to say it! "This is our brand new single, 'Groovy Tuesday.'" Everyone cheered. What a wonderful feeling.
After our encores, Molly and I walked along the front of the stage, sahking hands with some of our fans. Kids were actually shouting our names, reaching out for us. What an incredible rush. I think of the main character's line in That Thing You Do: "I am Spartacus."
Then, immediately after the show, Molly, Mike and I skip protocol and go out into the lobby to meet our fans. We're instantly mobbed by girls wanting autographs and photos! In the months to come, whenever I'm feeling down or having a bout with the blues, I'll remember these moments.
Backstage, we receieve a long line of friends, fans, journalists and other music business folks. Everyone is warm and so kind, giving us gifts and high praise. We even meet the head CEO of Sony, who has flown in from Hong Kong especially for our show. What an honor!

October 29, 1997: The Man, The Train

A word about our manager Yoshi Nagato. I'll be eternally grateful to him, because he was the first person who really believed in Swan Dive enough to go to the record labels with our music. Where other people in the business heard something that was stylistically hard to categorize or difficult to format, Yoshi heard music that he thought was great, and that was enough for him. During our tour, Yoshi takes care of everything. His energy knows no bounds. When I picture him, he's in motion, walking the Tokyo streets at a fast clip, running ahead to find about train schedules, sorting out last minute details, always with a positive attitude. He's a remarkable guy, and also possessor of one of the most knowledgable and passionate minds about pop music I've ever encountered. I feel fortunate to know him.
---
We ride the bullet train, or Shinkansen, to Nagoya. As it's name implies, it's sleek, fast and clean. I doze, but catch some of the night scenery flashing by the windows. No open space, but one continuous cityscape, lit up white, red, yellow and blue. There's more leg room than a jet airplane. A dapper little guy in a brown-and-white checked uniform wheels a refreshment cart through every twenty minutes or so.

October 30, 1997: Nagoya!

Somehow I thought Nagoya would appear much smaller than Tokyo, but the cab ride is another trip through a shimmering gauntlet of bright storefronts and neon lights that seem to stretch for miles in every direction.
---
Staff Gang, the company that's putting on our concerts, is doing an amazing job. All details are attended to - the sound systems are clear and powerful, and the lights, especially in Tokyo, reflect the changing moods of the songs in our set. Again, this is all such a step up for us, because in Nashville, a lot of the clubs have crappy P.A.'s and the light show consists of a few washed out spots that stay on at the same intensity for the whole set. And I could certainly get used to having my guitar tuned and set up before every performance.
---
The crowd in Nagoya is reserved, but appreciative. After the enthusiasm of the Tokyo audience, it's a little off-putting at first. But we're told that the character of the Nagoya residents is very shy and diffident.

October 31, 1997: Trick Or Treat!

During our final show in Osaka, we find the relaxed groove that's been missing. My throat is clear, so I can sing unimpeded at last, which restores my confidence. Mike walks on stage in a white policeman's helmet, waving one of those red-tipped flashlights that looks like a miniature version of a Star Wars light sabre. During the night, he breaks into unannounced James Brown dances. He's hilarious. Molly has learned some Osaka slang - "Mo karimaka?" "Bochi bochi de na," and "Okini" - and the audience eats it up. The mix is perfect. We sail through the set. We add a third encore, "Let 'Em In," by McCartney & Wings. This is how it should be.

November 1-4: Our Days Off

My first day off I devote to shopping. It's a holiday in Japan, so the Shibuya streets are teeming with shoppers, couples and families out enjoying the day. I find a store called Time Is On, which has 60s style British straight leg trousers and very smart shirts and sweaters. The prices are high, especially for a thrift store shopper such as myself, but the fashions and selection are too good to pass up. Next I hit the record stores, Tower, HMV, Recofan and a whole slew of upstairs specialty shops. I buy a bunch of Italian movie soundtrack compilations, a Ben Folds 5 live bootleg and some 60s British invasion stuff that's impossible to find in the states. At the end of the day, I return to the hotel, loaded down with bags, like a Christmas shopper in New York City.
---
If I had to pick one thing about our whole experience in Japan that overwhelms me the most, it would be the Swan Dive displays in the record stores. In the U.S., we are a regional act with a small following in our hometown, Nashville.. But here in Japan, we're given the full star treatment with our likenesses in styrofoam and cardboard right next to international acts such as Mariah Carey, Stereolab, Oasis and Hanson. In HMV, there's a beautiful end rack display with a listening station devoted to Wintergreen. I can't help but hang around, watching customers slip on the headphones as they check out our CD. It makes me so proud, especially when someone carries one off to the register.
---
It's time to return to Nashville. I don't want to go back, but I have a feeling that this is only the beginning for Swan Dive. There's been some talk of releasing our next record internationally, through Europe and Asia. Suddenly, I realize that we're going to have a career.

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	Let the Music Play The Nashville Scene 3/9/2000 FULL CIRCLE: Exquisite local pop duo finally sees local release by Jim Ridley How many Nashville bands have to license their work from a Japanese label just so they can release it domestically in their own hometown? We can think of one: Swan Dive. The popular file-under-pop duo of Molly Felder and Bill DeMain has put out three overseas releases on the Japanese branch of Richard Branson's V2 records; the pair even made the Japanese Top 10 at one point. Even so, V2's domestic branch balked at releasing the group's excellent 1999 CD Circle in America. That made it easier to buy a copy of Circle in Tokyo than in Nashville, despite the fact that Felder and DeMain both live here and recorded the album in town with local musicians. Fortunately for lovers of exquisitely crafted pop, that's going to change next week. Next Tuesday, Nashville indie Compass Records releases Swan Dive, a "12 + 1" track CD that compiles most of Circle along with a couple of tracks from their other Japanese releases, including the prized Wintergreen EP. The 12 originals form an elegant synthesis of cocktail-hour languor, European film-soundtrack exotica, and classic three-minute single songcraft, produced to veil-of-sound perfection by Brad Jones. (The "+1" is a stylish slo-mo rendition of Blondie's "Heart of Glass," ideally suited to Felder's cooly postcoital vocals.) To celebrate rescuing their record from domestic V2, Swan Dive is performing a CD-release show Saturday at the Bluewind jazz club in Franklin. "We had been kind of discouraged when V2 didn't put out Circle," says DeMain, who recalls playing a showcase gig in New York that was received well by everyone but their "nonpulsed" reps-to-be. But Compass president Garry West says he told the group that if V2 "in it's infinite wisdom" ever dropped the ball with Circle, he'd give it a home. Felder had sung backup already on Clive Gregson's Compass album I Love This Town, and Swan Dive's shimmering, hooky sound fits in with some of the label's other artists, such as former Fairground Attraction vocalist Eddi Reader. "We've known Bill and Molly for a long time, and we're huge fans of them as artists and people," West says. "They're great performers, they're great lyrically, and they make very strong contemporary pop music." For his part, DeMain says Compass couldn't be more different than V2 in every respect, from marketing to personal interest. "There's a reason why they're one of the only indie labels in the black," he notes. After the Saturday show, Swan Dive embarks on a 10-date tour of the Northeast, including a gig at New York's Fez. DeMain has also been writing with Compass label-mate Boo Herwerdine, The Shazam!'s Hans Rotenberry, and Jill Sobule; he and Felder expect to start a new album later this year. And the group's Asian following remains loyal. Last year, the group's Japanese single "Groovy Tuesday" was covered by Qu Ying, the Chinese model and actress who starred in Zhang Yimou's 1997 film Keep Cool. "She sang it in Mandarin," DeMain says approvingly. Now that Circle will finally be heard in the States, maybe somebody will cover it in English.
	Tour Diary I Am Spartacus by Bill DeMain (originally published by In Natural Magazine) Before I left for Swan Dive's tour of Japan, I took a break from packing to watch the video of That Thing You Do. It was my fourth time to see it, but once again, I got caught up in the story of a fledgling 60s band riding the crest of their first big hit single, complete with screaming fans, autographs, interviews, radio and television appearances - the whole pop life vigorously lived out in under two hours. While there's some basic differences - the wide-eyed innocence of 1964 is a far cry from 1997, and Swan Dive isn't the first band I've been in - our tour of Japan certainly had a lot of That Thing You Do moments. The following is from notes I kept during our trip. October 22, 1997: The Air Necessities The flight from Nashville to Tokyo, counting a layover in Detroit, is nearly 16 1/2 hours. Molly and I talk about how excited we are to arrive, to perform, to see our friends. We read. We fidget. We talk some more. We watch movies. It's impossible for me to sleep on the plane. I can't find a comfortable position. Molly has the window seat, so at least she can rest her head to the side. After the end of the third movie, Breakdown, with Kurt Russell, I close my eyes for an hour or two, pretending to be asleep. Then the captain announces, "Ladies and gentlemen, we've begun our descent into Tokyo Narita airport." We arrive, get though customs and meet our party at the gate. Yoshi, our friend and manager, is accompanied by Toshi and Chika, who work for the concert promotion company handling the tour. Introductions all around. After an hour and a half drive to the Tobu Hotel in Shibuya, we check in, get freshened up and then we're off to a party to celebrate the release of our new CD, Wintergreen. It's wonderful to see all the friendly faces of the Tristar Records gang again. They applaud as we enter the cafe, then for the next two hours we talk, laugh and eat, until finally Molly and I can barely keep our eyes open. Back to the hotel. October 23, 1997: Questions & Answers I wake up to what sounds like children screaming outside the hotel room window. Then I remember the blackbirds. Tokyo has these mutant super crows that swoop through the morning air, cawing in thick, throaty calls. They're straight out of Edgar Allan Poe. Today is the first of five days of heavy promotion preceding the live shows. We have an average of eight interviews per day, interspersed with radio performances and TV appearances. Coming from Nashville, where we might do one interview a year, this is media overload. And I love it! As a magazine writer myself, I'm impressed by the music journalists we meet. They know their facts and more importantly, they've listened to our record. That may sound like a redundant compliment, but believe me, in America these days, journalists don't seem to care enough to do that basic bit of homework. Moreover, the Japanese journalists are passionate music fans. They know their pop history. They're enthusiastic about records and bands and rare B-sides. Of course, after two days of interviews, some repetition creeps into their questions. The most popular ones: "How is it for Swan Dive coming from Nashville, a town known mainly for country music?" and "What's it like working with the producer Brad Jones?" We try to vary our answers. Each interview is followed by a photo session. This is slightly daunting for me. I've come to terms with the fact that I'm not a matinee idol. Mostly, I just try to smile and keep my eyes open. I do have some nifty thrift store suits to wear, so at least my clothes will look cool. When Molly and I need to relax in front of the camera, we play a word association game called George Washington Carver. One person says the name of a celebrity or well-known person - Richard Dreyfuss, for example. Then the next person has to respond with a related name - say, Richard Nixon or Julia Louis Dreyfus. It sets us at ease and always amuses the photographers. October 25, 1997: Singles Going Steady! A That Thing You Do moment. I hear "Groovy Tuesday" on the radio! Our single is racing up the carts on radio stations all over Japan. We're sharing some rarified air with the likes of Boyz II Men, Oasis, Janet Jackson and The Rolling Stones. Incredible! It feels like even more of a coup because our song is basically a dressed up demo. A lot of it was recorded in my apartment with cheapo mikes. So much for modern technology. --- Tokyo is a girl watcher's paradise. For a closet ogler such as myself, I find that no matter where I turn my gaze, there's a lovely young woman. All of them are so lithe, graceful and demure, with shimmery hair, smooth complexions and stylish clothing. The sidewalks are catwalks here. I'm falling in love every two minutes. --- Another busy day. Kyo wa totemmo isogashii desu. At one of the photo sessions, we're outside in a park. Molly is recreating the giant 12-foot woman from our video for "The Day That I Went Home." With her pink flamingo hat and long spindly arms (actually cardboard poles with mannequin hands attached), she's drawing more than a few curious stares from passers by. --- Molly has her own make-up and hair person, Kato-san. He's always got his eye on her, looking for a spot that needs touching up or a renegade strand of hair. It's fun to watch. October 26, 1997: Ogenki desu ka? Prior to this trip, Molly and I had taken a few months of Japanese language classes. I think out of respect for the people we've met, many of whom can speak our native language fluently, we wanted to at least make an effort to learn theirs. We know some basic phrases and we can ask questions such as "Tokyo eki wa doko desu ka?" and "Ima nan ji desu ka?" But our tiny bit of knowledge sure comes in handy today. We film segments for a TV show, Music Bazar, first at an amusement park, then at a traditional Japanese restaurant. We have to read many long, unfamiliar Japanese phrases from cue cards, and I'm grateful that we have a fundamental grasp of pronunciation, so at least we don't sound like total rubes. --- I like the taxi drivers in Tokyo. They are men of quiet decorum. With white cloth gloves, they grip the wheel at 10 and 2 O' clock. Their eyes are fixed on the puzzle of threading their small vehicles through the maze of Tokyo streets. What a nice change from New York cabbies. --- The hectic pace, coupled with the fact that I feel like I haven't eaten a substantial meal since I've been here, is taking its toll. I'm exhausted, with a slight tickle in my throat. I've probably talked more in the past few days than I have the whole year! Our first show is tomorrow, so I don't want to even think about getting sick. I can't, I won't. October 27, 1997: Stormy Monday The morning of our opening night and my voice has disappeared. Knowing how healthy I've been for the past year and a half, this is incredible to me, some kind of cosmic joke. I'm panicking. I'm hoping that herbal tea, lemons, hydrogen peroxide and lozengers will pull me through. --- Unfortunately, they don't. The first show, while not a disaster, is pretty rough. It shakes my confidence. My voice holds out for about three songs, then it's gone. I screw up big time in "Groovy Tuesday," forgetting the modulation in the final chorus. Yikes! Afterwards, our friends from the press and the label are kind, but I want to crawl off and hide somewhere. I think of the scene in That Thing You Do where The Wonders' first big show is a mass of feedback and dropped instruments. I need to sleep. October 28, 1997: Groovy Tuesday I'm feeling a little better. Breakfast in Japan is an adjustment. At home, it's usually my most elaborate meal. I'll alternate between mushroom and green pepper omelettes, scrambled tofu, fresh fruit shakes, english muffins and muesli. After a few days of soba noodles and then some crullers and coffee from Mr. Donut, I'm nostalgic for my own cooking. --- I get a boost from a magical Chinese elixir with herbs and royal jelly (thanks Yoshi!) and it helps make our second show at Tokyo's Club Quattro everything the first wasn't. We revamp the set list slightly, leaving out a few songs that I might not be able to sing. Though my voice is only about 65% there, we sound really good, relaxed. "Free," "The Day That I Went Home" and "Words" all get a loud response. Halfway into the set we do "Benny's Grave," a song from our first record. In a single white spotlight, Molly plays solo clarinet over the slow waltz intro, then as the tempo leaps into a swing groove, the lights come up on Mike and I, wearing skeleton masks. It's our little way of celebrating Halloween and the audience really digs it. Ever since I started playing guitar in high school, I've dreamed of the day when I could say on stage, "This is our brand new single." I finally got to say it! "This is our brand new single, 'Groovy Tuesday.'" Everyone cheered. What a wonderful feeling. After our encores, Molly and I walked along the front of the stage, sahking hands with some of our fans. Kids were actually shouting our names, reaching out for us. What an incredible rush. I think of the main character's line in That Thing You Do: "I am Spartacus." Then, immediately after the show, Molly, Mike and I skip protocol and go out into the lobby to meet our fans. We're instantly mobbed by girls wanting autographs and photos! In the months to come, whenever I'm feeling down or having a bout with the blues, I'll remember these moments. Backstage, we receieve a long line of friends, fans, journalists and other music business folks. Everyone is warm and so kind, giving us gifts and high praise. We even meet the head CEO of Sony, who has flown in from Hong Kong especially for our show. What an honor! October 29, 1997: The Man, The Train A word about our manager Yoshi Nagato. I'll be eternally grateful to him, because he was the first person who really believed in Swan Dive enough to go to the record labels with our music. Where other people in the business heard something that was stylistically hard to categorize or difficult to format, Yoshi heard music that he thought was great, and that was enough for him. During our tour, Yoshi takes care of everything. His energy knows no bounds. When I picture him, he's in motion, walking the Tokyo streets at a fast clip, running ahead to find about train schedules, sorting out last minute details, always with a positive attitude. He's a remarkable guy, and also possessor of one of the most knowledgable and passionate minds about pop music I've ever encountered. I feel fortunate to know him. --- We ride the bullet train, or Shinkansen, to Nagoya. As it's name implies, it's sleek, fast and clean. I doze, but catch some of the night scenery flashing by the windows. No open space, but one continuous cityscape, lit up white, red, yellow and blue. There's more leg room than a jet airplane. A dapper little guy in a brown-and-white checked uniform wheels a refreshment cart through every twenty minutes or so. October 30, 1997: Nagoya! Somehow I thought Nagoya would appear much smaller than Tokyo, but the cab ride is another trip through a shimmering gauntlet of bright storefronts and neon lights that seem to stretch for miles in every direction. --- Staff Gang, the company that's putting on our concerts, is doing an amazing job. All details are attended to - the sound systems are clear and powerful, and the lights, especially in Tokyo, reflect the changing moods of the songs in our set. Again, this is all such a step up for us, because in Nashville, a lot of the clubs have crappy P.A.'s and the light show consists of a few washed out spots that stay on at the same intensity for the whole set. And I could certainly get used to having my guitar tuned and set up before every performance. --- The crowd in Nagoya is reserved, but appreciative. After the enthusiasm of the Tokyo audience, it's a little off-putting at first. But we're told that the character of the Nagoya residents is very shy and diffident. October 31, 1997: Trick Or Treat! During our final show in Osaka, we find the relaxed groove that's been missing. My throat is clear, so I can sing unimpeded at last, which restores my confidence. Mike walks on stage in a white policeman's helmet, waving one of those red-tipped flashlights that looks like a miniature version of a Star Wars light sabre. During the night, he breaks into unannounced James Brown dances. He's hilarious. Molly has learned some Osaka slang - "Mo karimaka?" "Bochi bochi de na," and "Okini" - and the audience eats it up. The mix is perfect. We sail through the set. We add a third encore, "Let 'Em In," by McCartney & Wings. This is how it should be. November 1-4: Our Days Off My first day off I devote to shopping. It's a holiday in Japan, so the Shibuya streets are teeming with shoppers, couples and families out enjoying the day. I find a store called Time Is On, which has 60s style British straight leg trousers and very smart shirts and sweaters. The prices are high, especially for a thrift store shopper such as myself, but the fashions and selection are too good to pass up. Next I hit the record stores, Tower, HMV, Recofan and a whole slew of upstairs specialty shops. I buy a bunch of Italian movie soundtrack compilations, a Ben Folds 5 live bootleg and some 60s British invasion stuff that's impossible to find in the states. At the end of the day, I return to the hotel, loaded down with bags, like a Christmas shopper in New York City. --- If I had to pick one thing about our whole experience in Japan that overwhelms me the most, it would be the Swan Dive displays in the record stores. In the U.S., we are a regional act with a small following in our hometown, Nashville.. But here in Japan, we're given the full star treatment with our likenesses in styrofoam and cardboard right next to international acts such as Mariah Carey, Stereolab, Oasis and Hanson. In HMV, there's a beautiful end rack display with a listening station devoted to Wintergreen. I can't help but hang around, watching customers slip on the headphones as they check out our CD. It makes me so proud, especially when someone carries one off to the register. --- It's time to return to Nashville. I don't want to go back, but I have a feeling that this is only the beginning for Swan Dive. There's been some talk of releasing our next record internationally, through Europe and Asia. Suddenly, I realize that we're going to have a career.