[Editor’s note: Last year we introduced you to Irish alt-country singer-songwriter Podge Lane via an essay + premiere and essay + session. In addition to releasing his studio album Multiple Dead Ends in August, the songwriter also released a live album, How You Make Noise When Nobody’s Watching (Live At The Green Note), in November. The set features songs from Multiple Dead Ends as well as his two previous albums, 2021’s Outer Monologues and 2023’s Common Country Misconceptions.
In a press release, Podge states “After finishing the recording of my third Album, I wanted to cap off my first trilogy of records in a special way. So I got the idea to record a full live show, featuring songs from all the albums, as a nice little send off to that era. It’s very personal and intimate so it felt right to have it in the Green Note, a venue I used to watch iPhone videos of when I first got into music, dreaming I could play there like some of my heroes. So here we are, 15 songs, lots of stories, three albums all tied up in a show that’s part concert, part acoustic session, part terrible comedy special, and all Podge Lane. Whether you like it or not.”
Today Lane is back with us to share another essay, this time explaining his affinity for live music and albums.]
Not one to rest, Podge Lane is capping off an exiting year that included the Sad But Tourable UK and Ireland shows, and the release of his third LP “Multiple Dead Ends”, heralded as “a sonic reinvention that propels his music into uncharted territory” (Grateful Web) and “a 12-track exploration of self-doubt, anxiety, and the fear of ageing, drawing comparisons to musical greats like John Prine and Jimmy Buffett.” (Maverick Magazine).
I’m an odd fellow. Not by design. I’m the guy who doesn’t know whether to say “Hi” or “Hello”, panics, and hits you with some Frankenstein’s combination of the words that comes out “HOI!”
I’m always nervous in crowds. I don’t like public speaking. So why does all that go out the window when I’m performing live? This isn’t rhetorical, I’m genuinely asking. When I watch a live performance everything else in the world drops out. I didn’t grow up in a place where Wilco or Dawes would be dropping by casually, so my introduction to live music was through CDs and YouTube. The first live album I ever fell in love with was Johnny Cash’s Live at San Quentin and it’s still my favorite album to this day. The songs, the stories, the jokes, the mistakes. To me, a live album isn’t just a performance, it’s a way of seeing exactly who made the albums and songs I love so much. That connection found in live performances has stuck with me throughout my journey as a music fan and as an artist.
Exploring live albums, I could find out how these artists sounded live, how they controlled a crowd and if they had a sense of humour. Humour has always been very important to me. Listening to Live At San Quentin, Johnny never feels above the audience or even that he’s taking himself too seriously. When an audience member heckles him, Johnny replies “Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you, I was talking.” If Johnny felt precious about the almighty line between performer and audience, he might have left this interaction on the cutting room floor, but keeping it in the album shows a genuine moment of laughter, connection and a good ol’ fashioned ribbing.
After listening to every live album I could find, I moved onto watching terrible phone recordings of live shows. I mean these had to be the grainiest and shakiest quality videos, but that didn’t matter. These were the unpolished performances that I studied for every detail. These were the in-between performances where lines were forgotten, stories went on too long and it all felt special. Once I got to the age I could travel to see these acts live, I realized this is what live shows were like normally. But as a kid, I felt like I found a secret world with these iPhone recordings.
Having sifted through hours of YouTube, I discovered that the best videos were the more intimate shows. Seeing the big acts I was so inspired by like Johnny Flynn, Mick Flannery and Colin Hay playing in smaller venues, it felt so close. I promised I would play one of these venues, and even better record a live album there. Following on from three albums, countless tours and way too many coffees later, I finally did [with] How You Make Noise When Nobody’s Watching (Live At The Green Note).
Why make noise when nobody’s watching? Because that’s what I feel like when I’m playing live. It’s the space where the nerves of crowds drift away and I come alive playing music. It feels intimate, almost like I’m playing for nobody. Only myself. I’ve played shows in front of audiences filled with everybody, and nobody, and that’s helped me understand that there’s no difference in the performance if you’re doing it right. I want people to feel like I’m singing and joking just to them, that they are seeing behind the person who wrote the music. I can’t say if I fail or succeed every time, but I can say I give it my absolute all. So maybe some kid can go on YouTube, search live shows, stumble across mine, and find a guy who also says ‘hoi’ come alive through music!
Contributor
Podge is an New York City-based, Ireland native, alt-country, singer-songwriter and avid hyphen collector (a joke Podge usually makes on stage about all the hyphen references he gets such as singer-songwriter)
