Editor’s Note Last month SWT introduced you to Canadian singer/songwriter Josh Ritchie via a Singles Spotlight feature on his fantastic song “September Talks”. The song is featured on his third LP So Much More Than a Dream, which was released on Oct. 17 via Merilainen Music Inc. According to a press release, it is a “concept album telling the story of a young adult searching for peace and purpose in our increasingly turbulent world, a theme that reflects much of Ritchie’s life to this point, having grown up BIPOC in rural northern Ontario.”
You can watch the music video for his single “September Talks”:
In this essay, Ritchie talks about the inspiration behind the single.
Growing up, I was never keen on the arrival of autumn. It always meant the end of the best things in my life and the beginning of the worst. Soccer season, beach days and cottage weekends would be replaced with school, routines and eventually snow. So every year, come the end of August, a tiny pit of dread would form in the depths of my mind. I wanted to both squeeze every last drop out of the summer that remained and deny the looming arrival of the dreaded back-to-school song and dance. As I got older, I began to hate school much less as my dreams of soccer stardom morphed into a love of music and writing. The change in the seasons meant less disruption to my life. But without fail that tiny pit of dread would return year after year. However fleeting, that existential fear of the end of summer is a part of me. It is this very anecdote that became the foundation for this song “September Talks.” In this track I take that same feeling but apply it to life at large. Instead of the end of summer scaring us maybe it’s the end of a relationship, maybe it’s the end of a career, or maybe it’s the end of our own lives. That complex combination of fearing the future, resenting the present, and clinging to the past boils down into three musical motifs that are “September Talks.”
The first section of the song features a long build on a repeated musical theme with verses dispersed throughout. Lyrically, I drew a lot of inspiration from the scenes that would spark my seasonal dread as a kid to set the scene. The inception of the first lyric came to me one morning when I had to get up at a frankly uncivilized hour in order to get to a gig on time. I can’t remember specifically what time it was but it somehow managed to feel too late at night and too early in the morning for anyone to be doing anything. It would have been a perfectly unmemorable morning drive except the moon which was still fairly high in the sky was red and it cast this strange, uneasy light over the morning. This was literally the red morning quoted in the lyric. Musically, I wanted to very slowly build tension throughout the section. I do this by layering various repeated musical ideas all with a slightly different interpretation of my pre-established groove. This blurs the lines of the song’s musical pulse and quietly builds intensity. And that’s exactly what the first section is supposed to do: set the scene and the emotional stakes. It’s the calm before the storm, the beginning of the end.
The second section is the shortest and simplest. This is the very moment we have been dreading. The arrangement is very simple, a lone guitar playing the changes and a small vocal ensemble singing lyrics that read almost like a plea to the uncontrollable to be kind. This section is a surrender to the laws of fate; whatever happens next is out of our hands. This part of the song was literally brought to life by Bella Brough, the amazing photographer responsible for all the photos for this single and subsequent album. When shooting for the album cover she managed to catch actual bolts of lighting in the background. The results ended up being a perfect manifestation of what this section of the song is supposed to feel like. A silent crack of lightning and the moment before the roaring thunderclap.
Which brings us to the third section. We’ve had the calm, now it’s time for the storm. This section features one of the most dense arrangements I’ve ever constructed. It features a rhythm section, three guitar parts all double-tracked, a Hammond B3-style organ, piano, a pipe organ and a choir. Not only does this wall of sound move a lot of air, but it also supports the guitar solo, which takes over as the narrative focal point. I have perhaps never relied on a solo to carry a song quite as much as this. I was very nervous about it, to be honest. I’ve always struggled with my identity as a guitar player. I often don’t let my musical sensibilities drive my playing. I usually try to be too flashy or clever. I didn’t want that for this solo. So I actually shut off my guitar-player brain, ignored the voices in my head of YouTube guitar teachers judging me for my pentatonic licks and played what I would sing. I did about four takes and you’re hearing two of them comped together in the final product.
This brings us to the end of the track. Now, most songs about something so existentially terrifying about the inevitability of the collective end of all things might try to end in a more uplifting note. Maybe preach something about letting go, enjoying the ride or making the most of things while they last. This isn’t that song however. September Talks is just one moment in a greater story that is my album So Much More Than a Dream. The happy ending, the uplifting turn — that comes later. “September Talks” is pure introspection. A way to process things that are difficult to process. It’s an open-ended admission of my fears and vulnerabilities. Writing it made those fears and vulnerabilities feel smaller. Who knows? Maybe listening to it will do the same for you.
Josh Ritchie
Contributor
Josh is a Canadian singer-songwriter
