After years Wrangling the feral melodies CIRCLING ArOund him, Greg Bauman finally tamed HIS beasts.
–And we’re glad he did.
It’s early in the morning.
The sun hasn’t broken the horizon yet. Dawn-light glows in the cozy kitchen of a rustic farm house. Last night’s snow is glinting off the canopy of rural Vermont. Despite the dropping temperatures outside, the home is warm. Inside, a man at the stove preps barista quality espresso. The aroma and the promise of the day ahead beckon the still-sleeping house to life. Groggy musicians emerge from hibernation, overtaking the small, delicate sounds of morning solitude. One-by-one, the kitchen begins to fill with some of the country’s best up and coming songwriters. While they may be staying for the hot breakfast and top notch coffee, they came here to make a record.
Greg Bauman’s record.
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Before there were songwriters in Greg Bauman’s living room, there were only ideas in his head and reluctant chords on his finger tips. A lifelong lover of music, Bauman grew up in a rough Toronto neighborhood to musical parents and siblings.
GB: I remember growing up thinking that everyone’s home-life was the same as mine; Parents playing music, and everyone contributing. As I got a little older, maybe middle school, I realized that my family was pretty unique to those of my friends and class mates.
Bauman started playing guitar at 14 but never felt like a guitarist. Always writing toward a song, but never quite a songwriter. Always mining his passion for music but never fully able to turn his inspirations into creations of his own. While he never gave up on the notion of becoming a songwriter in the vein of his musical icons ––Dylan, Springsteen, Prine ––Greg turned his focus elsewhere.
He worked, got married in his mid twenties, brought two more Baumans into the world. He built a life. He bartended for over a decade, working nights, missing out on evenings with his family, and putting music on the back burner to support his dependents.
Greg experienced joy and success, pain and frustration; What is often referred to as “great songwriting material.”
Life’s path kept winding, leading to a divorce, but setting into motion a turning point: In an effort to regain control of his time and be around his family more, Greg opened a coffee shop. Not only was it a success, but it also allowed Greg an opportunity to welcome music back into his life. They began hosting open mic nights which gained the coffee shop a cult following as an artist’s enclave. These open mic nights would eventually lead to relationships among many of the artists written about by this publication.
Years went by, and the kids became their own people with personalities, interests, and talents. His oldest, Alex, would carry-on the family tradition of picking up an instrument; The piano. Her younger brother, Liam, picked up the guitar… And never put it down.
(Liam Bauman has a burgeoning music career of his own, which you can also read about in the YCR Dispatch)
There’s a beautiful irony in the concept that the very people you’ve encouraged in chasing their passions have grown into people that inspire you to pursue your own hopes and dreams.
And, that’s just what Greg did.
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Despite how naturally music and lyrics seem to flow from Greg, songwriting and performing are not “effortless” for him. Watering flowers that never bloom can feel like a fruitless endeavor. You continue because you feel called to do it. The the act of trying to create something special can be worth the slow pace of progress. That progress —or lack thereof —culminated in the decision to seek help cracking the songwriting code.
Having become a fan of the Grammy Award Winning folk-indie duo, the Milk Carton Kids, Greg enrolled himself in their songwriting school. Sad Songs Summer Camp is set in the Catskill Mountains and brings together songwriters of various skill, achievement, and talent levels to realize their passion for song writing. With a prompt in hand, campers are challenged to craft a tune for the critique of the instructors and, if inclined, to perform for their fellow campers.
GB: I was having a really hard time at the camp. I just couldn’t get anything going, and I started to get really frustrated. I stayed that way until Kenneth [Pattengale, of the Milk Carton Kids] confided in me that writing to a single prompt was a pretty tough task for him too. So, I focused on a song I had started before the camp, and was able to finish enough to perform. Kenneth liked it enough to join me. Liam and Taylor played with me too. It was a really special experience, and it seemed to be the push I had needed. As soon as I got home from the camp there was an almost immediate outpouring of songs. After all the time I spent never really liking anything I worked on, I ended up writing the whole record in just a few days.
Despite his continued frustrations leading up to and during the camp, Greg nurtured the song enough to play it during one of the evening performances.
The song, “Try to Go Back,” also the first single release (June 9, 2023) off his Self-titled LP (July 7, 2023) signaled the end of a creative drought and the beginning of a prodigious writing spell. The song was (is) so good, that Pattengale joined Greg on stage to perform together. The video of that performance plays like the heroic turning point in a movie about an underdog. The beginning of the hero’s journey toward apotheosis (thank you for that word, Adam Randall). Something clicked for Greg during these moments. You can hear it in the audience’s response.
The other element visible in the video is the genuine buy-in and conviction of Greg’s musical family and support system. Also on stage is Liam and Taylor Raynor, Liam’s close friend and multi-instrumentalist. The scene, and later recording process for this record, point to the value of having people encouraging and challenging an artist. Even if only by osmosis.
GB: It was ultimately the encouragement from Liam [Bauman], Alex [Bauman], Taylor [Raynor], and Leon [Majcen] that made the record happen. I wanted to do it but, in hindsight, you see the impact of being pushed by people you trust and admire. There’s so much value in musical vision, and the experience and talent to actually execute that vision. If they hadn’t leaned on me, I don’t think it would have ever become real. Not to mention how difficult it was recording for the first time. Between timing, nerves, arrangement choices, and hearing yourself played back; It’s a totally different experience than sitting by yourself, noodling out songs on an acoustic guitar. That was its own battle, but the guys helped me through it, Ultimately I think it made the record even better.
Since we’ve recorded this record, I understand the process so much better, and it’s both motivating and helpful as I am approaching new material. I’ve written another 12-song record since then. I really can’t wait to start the recording process again. Hopefully this winter and with a few more contributors.
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The record was cut during a week spent in Greg’s farm house in Montpelier, VT, which sounds like every songwriter’s dream scenario. Imagine a group of exceptionally talented musicians, who can play a diverse selection of instruments, and all happen to be very good friends. Hidden away in a snowy cabin with no distractions. Staggering scenery outside, choice recording gear inside, and the host is a world class coffee roaster.
It’s like the beginning of Ocean’s 11, where the characters are each recruited for their own impressive and standalone expertise before coming together to plan and execute the heist. Relationships are deepened, beautiful accidents happen, challenges rise and fall. You laugh —a lot. In the end you’ve achieved something to which many people aspire, but few accomplish. Everyone dedicated to making the record. Everyone with an important part to play. All of this for no other reasons than love, passion, and the shared human experience of expression through music.
Is it luck that delivered Greg a talented son who happened to also have good and talented friends? Spend any time around Greg and you will quickly realize this chosen family is all of his own gravity and making. Like a karma investment reaching maturity, life payed him a dividend for the heart and soul he had put into the world over the last 60 years. That dividend came in the form of an impressive cast of contributors on Bauman’s self-titled debut, including some of the most exciting new voices in Indie, Folk, and Country music in years.
At the helm for this record is the aforementioned (and written about) Liam Bauman. Producer, Guitar-slinger, wiz-kid. Liam performed all the supporting guitar, bass, and percussion, not to mention the harmonies throughout. Liam’s older sister, Alex, also contributed beautifully stirring harmonies and piano on several tracks.
Alongside Liam is another favorite among industry insiders, engineer and producer, Andrew Boullianne. Boullianne is earning a name as one of the most efficient and creative engineers in the country. We’ll be hearing a lot more of his work this year and for years to come.
Multi-instrumentalist, Taylor Raynor, played a vital roll on both the violin and mandolin. Raynor’s playing shaped critically emotive sections of these song arrangements. He is a fantastic string player and has his own indie record in the works that we are excited to cover later this year.
The-man-of-a’million-streams (on Spotify), Leon Majcen, rounded out the studio band and added tasty harmonica parts on several tracks. Majcen is an objectively hot prospect in his own right, having already had a song take-off on Sirius XM and well-received studio releases over the past several years. Leon is a name around which we’re hearing buzz in the Nashville circles that birthed some of the best twangers making Americana and country music today. He, like the rest of this roster, has new work coming out this year. We’ve previewed early cuts and are in genuine anticipation of what he has in the works.
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Bauman and company made a record that feels very personal yet wide open for our own interpretation. The listener can feel a raw emotion from the creator’s lyrics but comfortably fit it to their own needs like a borrowed blanket.
The record opens with “Cold In July,” an unapologetic nod to the late, great, John Prine. The recording sounds so raw and honest that one could be easily convinced Bauman has never heard of John Prine, and the Prine-shine of this tune is simply a coincidence. The 2-minute and 13-second song is imbued with a happy sentiment, yet the song evokes tears as it rolls to a close. We suspect this is why he kept it shorter. It’s sweeter this way and we’re left wanting more. Like the song’s lyrical anecdote, “I got old. [I] didn’t even try” the lyrics elicit an emotional response before you’re conscience of what’s happening.
Greg shines here.
The arrangement is sparse and leaves the songwriter exposed, but Bauman doesn’t shy away. It’s a delicate song but not a fragile one. The band delivers here too. Small contributions make a big impact. All together, it’s a message of self-reflection, kindness, and warmth, written from an (apparently) cold place, but one we want to keep revisiting and staying longer each time.
“Drive” follows the opener. It’s a noir’y melancholic groove that places Bauman on playlists with The War On Drugs, Iron & Wine, Springsteen, and Fleetwood Mac. The song, at least to our interpretation, is an internal dialogue and acknowledgement of painful memories and experiences, and the avoidance we practice to find relief. The running away, or driving off into the open road, to escape the confrontations of our daily lives and past. Again, sounding so personal to the songwriter, but so available and relevant to us as listeners.
“For You” is consumed like a needle-moving hit song that Springsteen wrote while he was making Nebraska, but couldn’t fit it with the rest of the tunes. While it doesn’t sound like The Boss, it does have the same “special something” that those records have, and the same darkly calm and brooding contemplation expressed in an arrangement that feels earthy and familiar. The hook, “I will put this pedal to the ground. Now that I’m the last man in town,” paints a picture of a rural highway, storm in the distance, and a lone traveler with lot on their mind. That traveler would find peace in this song.
“I will put this pedal to the ground.
Now that I’m the last man in town.”
It’s natural to compare ––as praise or critique ––new art to that which preceded it. We tend to describe the new and unknown through the familiar. “Night Came Down” is a song to which we could attribute suspected inspirations but it would be a stretch. This song feels like a tipping point on the record and perfectly placed in the sequence. We see Greg’s creation, and only his creation, without the distraction of considering other artists that may have inspired him. Instead we’re smiling with full attention at this beautiful song, which sounds-like, and is lyrically about, providing safety and comfort through a familial, warn-in, love.
“When you’re balanced on the edge of it. Life’s as sharp as it can be. But, it’s alright. You can fall with me.”
The song hooks with a simple, but deep and well-crafted sentiment: “When you’re balanced on the edge of it. Life’s as sharp as it can be. But it’s alright. You can fall with me.” The song is on right now as this is being written. There are tears welling-up as I end this paragraph.
We move through the heartfelt sentiment of “Night Came Down” and land in the Americana heartland with “Hell on a Fast Horse.” It’s a deliciously dark, remorseful song, bolstered by a heavy piano part and well-apportioned percussion work. The arsenal for this arrangement isn’t novel, but it’s very well executed. The effect on the listener is full-bodied.
This is a Bauman record through and through, but it’s important to reiterate the contributions made by the other players. Raynor really stands out on these last two tracks, with Mandolin on “Night Came Down” and violin in “Hell on a Fast Horse.” That part is especially evocative, it sounds like a devilish antagonist melodically tormenting the lyricist. The parts delivered here add a layer of depth that draw the listener further into Greg’s lyrics.
Next, we hear the first single, “Try To Go Back,” a haunting intro that contemplates the realities of time passing, and the lack of remedy available for invisible wounds. “The train is coming. I can hear it hum. Baby, don’t run.” Greg reminds us of the other reality; We can move forward. We have to.
“The Train is coming. I can hear it hum. Baby, Don’t Run.”
By the time we’ve hit the chorus, the band is fully in and it’s meaty payout for the listener. Resplendent with shimmering guitar, rich, woody drums, and the melodic wink of a xylophone layered in, the song is a pensive rocker. It’s no wonder Bauman chose this to lead off the album release schedule.
While the record is considered short by industry standards it plays like a full movie, or, at least, the soundtrack to one. The audio storyline concludes softly and intimately with “Stumbling,” a stripped down, single guitar and vocal. Greg bares it all for us in what reads (sounds) like a simple but sincere hope for his son: “Where I stumbled you will stand. Do the very best you can. Be a better man.”
It’s a deeply personal, yet universal, message we can all relate to; Wanting life to be better for the people we love than the life we’ve experienced ourselves.
Having personally spent time with Greg in researching this release and article, and getting know all of the talented people profiled in this review, I can tell you that this record is so good and so special because the people that made it are good. They are special.
As a listener, I keep finding new things to love in this record. As a writer and reviewer, I am moved by Greg’s lyrics, and what they tell us about his experiences, regrets, and hopes.
“Where I stumbled you will stand. Do the very best you can. Be a better man.”
As a musical person, myself, who finds community in band-membership, sanity in musical experience, and who relates through songwriting, this record has it all.
Greg Bauman’s self-titled debut is an emotionally arresting album that’s not overdone or overproduced, with pop sensibility peaking through an entrancingly earnest record.
It’s aspirational.
And so is Greg Bauman. ///
Greg Bauman, Self-titled, July 7, 2023
Written by Greg Bauman
Produced by Liam Bauman | Engineered and Co-Produced by Andrew Boullianne