Thank you.

To my mother who, though arguably insane, I love and survived my teenage years – thank you.

To those whom were like mothers to me, you didn’t have to be there, but you were – thank you.

To those whom I knew romantically, it ended in tears, but for the other countless days of being loved by you – thank you.

To those whom I know as friends, you’ve taught me how to dress right, talk and act around women without sounding like a total caveman – thank you.

To those whom I know as friends that either you or myself has tried moving to be more than friends, awkward moment aside, you’re still a dear friend – thank you.

To love and be loved,
-Rod Kim

Download for free: 

download: Christmas Don't Be Late (The Chipmunk Song) (3.05MB) added: 18/12/2011 clicks: 131 description: Pulled from the vault, a lofi recording from 2007, years before Rod Kim's whirlwind tour and EP "All About You".

Then I got scared…really scared.

I had no steady paycheck and the little money I did make from my gigs was filling my gas tank.  I was sleeping in my car at a rest stop somewhere in Alabama because the band I was touring with couldn’t take me in to travel with them and I was on my own for places to stay.  They couldn’t afford to pay me, but I had to find an audience.  Literally each CD I sold was either a gallon of gas or a small meal and I am so grateful for each person that came to that merch table and got a CD or poster.  I wasn’t always sleeping in my car though, there were many kind friends that took me in and let me crash their couch…and one stranger.

After the southern leg of my tour, I headed to my alma mater’s radio station, 88.5FM WGRN, for an interview about my recent placement in the videogame “Rock Band”.  When the interview was over, I went with the program director, Derick, to have dinner with a group of his friends.  That’s where I met Paxton, Marty, Tyler, Rachel and Ben.  My plan was to find a hotel that night, but Paxton’s roommate had just moved out and he offered me the vacant bed.  Paxton was a complete stranger to me (and I to him) but he took the chance of housing an itinerant musician anyway.  I was still scared – scared about whether I would eat the next day, if I had enough fuel in my car to make it to the next city, being alone for months…and about staying the night with a complete stranger.  We stayed up the entire night talking.  It turned out we had a lot in common and I told him about how afraid I was.   By the time the sun was rising, Paxton had not only encouraged me to be brave, but pointed out how this was an incredible opportunity that not everyone got a chance at.  I was in the middle of writing and rewriting a song that had been in the works for months and finished it in my head that night.  That song would become “This Time (It’s All About You)” – an anthem about making it the last time one would be afraid of whatever was in their way.

I hung out with that group of friends until I had to move on to the next city; their kindness and Paxton’s words were what kept me driving.  I am so thankful.

I carried on to play bigger shows, crossed the country three times from New York to Los Angeles and was actually making a living in music.  I had recorded a couple of singles with veteran producer Ritchie Rubini, but had no immediate plans to release a CD.  After the first two songs, “By Now (Radio Version)” and “Tomorrow She’s Mine” did well, I sent Ritchie a demo of the latest revision of “This Time (It’s All About You)” and he told me to come back east so we could record.  Some other tracks were in the works as well – a rework of “Coming Home” with my friend Joel and a controversial treatment of “She’s Running” with my friend Jesse.  These songs were among dozens I’d written that year but these were the ones that had sparked public interest in one way or another.  After a few meetings and email exchanges, it was decided that a CD would be released in the fall.

Over the summer, the various songs were being recorded and/or polished.  The last day in the studio, I came to Ritchie with a song I’d written the night before.  There wasn’t time to arrange a band, a string section or a big production, but we felt this could be an intimate moment to close the record.  So we fired up the microphones and I sat down at the studio’s grand piano to lay down the song “Awkward Goodbye”.  As I hit the last chord of the last song we were tracking, a roar of thunder rumbled through the otherwise soundproof building.  I could see Ritchie on the other side of the glass making the hand signals to not make a move, so we lingered there in that moment.  It was kind of my sign from the Man Upstairs that it was done.  That moment is still at the end of the record, you just have to wait and listen for it.

“All About You” released in September exclusively through Best Buy Stores nationwide.  The CD release event was held at the Best Buy store near the town I grew up in; Dustin, Ben, Nich and all the staff there were incredibly welcoming.  I continued to tour and promote my new CD, my song on Rock Band, my singles on iTunes, my songs on the radio and to keep writing and networking with fellow musicians.  The CD did so well that a special collector’s edition was eventually released on vinyl with two extra tracks. I even got to return to familiar territory a few times at events like DBMC 2010 organized by my friend Vikki (who booked my first gigs a couple years before).  To say events hosted by Vikki are epic would be an understatement.  They are beyond amazing, and so was DBMC 2010. After the conference, I played a lot more shows, did a lot more radio promotion and a lot more newspaper/magazine interviews.   Things were good and I wasn’t scared anymore.

If it wasn’t obvious before, let me make it clear that I did A LOT of driving.  I drove nearly 70,000 miles in 2010 and that’s a lot of time to be alone with your thoughts.  Though things were well, and I was living the dream so many artists only hoped for, I was doing it alone.  For every hour I gigged, I drove an average of 12-19 hours.  This disproportionate about of time alone in a moving vehicle took some of my social graces from me and made me into someone I didn’t like.  I remember the moment I realized this.  I was in New York and getting ready for a writing session.  A good friend was going through a tough time and I actually made it worse.  Not only could I not do anything to help…I actually made it worse.  With only two months left in the tour, I retreated back to Delaware to get my head back in order.

I met a good friend, Mark, at a diner near the Pennsylvania/Delaware border to get omelets and catch up.  He helped me get put back together and encouraged me to finish what I had started.  I was still a little shaken, but caught my flight to Los Angeles anyway.  There was more music business to take care of there and I was meeting my friends Josh and Angie.  I also ran into a good friend and successful music publisher, Rob.  Funny thing about Rob is that he and I ran into each other several times over the course of the year and always in a different city.  In every city, he’d see the determination in my eyes and was happy for what I had accomplished.  We were both busy and didn’t have a lot of time to chat but knew we’d see each other in a week at a conference on the other side of the country.  Before I left Los Angeles, I had dinner with Josh near the airport and opened up about who I’d become and how much I hated it.  Josh knew me before all of this and had few, but meaningful, words for me before I continued my tour.  Things were looking up again and I continued to work on the person I wanted to become.

A week later, I ran into Rob in Pennsylvania and two other publisher friends of his, Paula and Sherri.  This is a group I always look forward to hanging out with.  Amongst all the music business, we laughed a lot and had a great time exchanging stories before I headed out for the last few weeks of my tour.

“Tour 2010” ended at the same venue it began and was a bittersweet evening.  It really happened – a year on the road, taking risks, being afraid, being brave, making music, making new friends, reconnecting with old friends and learning a lot about myself.  I moved back to Delaware and the first thing I did when I found a house to move into was set up my bed and my record player.  I cannot describe in any vocabulary how incredible it feels to sleep in your own bed after being on the move for over a year.  For weeks, all I did was sleep and listen to records.  It’s good to be home.

Over 300 gigs, radio interviews, newspaper/magazine interviews, television appearances, a song in the hit video game “Rock Band”, all of my songs on Pandora Internet Radio, an exclusive CD at Best Buy Stores and a thousand more stories all happened in one short year.  I still can’t believe it myself, and there are too many names to thank and more stories than I could share, but know that I am forever grateful.  And the reality is that it’s not even over.  Every day this music thing continues and I still get scared, I’m still working on becoming a better person and always trying to do the right thing no matter what.  But one thing I am certain of and share with anyone reading this – no matter what your aspirations may be or what makes you come alive, never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever give up.

Love you all more than you will ever know,

-Rod

P.S. Watch this: (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wiir9MTHzFY)

Love is a battlefield.

Love is just a game.

Love is a mix tape.

Love is a zero score in tennis.

Some people search the ends of the earth for love and others give up, hands thrown in the air and hearts dropped to the ground.  It’s true, I’ve been both and so far, this heart is still searching – writing songs of broken spirits and traveling thousands of miles trying to find a home.  Nearly every cliché about love is true at different times to different people.  I know I can claim at least a dozen of them.   But that’s not the point of this story.

Earlier this year, a close friend was attempting to build a collection of vinyl records and assemble a stereo system worthy of the timeless medium.  He had some albums from his past, some contributions from  friends and others he hoped to eventually acquire.  Over the summer he found a handsome set of vintage speakers, a well-aged receiver and a couple of turntables that for one reason or another, just did not work.  One was imbalanced and wouldn’t play the records correctly half the time, another would not spin at all and attempts to repair these just led to frustration and disappointment.  The search for a working turntable continued through the fall.  The easy answer would have been to spend a lot of money for a coldly manufactured plastic turntable meant more for DJs scratching the latest club hits than nostalgic twentysomethings.  There were several occasions that this temptation seemed like a quick solution for another failed day of searching.

While my buddy continued his college life in southern Illinois, I was on tour through the country and made sure to stop in every pawn shop, local record store, thrift store and yard sale I passed with an eye on a working turntable.  All the while, my friend was still building an epic record collection.  There was a record store in Dallas that I walked into and saw half a dozen beautiful and genuinely vintage turntables lined up on a counter over crates of old vinyls.  I asked the owner how much she wanted for one of them and she quickly replied, “Oh, those aren’t for sale, they belong here – for patrons to listen to records on while they’re browsing.”  I explained the long journey leading here and my desperation.  She simply replied, “You’ll find one that belongs to you, and when you do, it’ll feel like she chose you.”  In growing frustration, I brushed off the statement as cheap and overly poetic rhetoric.

Later that day, I was in Tyler, TX and at a local pawn shop, disappointed yet again.  I was passing back through southern Illinois in a couple of days and would still be empty handed.  All I could think about was those records, all those songs we knew and loved, but remained unplayed and collecting dust.  Before I left the pawn shop I thanked the clerk and commented on how difficult this was.  He agreed and said, “Yeah, too bad you’re in Tyler, because my mom lives Illinois and has an old record player she never uses that’s in great shape.”  I stepped back into the store and continued the conversation to find that the clerk’s mother not only owned a working turntable she was willing to sell, but also lived in a small town in Illinois that was on the way to where my friend lived.

A couple of weeks later, the southern leg of my tour was wrapping up and I was on my way from Texas to Illinois.  I stopped on the way to pick up the turntable and take it to my buddy’s dorm.  We hooked it up and laid that needle down on 180 gram vinyl.  That song never sounded sweeter.  Not only did it work, but this turntable sounded even better than the previous ones in their temporary phases of functioning.  The lady at the record store was right – we were the ones searching, but in the end, it felt like it found us. The next few nights were spent lounging in that dorm room listening to our favorite records – all those songs that were waiting to be played could finally be heard.

That was weeks ago and I’m still on the road, still searching, still hoping.  There’s this life I want to share, these words I want to say and songs I want to write…but for now it’ll have to wait.  Love is a turntable…at least I’ve got the albums.

I’m sure the same is said about me both ways. Actually, I know it is. But that’s great, at least there’s passion in the opinions. The worst thing would be to create art and have it be so mundane that it doesn’t even leave a dent good or bad.

So whether you are the creative type or not, when you feel that muse tugging at your heart to express in song, painting, sculpting, poetry, etc., go for it and don’t let your inhibitions or insecurities hold you back. Let people hate you, love you and wonder about you. And if the muse is calling hard enough, pack your car and leave on a yearlong road trip playing songs for strangers across the country selling CD’s out of a suitcase.

Much love,
-Rod

At the beginning of this year, I hit the road with a broken, but hopeful, spirit.  Friends I had held close told me that I  ”deserve all the loneliness &  misfortunes” and that I was a terrible person that would “get it back in tenfold”.  What kind of people would say these kinds of things?  I thought my friends would be happy for me, possibly encouraging.  It was, as my dear friend Marc would say, a “momentary setback”…he was right.

Not only were those negative friends in a small minority, those of you who have supported me have been a thousand times more kind and loving than I had ever expected.  You fed me, housed me, came out to my shows, bought CDs, helped me load in/out of gigs, spread the word to all your friends about my latest songs on the radio and didn’t mind when I rolled in at 4am after a gig to crash on your couch.  You thought it was important to show me around Los Angeles, Denver, San Francisco, Birmingham, St. Louis, Philadelphia or whatever city you reside in that I was passing through.  It was great to see the sites, don’t get me wrong, and gigs aside, the best part was seeing you – talking, catching up, making new friends, hearing how your life has been since we last spoke a year, 5 years, 10 years ago!  Let’s keep in touch.

Then there are my new friends.  Oh dear friends, that random meeting and then the long talk over coffee or good playlist…I am so grateful.  The same goes for you.  You trusted a random stranger and fed me, housed me, bought CDs, came to shows, etc.  (Hang in there trooper, it’ll work out…eventually…haha) I hope years and years from now, we are still talking about this year and supporting each other wherever we are.

Driving, oh the driving…15 hours seems like a normal commute now.  I’m just now remembering that’s not normal.  The craziest single drive was after playing Popfest 2010 on the Atlantic Ocean and then having 3 days to drive to the Pacific Ocean.  I had my feet in the sand of the East Coast and then 40-some-odd hours later, I shook my socks out into the beaches of the West Coast.  I drove through deserts without any food, fuel or cell phone signal for over a hundred miles, mountains, incredibly flat plains, snowy blizzards, big cities, small towns and everything in between.

And the music, let’s not forget the music.  I’ve had bad gigs, great gigs, radio interviews, press meetings, writing days and recording sessions.  Music has fed me and put fuel in my car…man, that’s a good feeling.  When I was a music student at Greenville College, Dr. J &  Ani used to tell me, and everyone we met, that we’d see my name in lights someday.  This year, it’s happening nearly every week.  I’m so humbled when I hear folks singing along with my songs at gigs or see lyrics pop up in Twitter or Facebook status updates.  I’ve had Dr. Luke explain Ke$ha and what was going on in his head while he was writing and recording TiK ToK.  My friend, Chris Trapper, and I finally got to play a show together (and started planning more).  There are literally hundreds of incredible memories that are just as amazing, but too numerous to list.

It has been an incredible year, and I’m only halfway through.

What does the next half of the year hold?  More songs are being recorded, I’m always writing and more gigs are getting booked as we speak.  There’s a few more surprises in store as well.

Tonight, it’s time for a late night playlist and some much welcomed sleep.

G’night friends,

-Rod

Click Here For The Tour 2010 Photo Album.

“…It’s funny, with nearly 2.5 months on the road constantly moving and averaging no more than a couple days in one place, I’m finding things a little differently than I originally expected. I thought that having no home, no “center”, no place to be away from and return to would be the most difficult part of being on the road fulltime. It turns out that not knowing where I will lay my head the next day and relying on music to provide for that has been the most fulfilling. It makes me feel alive and that I’ve finally found a groove to fit into.

Despite the jadedness of the business end of things, the kindness of friends and their incredible hospitality has been amazing. I can’t express how grateful I am and how good it is to finally be alive…”