I caught Kevin as I was approaching the entrance of the Songbyrd and he was quietly sneaking out to pick up some dinner. The crowds and quick turnaround after shows can make it difficult to connect with artists on showdays, so I selfishly try to take my chances beforehand. I introduced myself, and he said with a smile that he was expecting me. I felt bad; I had accidentally started a small train of concert-goers that recognized him outside of the venue. He graciously took a moment with each one before darting off, and I slipped inside to hear Frances Whitney serenade the crowd.
I first met Kevin outside of his show at the Omeara in London in 2019. We spoke briefly as I stood in a line of a couple dozen fans. I mentioned my music podcast to him and moments later the long line behind me gasped as James Bay gave Kevin a goodbye hug and brushed past.
As a student journalist and the most active contributing writer for the Arts Section of The Daily at UW, I was tasked with creating the first music show for the fledgling Podcast Section. I learned some really important lessons, the main being that the worst someone can do is say no. I did some really cool stuff including interview Kevin before a show on his tour with Banks.
This was the biggest interview that I had done at the time. I was nervous. I might’ve been late. I asked some decent questions and some really stupid ones. I made him do a segment called “Kevin Garrett or Kevin Garnett” where I read him a collection of his own song lyrics and quotes from former NBA superstar Kevin Garnett, quizzing him on who said what. While initially reserved, Kevin was incredibly gracious and courteous and charming. We spent over an hour together, chatting loads before and after the interview. He told me about all of the one-off guitars in his new favorite music store by Pike Place and his desire to go to a Mariners game next time he was in town. The Showbox SoDo, where he’d be playing later that evening, sat in the shadow of T-Mobile Park. He even gave me his cell number at the end.
None of this extraneous conversation was recorded of course; you remember these things when meeting one of your favorite artists. None of anything we said that day was recorded at all actually, even what was supposed to be a 30-minute podcast. I was so jittery and amateurish that I never did a soundcheck. Kevin’s soft voice competed with the coffee shop’s background music, and my cheap microphone was confused into impotence.
The audio was irrecoverable. For years, I never reached back out to Kevin or his PR team. While I learned from the experience, I remained somewhat embarrassed. When I finally had the chance to see him again after five years, I jumped at the opportunity for redemption. I connected with his team and asked to photograph the show. While the photos are all good and well, the concert was more than the slides I have posted here and on Instagram.
Kevin’s songwriting is some of the best in the game. He has been recognized as a collaborator by the likes of Lennon Stella, Banks, and the Queen Bey herself. While the podcast is gone, there is one quote from Kevin while discussing his creative habits that will stick with me forever:
“I write for myself. I make music for others.”
As a young writer constantly contending with the value of my piled pocket-notebooks filled with scribbles and untethered thoughts, this simple statement felt incredibly profound. Once you’re a writer, it’s nearly impossible to shut off. There’s no use in fighting it, but it can be difficult distinguishing between writing to lift the heavy words from your conscience and writing to connect with others.
It’s funny and a bit strange hearing Kevin on stage talk about criticisms he received from songwriting professors in college as he tunes for "It Don't Bother Me At All” or “Coloring.” His ability to bake layers of vulnerability into addictive melodies is second to none. It makes it apparent that this is Kevin’s calling, and it is hard to imagine a music industry that he doesn’t fit into.
Yet, like many artists, Kevin has expressed frustrations with the challenges of the industry. Countless talented artists struggle to navigate relations with record labels and predatory streaming services. While there are more ways to market your music than ever before, monetizing it can be a different story. I imagine that Kevin has run into many of these hurdles, but I cannot emphasize enough how important it is to have people like Kevin in music. He is one of the most relatable, accessible, and genuine artists in the game. There are few that take more time to interact with their fans, and he consistently brings refreshing transparency to the stage. In a world, and especially a music industry, that is played out largely online, his willingness to connect in person with those that care about his work is irreplaceable.
It is a simple concept: when you see others openly embracing their calling, it makes it easier to pursue your own. Kevin makes music more human and concerts more pleasant. I’m at the end here, and I haven’t even mentioned his voice, which is one of the best I’ve heard live. I will go see Kevin perform every time I get the chance, and I will always be grateful for our nonexistent podcast and the grace he’s shown over the years. It makes mistakes feel less harsh and picking up much easier.
