Phil Swann has over thirty years of experience in show business. He’s been a lounge piano player, a commercial songwriter, a novelist, an Off-Broadway composer, and a creative workshop instructor. Phil’s songs have been recorded by Clay Aiken, Neal McCoy, Lee Ann Womack, and Blake Shelton, among others.

Now, for the first time, he’s also a recording artist in his own right.

Phil’s first album, Stale Scotch and Cheap Cigars, features smoky, Dean Martin-era jazz tunes co-written with several of his colleagues, including the legendary Paul Williams. I called Phil in September to talk about Stale Scotch and Cheap Cigars and the man’s many other creative projects. Along the way we talked about cowriting, artistic freedom, and fearless integrity.

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Hi, Phil, this is Nicholas from The Halted Clock; how are ya?

Hi, Nicholas, how are you?

Great. I see you just had your release party for your album.

Yeah, I was in New York doing that and opening a show off-broadway, so it was a busy time.

Walking down 42^nd seeing a poster for Play it Cool must’ve been exciting.

Well, it was especially because back about 150 years ago I lived there as a poor, mostly unemployed musician/songwriter. I don’t know where you’re from, Nicholas, if you know New York City, but I used to live in Hell’s Kitchen when it was truly Hell’s Kitchen. [laughs] Back before they Disneyfied it.

Since then you’ve had quite a career. This new release, Stale Scotch and Cheap Cigars, is your first solo album, so that’s a landmark.

Yeah, I tell folks, it’s an appropriate way of dealing with a midlife crisis. Cheaper than a Lamborghini and a nineteen-year-old girlfriend… I don’t think my wife would like that. Yeah, I’ve been writing songs for other people for… oh my gosh, I signed my first publishing deal in 1992. I’ve really focused on writing songs for other people and producing records and things like that. And the time just felt right; there were some songs in my catalogue, Nick, that I feared would never get heard unless I did them, so I wanted to put them out there. And the other reason—the really honest reason—is that… I just wanted to make a record!

It’s a fine record, I gotta say.

Thank you very much.

Now the title is Stale Scotch and Cheap Cigars and that’s from the track “Middle Man,” actually. That was one of the songs that stuck with me. I see you brought in some friends and cowriters to work with you on this too.

Yeah, there were songs… it was one of those situations, Nick, like I said I had some songs in my catalogue I wanted to record; I wanted to capture a style. And I had some songs I planned to record but as songwriters often do—getting ready for the record and all that—I ended up writing new songs. “Middle Man” I wrote just a couple weeks before recording. That actually replaced one of the songs that first motivated me to cut the record.

There are other songs that I wrote on there with Paul Williams, Greg Barnhill, Mark Winkler, Dave Bassett…songs I’d written over the years. I’ve written with literally hundreds of other writers and these just felt right for the record. They’re terrific, terrific co-writers. And I called and said “Hey, I want to record our song!” And they said “Go for it.”

Those are big names.

Paul Williams, I think he’s still president of ASCAP right now. I’ve written with Paul several times and the first time I wrote with Paul… you know, by the time I wrote with him, I’d written with hundreds of other writers, very famous writers, but Paul was especially… I’m not going to use the word “intimidating”… but it was thrilling. And I was a little nervous before the writing session, because it was Paul Williams and I had grown up playing the man’s catalogue, you know? Being a piano player. And like every other musician I’ve done my share of weddings and bar mitzvahs and anniversaries and nightclub gigs. And you know, we’ve all played with “Only Just Begun” and “Rainbow Connection” and “You And Me” and “Into the World” and the list just goes on and on and on. So, it was really fun to write a song with a guy whose catalogue maybe I knew better than he did.

How do you approach cowriting?

I think “Power of Us” on the record is the first song Paul and I wrote together. You just sit around and talk, you know, and you talk about ideas… I’m at the piano, and we just started tossing things out as I’m playing music and this idea came up of a love song that’s bigger than just, you know, an “I love you” kind of thing. We got together at the deli for lunch and then we went back to my office. I think we made that song in about an hour. It was one of those.

Does cowriting add a sense of structure and urgency to the whole thing?

I teach a class at UCLA; I’ve done it for years. And I get asked by young songwriters a lot, you know, “How is cowriting different than writing by yourself? Is it harder? Is it easier?” And I’ve been doing both for so long that it’s often hard for me to say which is easier, which is harder. They both have their pros and cons; cowriting can be fantastic if you’re with someone that you’re really clicking with and it’s someone of good humor and is on fire that day… it can also be Dante’s seventh circle if you’re in the room with the wrong person—and it might not even be their fault! This is not an exact science; there are times when it just doesn’t work. So they both have their pros and cons; um, cowriting session can turn into a costaring session really fast but it certainly makes the process less lonely and by and large I have had mostly good experiences.

I’d been writing long enough that I don’t have many bad experiences; of course everyone has a bad day. Sometimes your cowriter is primarily a performing artist and they’re new to writing. But I think I have the skills now to work with that.

Yeah, over time you must develop the skills to deal with any kind of personality that walks into the room.

You have no idea. [laughs]

I think the longer you’re a songwriter, the nature of this business now is that you’re going to cowrite.

There are very few, unless they’re true writer/artists and that’s the way they define their career—the Paul Simons, the Billy Joels—I’m dating myself now, aren’t I? But the nature of this business if you’re a songwriter is you have to be able to cowrite. It’s almost more of a business requirement than anything. So you have to be able to overcome that. But as you know, in anything, in any business, it’s a team sport; you don’t do it in a vacuum. Healthy people skills are always a plus.

One of the tricks I think you learn as a songwriter is identifying really fast what role you’re going to take in that session, even if you’ve never met the person before. You can find out, okay, are they a stronger melody person, are they a lyricist? What are you needed for in this session; what strengths do you bring, and how do you accentuate theirs?

You can’t get precious with this stuff. I’m preaching that all the time to students. You have to care, you have to believe it, but you can’t hang onto it as the truth. You have to be open to the truth that, guess what? You just might be wrong. Consider that no matter how much you believe it, if the other person says “No, I really think you should do it this way…” try it. It’ll reveal itself quickly enough if their suggestion isn’t right. But you kind of have to let that egotism go, I think, to be successful at this. That goes for making records or any sort of creative endeavor that’s a team sport.

The whole idea is: get the best out of the other person and they just may bring something to the party that you’re not thinking of, and they could be right and it could be brilliant. Be open to that.

You also wrote a novel.

I did. That’s something I’ve wanted to do all my life. I don’t plan for it to be my only novel, either. I’m always jotting things down and writing on things.

Here’s how it came about. In the nineties I spent a lot of time in Nashville. The only place where a songwriter was getting cut was in Nashville and I lived in Los Angeles. So I was splitting my time between Los Angeles and Nashville and living on Southwest airlines.

But once a year I would always drive cross-country. I wanted to do it. I wanted to get out there and just drive to Nashville; get on Interstate 40 and go. one time I was doing that I was in the middle of the Mojave desert and I start thinking “I’ve always wanted to write a novel. Why am I not writing a novel?”

And I realized that the only person telling me not to write a novel was me. I had every excuse in the world why I hadn’t done it. So I said to myself, “Guess what, Swann? You don’t have to be any good at it. You can be bad at it. You can write something that’s terrible. It doesn’t matter. And once I gave myself permission to actually be bad, I started. And I had an idea; it was a “What if this happened” and that’s actually how I started writing the book. The novel took me a year and a half to write.

I’ll tell you, out of my entire career it’s probably the most fun I’ve had creatively. I don’t know if you’ve ever done it, Nick, but if you’re a writer I highly suggest it. It’s so fun. And it’s so free. And you can kind of go into your own little world and just live in there.

They say “Write what you know” and I asked “What happens if a previously unknown Mozart work pops up? Who owns the publishing on it? Who gets it? What are the financial concerns? And I certainly knew that; I know the music world and the character in the book, David Webber, is a nightclub pianist, and clearly I know something about that. I wanted to put the whole thing on a canvas that I could be somewhat of an authority on. It was just so much fun, and quite an emotional investment because you really start caring about these characters, these people you create.

When I finished the book and finished the rewrite and finished the final edit and it actually went to print, I went through like a separation anxiety. I missed these people. I loved it. I think getting an e-mail from someone saying “Hey, I just downloaded your book; I’m about to sit down and read it”–I think that’s more thrilling than hearing “I’m going to cut your song.”

Sounds like a blast. Did you have an early interest in writing and songwriting?

Okay Nick, I’m gonna speak honestly, guy to guy here. Here’s the truth. I started writing songs to get girls. And I have this feeling that any male that tells you differently is lying to you. [laughs] We learn the guitar, we learn to play the piano, we write the songs for a girl. So in high school of course I was the annoying one who sang all the solos in church and played the piano and stuff and you know, I started writing songs. And I had rock bands, things like that. And then I would write songs for whatever girl I had a crush on.

When I moved to New York after high school, I was actually there to pursue an acting career. But I made a living, kept a roof over my head by playing nightclub piano down in The Village. So music was always just a way of paying the bills for me. I never really thought I would make it my career. But here we are thirty years later. And I was always writing songs and as the years went by I started taking it more seriously. And more seriously. And learning the craft, taking workshops, and it took me about eleven years before I made a dime as a songwriter, and I’d been working pretty hard. It wasn’t a decision, “I want to be a songwriter”, but it was always something I’d done over the years, and I knew it was a craft—and I wanted to get better at that.

You must’ve found some applications for acting techniques in songwriting.

Oh, yes. Absolutely. You know, it’s so interesting you say that, Nick, because I think I’ve discovered that I’m really interested in the creative process. I’ve taught a workshop for so long that I’m constantly thinking about this too, way things relate to the students. And being here in LA, a lot of my students do a lot of things. They’re actors, they’re dancers, they’re painters. The creative process is kind of the same; the disciplines may change very slightly but the actual organic process of creativity I’ve found to be the same: don’t edit. Be free. Be an observer.

I did find those years as an actor to be helpful.

So how’d you record the album, Stale Scotch and Cheap Cigars?

We cut the record live. Mics on the players, mic on the piano, mic on me and let’s just cut it live. And yes, I know my tempo’s going to vary slightly, because I’m a piano player, but I want that. I love records nowadays that are more performance-oriented. I love albums that are not so technically… well, technical.

Don’t get me wrong; I appreciate them! Some of them are just amazing. Some of these guys are scientists. I don’t know how they’re doing what they’re doing. But I do long for—and I’m more attracted to—the more organic records, flaws and all.

I can agree with that.

It’s probably just my age.

No, I think there’s something to be said for a record that sounds more human, that sounds relatable. When everything sounds crystalline, perfect, it sounds a little… I don’t want to say it sounds like you can’t trust it, but it sounds very unnatural. It’s nothing like anything you would ever hear in the real world and I think some subconscious part of everyone knows that.

I think so too.

What’ve you got coming up next, Phil?

A nap is what I had in mind. It’s been a wild summer. Well, let’s see. I’m starting a UCLA class tonight; I just got back in town and the first UCLA class starts tonight on commercial songwriting. I still have to go back to New York to check on the show—it runs through October. And I’m actually starting working on a new record for Spring.

One of the advantages of being my age—and I think it’s the only advantage of getting older in the music business—is I don’t have an image to protect. I’ve been a songwriter forever; I want to do something different. I’ve done the sixties vibe: Apollo Mission, Playboy tuxedo-wearing, drinking, smoking Dean Martin CD; next record’s going to be more singer-songwriter oriented, probably more rock. I’ve got some tracks already cut for it and I like the way they’re sounding. Some songs written for that.

I’ve been doing this a long time. I’m mostly known as a songwriter. And I’m not 20. I don’t have to create an image and worry about that. So I get to make the music I want to. And my musical tastes—as I’m sure yours do—vary. I mean, I like a lot of different styles. I don’t want to have to just do one thing and I don’t think I have to.

What would you tell young songwriters who are facing pressure to form and fulfill an image, and are faced with a choice between being able to release what they want and protecting their career?

That’s tricky. It’s easy for me to sit back and say “Well, be true to yourself and it’ll all work out.” I don’t know if that’s true or not. I will tell you this, and this is something that was told to me by a record executive in Nashville a few years ago.

He said “You know the sad thing is last year we in this town signed sixty new artists to the labels. There were sixty new major-label artists. This year, one of them is still around for a second record.” And he said that’s a pretty good average, actually. One out of sixty survived.

That being the case, wouldn’t you rather make the record you want to make and sell rather than make the record Marketing & Promotion wanted you to make and sell? I mean, that will always nag at you. So that’s probably what I would say: given that the odds are so huge and monumental for any sort of success anyway, you might as well be true to yourself and do what you want to do.

I’ve always felt I would rather fail being me than fail trying to be someone else. And… I could be completely wrong about all of this. [laughs]

There are Marketing & Promotion people out there right now saying “What an idiot. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Don’t listen to a word Phil’s saying; listen to us!”

So that’s the battle, and I hear it. I have enough friends in the other side of the aisle who’re always complaining that their artists won’t do this, or won’t do that. There’s always another side to the coin. Coming from the creative side, though, I think ultimately you can’t be anyone other than who you are. You may be able to fake it for a little while, but ultimately… you just can’t. And boy do I wish I had learned that earlier on. I spent a big part of my early life trying to be what I thought other people wanted me to be, and being afraid just to be myself.

So that’s probably my best advice to young people: Don’t be afraid.

I’m enjoying this new part of my creative life! Doing things you may not have been expecting from Phil Swann. In the 80′s I was known as such a pop-rock writer; in the 90′s I became known as a country songwriter; and since 2004 I’m now known as a Broadway writer. So the titles keep changing on me. That’s why I’m enjoying making these records. Each one is a chance to change it up again.

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Phil Swann

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