I recorded Kathryn Rose on my Swedish record. Still untitled but for now I call it The Lettuce Diaries: Scandinavian Edition IKEA. Kathryn is something else. A supernatural force wearing human skin. Working with her made me think about the whole crazy spectrum of people I pull into the studio. On one end you’ve got folks who have barely seen a microphone. They walk in like it’s a bomb with a red blinking countdown. On the other end you have the lifers who pay their rent with their voice. People say talent is talent. It is a nice slogan on a mug. But familiarity with the whole circus counts for something. It tells you whether someone can keep creating when the lights are flourescent and the room smells like old cables.

I recorded a couple of newcomers recently and they had real talent. You could hear it hiding in their throats. But they shrank the minute I asked them to try something different. Every comment landing like a punch. Then Kathryn walks in and she listens. The opposite. She wants the feedback. She wants to push. She’ll walk right into the uncomfortable stuff without asking for no map. Working with her is easy, the way real pros make it look easy.

Reminded me why my first attempts at acting failed so profoundly. I never wanted to look stupid. Thought I was protecting myself, but all I was doing was confirming the stupidity. The trick is to give in. Once you stop caring how foolish you might look, you’re nominated for an award. That’s what Kathryn has, permission and fearlessness. As if she says to the universe, go ahead, make me look ridiculous. I’ll show you.