"I have an aunt, who was in her early 60's at the time, who told me, 'I've known two people who have gotten to do what they really wanted to do with their lives, and you're one of them.' That really hit me."
Jennings has been there from the earliest days of Mary Chapin Carpenter's professional career. They met in June of 1982 at a small gathering of writers in Washington, D.C.. Through that chance meeting, the two have cemented a symbiotic relationship, crafting captivating songs and a warm friendship.
Born in Luray, Virginia, Jennings lived in the Washington area for 30 years before moving to Nashville two years ago. He first took piano lessons at age six, followed by trumpet and the string bass.
"I got tired of showing guitar players how to play," laughs Jennings, 41. "You know-don't you?-that in every bass player there lurks an awesome guitar player."
His first band was the Doorknockers, which performed at his seventh-grade talent show. "We played Secret Agent and Sounds of Silence," he recalls. "We had that one gig and then quickly retired."
Jennings took up the guitar seriously at 15 and continued playing while attending Northern Virginia Community College.
"I thought that I wanted to be an art or English teacher," says Jennings. "A couple of the teachers I had inspired me, but I always had this pull to keep playing."
While he downplays his considerable guitar skills, Jennings has been, for over a decade, a key element in Carpenter's music. Whether it's his dazzling fret work or the delicate picking on a pretty ballad, Jennings gives texture and feeling to many of the five-time Grammy-winner's songs.
He has co-written two of her hit singles: Going Out Tonight and Never Had It So Good. Last year, he authored Don't Forget Me When I'm Gone, a touching song that explores the last days of a dishwasher dying of AIDS. It's sung by Carpenter on Red, Hot & Country AIDS benefit album.
Jennings has co-produced all five of Carpenter's albums, which now number more than six million in sales. He has been the winner of Washington's D.C. -area Music Association's best producer award for the last four years.
Some of his recent productions work includes albums for John Gorka (High Street), Naimh Cavanagh (Arista U.K.), Beausoleil (Rounder), the Rankin Family (EMI Canada), and Janis Ian.
"My father died when I was nine, but my mom's always been very supportive of what I do," says Jennings, "even when I didn't have a whole lot of direction. She couldn't be more pleased with the way things have turned out. She always knew this was my true calling."
The critical thing is to make the artists feel comfortable. You need to create an environment where they can attain their best work. Having another set of ears the artist can trust-that can be really invaluable. This goes even as far as selecting the songs that will appear on the album. I don't normally suggest things but I think that's what you need. Other than that, it's "let's make a wish list of musicians you'd like to work with and where you would like to record it." Most of the time, you are co-producing with the artist.
I thought she would do well. There's a lot of talented performers out there. Of all the people I met who who weren't signed acts, with all due respect, she was by far the best. She had everything you need to make it. I guess I didn't know what 'do well' meant (laughing). It's been simply amazing.
Well, there's certainly been some surprises for her over the last few years in regards to demands on her time. She never realized that people would be stopping her, walking through airports, to talk or ask for autographs. But she's handled it real well. There haven't been any scandals, because there really haven't been any. She hasn't thrown anything at journalists (laughing).
She's loads of fun, and can be a real hoot at times, but she's very serious about her career and very smart, as well. She has a career, as long as she wants. Her last two albums have sold nearly five million copies in a relatively short period of time. I don't think anybody operates at that level for an entire career -Bruce Sprinsteen is a perfect example- no one does it indefinitely. Taking most of 1994 off was a good idea: she got to recharge her jets and do "normal" stuff.
Touring inclines one to defer your personal life. It's also a good way to wreck your life (laughing). The thing that makes touring incredibly appealing is we all love what we do. But it's very difficult to have a successful career and a family life and maintain friendships while you're touring. It's difficult to establish continuity in a relation. Your time becomes the public's time.
Our first record was made in my basement with the idea of having something to sell at our duo dates. I've seen a lot of wonderful artists get passed over. It happens all the time. I stopped long ago trying to figure out how it works. The label's job is to sell records; it's not to make you happy or get you to sleep on time. The thing that motivates a label to sell records is a totally different thing from what makes me want to make records.
She started to think about writing songs at a very young age. I think her first song was at age eight, about a bumblebee. More than anything, I think she just has the urge to write. She's a voracious reader, and I think the two just fell together. When you're reading a lot, you acquire new information all the time, and when you're reading good writers, you see what happens when words fall together, the way the lines of writing react to each other. Also, when you're writing a song, you have an immerse advantage. Not only do you have one thing that appeals to people-good lyrics-but also the music that appeals to almost everybody.
It can be kind of deceptive. You'll hear a song with a great melody and beat but then hear the words and go, "Oh, no! They've didn't finish it." Chapin works a song to completion; and takes them to the most developed point she can. She'll also have several in progress at the same time. That's a good idea since, when you get stuck, it can be very frustrating. I write at a geological pace; I tend to work one at a time.
For me, something will happen, or I'll see something in my life that will make me respond. I was reading an article in Time magazine-I think it was The Faces of AIDS. There were 300-400 photo's with captions or quotes from people that had died. It was tough sledding, getting through it, but there was one that really got me: a dishwasher from Houston, Texas. His quote was "Don't forget about me when my time comes." That seem liked a logical request and I decided to write a song about it. I tried to imagine what was going on in his brain. Now, it's hard to work in other people's shoes, but I gave it my best shot. Chapin later recorded it for the Red, Hot and Country benefit album. What gives a song real power is if it honestly comes from some place that's real. Now, that sounds real simple but it's also incredibly complicated. If you're going to write about it, you better believe in it; in this case, the message, because if you didn't like the song, then you don't support the message.
Normally, on the road, I play at sound check and on stage. Frankly, I spend a lot of time on the phone doing business. For me, the urge to play all the time isn't there, and I'm sure it shows in the playing. I don't feel-at the tender age of 41, having played 25 years- I can bring myself to sit down and play two or three hours a day. When I'm off, I'll pick up the guitar every couple of days and play. Primarily, I want to stay in touch, and also, Duke (new guitarist in the band, Duke Levine, formerly of the Story) is so good I don't want him to make my life miserable.
The biggest part of it is, obviously, protecting it. All our guitars are in hard cases and all the guitars at the end of the day, go into a hard coffin. It's about five feet by three feet by three feet. We pack them in there and close it up, so theoretically, they should stand a lot of abuse. I can do little adjustments on my electric guitars, but not my acoustic ones. I'm a player, not a technician. If I have problems with a fret or something, we have a great guy in Washington, Mike Dove who handles that for us. I feel fortunate he's around.
I think it's easy to live with the impression that there are a lot of people out there doing what they want to do. But really, I think the world's broken down into two types of people: people who try to find pleasure in their work, and people who try to find pleasure in their lives. Not that it should be that simple, but I used to work for the government. Maybe there's a few people who have a great job and a great life, but I think that's a rare thing. I'm really fortunate to be able to do what I really want to do, but there are trade-offs: I got divorced last December. The real issue for people who love what they do is to make sure everything else doesn't fall off the plate. That's kind of what happened to me over a long period of time.