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I am finally and happily home from four weeks on the road. Right now, I am reveling in sleeping in my own bed, as well as sprawling on my own sofa with my own cat, Mr. Morpheus (who definitely has some options regarding my extended absence…”Meooooww!”

The trip was fantastic. I attended the Rocky Mountain Song school and played a gig in Colorado, and taught songwriting at a private retreat in California. I was generously helped along the way by road angles who offered me food, free places to stay, support and love. I was even gifted a Fender Stratocaster (thank you, Megan K!) as well as earning a paycheck! Seriously- how can you argue with a trip that sends you how with a Strat?

Still, as Dorothy said in “The Wizard of Oz”: “There’s no place like home”…and being home got me thinking about one of my favorite kinds of musical venues: The house concert.

What Is a House Concert, Anyway?

The concept is wonderfully simple. You invite a musician to play in your home . Then invite some friends. Everybody gathers,, listens, laughs, maybe weeps a little, and experiences music close up. No squinting at a stage fa zillion feet away, or contenting with loud sports bar TV’s flashing, or an uppity espresso machine suddenly launching into its own aria during the most quiet, intense song of the night.

House concerts may seem like a modern idea, but in many ways they are a return to a ver old tradition: once upon a time, before giant arenas, fancy lighting rigs, microphones and amplifiers, people made music in homes,Traveling musicians wander from place to place, sometimes playing in exchange for money, meals or lodging. Music happened close to the people listening to it. That kind intimacy is exactly what makes house concerts so special today.

No Middlemen

A house concert puts very little between the musician and the audience. House concerts also allow the money collected at the door or in a hat or in the proverbial hat to go directly to the artist instead of being divided among a venue, ticketing service and various other hungry little music business middlemen along the way.

This past weekend, I played exactly this kind of concert, with my friend Sue Quigley. I’ve also hosted occasional house concerts over the years, and I’ve also played plenty of them in other people’s homes. They remain some of my super-duper, favorite kinds shows.

You Do NOT Need a McMansion to host

One of the biggest misconceptions about hosting is that you need a cavernous living room, a foot-ball-field-sized backyard or a house worthy of Architectural Digest. Not true!

If you can comfortably fit ten or fifteen people in your living room (or kitchen or patio, or garage or even your driveway…yes: I have both played at and attended driveway concerts!)…. you can probably host a house concert. I have attended house concerts in tiny apartments where we all sat on the floor as well as at homes where people have built small stages in their back yards.

Most house concerts are un-amplified . The musician is close enough that everyone can simply listen. Some hosts provide food and drinks. Others make it a potluck.When I host the occasional house concert, I generally prefer afternoon concerts between meals because I panic at dealing with serving people. And attempting to simultaneously manage food, guests and musicians would probably result in some sort national catastrophe.

Can’t Find a Venue? Make One.

Musicians frequently complain about how difficult it is to find places to play. And they’re right. Booking can be frustrating. Emails disappear into the void. Venues close. Calendars fill up. Rejection is part of the landscape.

But I have always believed that musicians occasionally need to make their own scene, and cultivating house concerts is one of the easiest ways to do that. You can host another musician. You can ask a friend to host you. You can even host a concert in your own home and perform yourself.

There was once a little bit of taboo around musicians hosting themselves, but the pandemic changed many of those assumptions. Musicians became much more creative about where and how performances could happen. Personally, I think that’s a very good thing.

The Great House-Concert Swap

One of the coolest arrangements musicians can create is a simple swap. You host another songwriter at your house. Later, they host you at theirs. Each musician invites part of the audience. Suddenly something wonderful happens: your musical communities begin to overlap. Their listeners discover you. Your listeners discover them. This is “Cross-pollination” at its best! People who might never walk into a nightclub on a Tuesday night will happily walk three blocks down the street carrying a folding chair and a bottle of wine.

Umm..Strangers in My House?

This is another common concern, and a reasonable one. Most house concerts are essentially invitation-only events. The exact address is not publicly advertised. Guests RSVP first, and the host sends the address privately after confirming who is coming. That gives the host some control over who walks through the door while still allowing new listeners to discover the music. You don’t have to throw your front door open to the entire internet.

Music Close To The People

There is something deeply endearing about music performed at human scale with a few chairs, a guitar, a welcoming room full of folks. Maybe some snacks. Maybe a cat wandering through the second verse. No ginormous production necessary.

And while a house concert generates some income and introduces musicians to new listeners, I think there is another benefit that is even more important: making people feel good. Lighter. Connected. For a couple of hours, a little community comes together where there wasn’t one before. How cool is that?

What about you? Have you ever attended a house concert? Have you played at one? What was it like? Tell me in the comments!

Me changing a tire for the first time in 30 years…out in the desert!

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What to Do When You Get a “Flat Tire” on Stage

Last week I was driving from Colorado to California. I had just spent a wonderful two weeks attending the Rocky Moutain Song School, doing a showcase gig at Warrior Soul Gallery in Lyons and visiting with old friends. I was heading to California for a songwriting teaching gig.

Thus said, I had a tight schedule. I had to get a certain number of hours of driving in each day to make the start of the songwriters retreat I was teaching at. Then suddenly, 35 miles west of Salt Lake, my tire went flat. It was 98 degrees and I am in the middle of the desert. And now I was behind schedule.

The Metaphorical Flat Tire: When Something Goes Wrong on Stage

No gig is perfect. There is usually something that goes wrong: breaking a string, battery dying, dropping the pick, forgetting lyrics, loud espresso machines interrupting a song, Sports bar audiences suddenly cheering loudly at the TV, a train rumbling by on tracks very close to the venue…whatDO you do when your performance suddenly goes off course?

First Rule: Don’t Panic

Avoid: Stopping everything in embarrassment, acting devastated, assuming the performance is ruined, or treating one mistake as proof that your entire musical career has collapsed. Instead: Stay calm. Make an adjustment. Keep going.

Second Rule: Learn to Pivot

The word “Pivot” may be overused, but it remains useful. A pivot means: turning, changing direction slightly, adjusting your expectation, and/or finding another way forward. Onstage mistakes often require exactly this skill.

Third Rule: Don’t Automatically Apologize!

Avoid repeatedly saying “I’m sorry.” Apologizing calls more attention to the mistake, not less. Saying “I’m sorry” makes you look like a victim, rather than the leader on stage. You appear less confident. Don’t tell the audience something went terribly wrong when they may barely have noticed. You do not need to announce that you have lost control.

Forth Rule: Have Practical Backup Plans

· Broken string Calmly change it. Tell a story while you restring. If you break strings frequently, consider bringing a second guitar.

· Dead battery Replace it without drama. Make a joke while you do it.

· Equipment trouble Check everything before the gig whenever possible. Still assume that something unexpected may eventually happen.

· Dead air Have a few short stories, jokes, or bits of stage patter ready for unexpected pauses.

Fifth Rule: Humor is one of your best emergency tools. Humor tells the audience that you are still in control and that you are comfortable onstage. You do not take yourself too seriously Even performers who write serious songs can use moments of levity.

Some Personal Examples of Rolling With the Situation:

Back in the 1980’s I used to play a regular gig at Avogadro’s number in Fort Collins, CO. The train tracks were right there in the middle of the street. Thus, VERY LOUD trains periodically passed nearby. Instead of fighting the noise, my band would break out into a spontaneous version of “Locomotive Breath” by Jethro Tull. It brought the house down! Or we would say, “Who knew this was a train song? I thought we were singing a ballad of broken-hearted despair!”

I have also played many sports bars and frankly, I used to freeze and panic playing those types of venues. I eventually learned when If the home team scores and everyone suddenly cheers, I learned to stop fighting for their attention and cheer loudly with them Then continue. Sometimes “if you can’t beat them, join them” is excellent stagecraft.

As to forgotten lyrics or chords: I never panic anymore … I just make up new ones the fly. Sometimes I sing la la la al and have the audience sing along the with me. This makes the audience apart of the solution! I just laugh and keep moving. The audience will often enjoy the recovery more than they would have noticed the original mistake.

As to my flat tire on August 18:

Once I changed the tire to the temporary spare (soaking in 98-degree desert heat, BTW!), I had to backtrack roughly 35 miles to Tooele, UT (a Salt Lake City suburb).

I stayed in a hotel there instead of reaching the originally planned overnight stop in Wells, NV. Went to Discount Tire in Tooele, Utah, first thing the next morning. Tire was repaired quickly. Back on the road within about 45 minutes and not only did I reach my California destination on time, but I was also actually 5 minutes early!

You cannot control every flat tire, broken string, dead battery, forgotten lyric, passing train, or screaming sports fan. You can control how you react.

Adjust. Improvise. Keep going. You never know You may even arrive five minutes early.

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Car all fixed and good to go!

[Cartoon by ChatGPT. Article human-written by yours truly💕)

One of my readers suggested that I do a column on how to sing harmonies more successfully. That may seem an odd thing to as I am a solo performer, but as I LOVE singing harmony when I get a chance, I thought I would grant my reader their wish.

Tight harmony is less about louder singing and brash confidentiality and more about locking in the tiny things together at once. These things are pitch, rhythm, vowels, consonants, phrasing, etc.

When these don’t line up, it sounds like alley cats scratching chalkboard, but when they DO line up, they’re golden! 

Some things to think about that make a difference:

1. Learn your harmony as its own part. Don’t think “I am singing above or below him or her” Know your harmony well enough that you could sing it solo. If your ear keeps getting distracted by the main melody, practiced your part in unison with a single line of piano notes, guitar, recording.

This technique is EXCACTLY how I was taught harmony n my fifth-grade music class at school.  Our teacher would teach the main melody to one half the class, and the harmony to the other half. Each section would practice its part separately and then we’d sing them together. One of the songs we worked on was “Country Roads” by John Denver. I was taught the lower part, and still often think that THAT part is the real song! I can still sing the whole lower harmony separately as its song.

2. Match vowels obsessively! If one singer sings “looooove”m but you are singing “lahve” it ain’t gonna match, no matter how pitch-perfect you are. I know in my past bands, we have worked HARD to decide which way the vowels will go, and then practice, practice, practice. It’s all about blending, not “my voice is better than your voice”. Practicing a cappella is a really good way to focus on getting your harmonies right.

3. The same thing goes for consonants. Pay attention to what and how the lead singer places their consonants- they may be emphasizing their t’ or clicking their d’s differently than you so…but you guys need to match.

Especially pay attention to the “S” consonant. Some people really piss out their asses for a long time others don’t. You have to agree on how long you’re going to punch that “S” out. Watch your singing partner’s mouth and throat closely and try to mimic how they are moving their lips, swallowing, and take note of how where, when and they are breathing.

4. Match phrasing and breath. Especially at the ends of phrases. agree with each other on when to take catch breaths and when to take deep breaths.

5. Listen more than you sing. Try to hear yourselves from OUTSIDE your selves and ask yourselves: do you sound as one?

6. Be VERY careful with vibrato. If the lead singer is singing a straight line, but you are warbling in your best Maria Callas voice, it’s gonna sound weird. Vibrate if they do. Don’t if they don’t (I am thinking about that one obnoxious “opera voice” you’ll hear in a community choir…nothing against opera, but again, ya gotta blend!)

7. Less is more. If you are unsure of where you are going, lay back, sing less, or simply do some quiet “ooo’s.” “Ooo’s” sound much better than a pile of mish-mosh mismatches.  This is not a competition! Blend, blend!

A couple of exercises:

1. Take one line of the song and sing it VERY slowly together. First sing the only the vowels, Then add the consonants. Record it…do they match? Where are you off? Do you start and end in the same place together?

1. Have one singer sing a note and hold it. The second singer sings below or above that note and slides around until the harmony “clicks” in place. You can even practice this with a recording of yourself- record yourself holding one note, then sing along with the record.

And here is a nifty bonus: When two pitches a really working, you can often hear a kind of acoustic shimmer or a  “ghost tone”. This means that all the sound vibrations are in their proper places on the scale. This little “sonic halo” is you buddy!


So now it is your turn:

👉Do you sing harmony?

🤔 What is challenging?

💕What are some of your tricks in practicing?

Tell  me in the comments!

-Deb🥰

debseymourmusic.com

(Cartoon by ChatGPT. Article fully human-written by me. Please consider a paid subscription or one time donation so I can afford hire a human to draw future artwork? https://debseymourmusic.com/donate or hit the “Subscribe” button below)

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Greetings from Boulder, Colorado, where I am recuperating from a week at the Rocky Mountain Song School, followed by dancing around like a maniac at the Rocky Mountain Folks Festival. (And posting this article a day later than my usual Monday post as such)

Song School was amazing. And up-lifting. And challenging. And flippin’ exhausting.

All this activity can put wear and tear on the body: three classes a day, late-night jams and sitting in weird positions when ensconced deeply in tête-à-tête conversations about the significance of pink guitar picks and how to change the world into a kinder place. It didn’t help that the temperature was soaring the high 90’s most of the week.

But this caused me to think deeply about how to pace myself and take care of my body. Thus, one of the classes I was very drawn was Vance Gilbert’s (Yes! That Vance Gilbert!) “See What Condition Your Condition Is In”. This session was devoted entirely to staying healthy as a touring musician…especially as an aging one. But truly, this advice is good for any creative…or anyone, really!

Vance has been part of the singer-songwriter world since the great East Coast folk revival of the 1990s, alongside people like John Gorka, Christine Lavin, Patty Larkin, and Cliff Eberhardt. He has taught at Rocky Mountain Song School for years.

Except last year. In 2025 Vance was diagnosed throat cancer. A career touring songwriter , who has had throat cancer and returned to performing and teaching as quickly as he has, is someone I’m inclined to listen to when he talks about health.

Vance’s main point was simple:

Your body is your main instrument.

Not your guitar. Not your mandolin. Your voice and your body. Your hands, arms, neck, back, core, legs, lungs, and brain are what make the music possible.

Musicians have been called “small-muscle athletes,” by some, and I agree. We may not be Olympic wrestlers or high-jump athletes, but we are athletets. We perform repetitive tiny, precise, physical movements for hours, then sit in cars, airplanes, folding chairs, and occasionally motel beds apparently designed by torture chamber sadists in Medieval times.

Vance talked about exercise, hydration, electrolytes, meditation, sleep, and physical therapy. PT was especially important in helping him regain and reshape his voice after cancer treatment. Vance also has diabetes and jogs five days a week, whether on the road or not, to manage it. That resonated with me because I am pre-diabetic and currently also have golfer’s elbow in my left arm, I have PT exercises I’m supposed to do. When I actually do them, they work. When I take my Metformin and watch what I eat, they work. Imagine that!

I also believe singers should occasionally take a few corrective vocal lessons, even if they already know how to sing. I’ve done that several times (losing one’s voice is a great motivator-happened back in 1990_ and am probably due again. It won’t turn me into the next Maria Callas, Wynonna, or Ariana Grande, but it can keep me from developing bad habits. Ditto with guitar lessons. It’s easy to get all in with your ego and think you know it all, but even guitar teachers should get lessons from time-to-time from another teacher to make sure not to fall into old bad habits.

And then there is the great touring-musician commandment:

Hydrate. Hydrate. Hydrate.

At camps like Song School, or Puget Sound Guitar Workshop, or Portland Folklore Society’s “Singtime Frolics” you can attend classes all day and then stay up half the night at picking or song swap circles. For a while. Eventually, your body sends a strongly worded SOS. And that SOS is an asshole.

In my twenties, I used to try to do everything at events like these. I was a victim of the FOMOS (fear of missing out) I ate badly, didn’t exercise, didn’t sleep enough, and had very few mental boundaries. Looking back, I think that contributed heavily to my crashing hard around age thirty. This year at Song School (and also at Puget Sound Guitar Workshop’s Spring Retreat I chose to be more of a morning person because there were classes I really wanted to take. That meant not staying up until the wee hours every night.

So yes, boundaries are part of taking care of your instrument too. Sometimes self-care means skipping the midnight picking session. Sometimes it means taking one class instead of three. Sometimes it means saying no.

None of this is medical advice. I’m not a doctor, and neither is Vance Gilbert. But hearing a veteran touring musician talk openly about cancer, recovery, physical therapy, exercise, food, hydration, sleep, and boundaries was a valuable reminder.

The goal isn’t perfect health- we all have “things” (me: acid reflux disease, pre- diabetes, and golfers’ elbow.) The goal is to stay well enough to keep creating. Because guitars can be repaired and strings can be replaced. Microphones can be swapped out. But the instrument carrying all of them around? That one deserves some care: your body!

What about you? How do you stay healthy on the road or in general? Tell me in the comments!

-Deb :-)

Vance Gilbert and me at Song School. Always loved his music!

I am a weird sort of person.

When I am home, I dream of the road: no interruptions, new sights and sounds, adventures. When I am on the road, I dream of home. Wanting my own bed, kitchen and of course, my furry dictator, Morpheus, demanding his feline petting.

When it comes to writing songs, I seem to need these two halves.

You see, at home, something is always “yelling” at me for attention (besides Mr. Morph) The laundry is piling up like fender-bender on I-5. The broken blind is asking why it hasn’t been repaired. The garden bushes need pruning. I have a Dr’s appt. Etc Etc.

On the road, none of that is going on. It’s quiet. I am in my bubble. Some where along a long highway stretch somewhere, the mental load begins to dissipate. The mind quiets. And I can actually hear my imagination.

Nearly every song I have ever written began on a road trip to somewhere or another. Yes- my practical mind still pays attention to the road (it’s life or death thing, don’t you know?)But my right brain sta…

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Hi ho, I’m on the road again. This time, I’m heading to Colorado for Song School at Planet Bluegrass, followed by the Rocky Mountain Folks Festival. (Three of my songwriting heros, Jesse Welles, Steve Poltz & Gillian Welch, are ALL playing this year!)

I’m not performing at either event. I’ll be there to learn, listen, observe connect, reconnect, participate, and probably stay up too late talking about the craft of songwriting.

After that, I have a concert with my old friend Mira Devi and a new friend, Nadine Serkerez. Then follows a private songwriting retreat in California where I’ll be teaching. I’ll ne gone four weeks total. Only two of those events are paid. So why go?

Because a musical life is not built only on paid gigs. It is built by showing up.

Many musicians often ask me: How do I build a following? How do I get noticed?How do I get more gigs? My first question is usually: are you showing up? And by showing up, I do not mean only sending booking emails, promoting yourself, …

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A few months ago, I journeyed with some songwriter friends to Camano Island Grange Hall to play at an open mic sponsored by CABAM! (Camano Area Bluegrass & Acoustic Music)

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Just before my turn, I was tuning my guitar in the foyer of the Grange Hall when my high E string broke. Naturally, it chose that exact moment. Guitar strings have excellent dramatic timing. I quickly replaced it.

Those of you who play guitar know that the tuning pegs on one side of the headstock turn one direction, while the pegs on the other side turn the opposite direction. I have never fully understood why. I assume this system was invented centuries ago by someone who wanted musicians to remain humble.

In my hurry, I had wound the new string around the peg backward. The string worked perfectly well, but the tuning peg now turned in the opposite direction from the way my hand expected it to. Every time I tried to raise the pitch, I lowered it. Every time I tried to lower it, I raised it. And, of course, I discove…

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Do you know what your audience really wants?

I hate to say it, but it is not really all about you, even though you are the one on stage.

Yes, you wrote the songs. Yes, you practiced. Yes, you tuned the guitar, found the venue, remembered most of the lyrics, and bravely stood under lighting that may or may not be doing you any favors.

But once the audience is in the room, the evening belongs to everyone.

Your audience wants to feel connected to you. They want to feel connected to each other. They want to feel relaxed, safe, and comfortable enough to receive what you are giving them.

At a folk show, it might sound like:

“Hi, I’m Deb Seymour. Welcome to the show. We’re going to do two sets tonight with a short break in the middle.”

At a punk show, it might sound like:

“Hey, you motherf***ers! Are you ready to rage?”

And that audience will love it.

Why?

Because they feel seen. They know they are in the right room. They feel culturally understood. They know the performer understands the contract.

In …

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Let’s talk about one of the most common singer-songwriter stage habits: the over-introduction:

“This is a song I wrote. I was inspired by XYZ, and I was at a time in my life when XYZ was happening, and then ABC occurred…oh, and DEF and GHI…”

Five minutes later, the audience has heard the backstory, the footnotes, the deleted scenes, and the director’s commentary. Then you play a two-minute song.

Sorry, folks. This does not work. (And yes, I know you’re nervous. Believe me, I do!)

When you’re on stage, it’s easy to feel like you have to explain yourself. You want the audience to understand where the song came from. You want them to “get it.” But here’s the thing: solid songs explain themselves.

That is the point of writing lyrics and melody. The words carry the story. The melody anchors it in our heads. If your introduction is longer than the song, y…

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What Is Stage Fright?

Stage fright is your body mistaking a microphone for a maw-gaping lion with a sound system.

Really.

I used to teach at the Pacific Science Center, and one of my favorite units involved animal skulls. I’d ask kids, “How can you tell the difference between prey animals and predator animals?”

Prey animals, like horses, sheep, goats, rabbits, and rats, usually have eyes on the sides of their heads. That helps them see danger coming from almost every direction.

Predators, like dogs, cats, lions, tigers, bears, and yes, humans, have eyes in the front. Forward-facing eyes are great for depth perception, focus, and pouncing on lunch.

So imagine you’re onstage, staring out at a room full of forward-facing predator eyes staring back at you…no wonder your nervous system panics!

Your rational brain may know, “These are lovely people who came to hear a song.” But your ancient animal brain is yelling, “WE ARE ABOUT TO BE EATEN: RUN! ”

That’s stage fright.

More scientifically, stage fr…

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Although I started my musical education at age 3 on the piano, it wasn’t until I got a guitar in my hands at age 10 that I knew I had found my instrument. And my voice.

You see, I grew up in a household as an only child where I wasn’t allowed to “do” emotions. Crying, complaining, or expressing any emotional discomfort was considered “unseemly”. It was the old, Puritanical “Work hard. Don’t complain. Keep a stiff upper lip.” and “STOP CRYING!” sort of home.

For sensitive child who felt and noticed everything, this was not easy to do. Horrid, in fact.

However, these same well-meaning parents, who decried unsightly feelings, were also very into listening to Broadway musicals on the record player (remember those?). Thus I grew up hearing songs about “Washing That Man Right Out Of My Hair” (South Pacific), “Everything’s Up To Date In Kansas City” (Oklahoma!) and “You’ve Got To Be Carefully Taught” (West Side Story).

Listening to these musicals, I realized tha…

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Welcome to The Deb-Side Dispatch

I’ve been writing songs since I was ten and performing in public since I was sixteen, which means I have wrangled quite a bit of experience along the way. Some might call it wisdom. I mostly call it stories, plus a few questionable hotel breakfasts and the occasional mystery cable in the bottom of a gig bag.

Now in my early sixties, I feel compelled to share what I’ve learned about songwriting, performing, livestreaming, online open mics, getting motivated, getting out of your own way, what to say on stage, what absolutely not to say on stage, and a few guitar chops that have saved my bacon more than once.

I’ll also be sharing stories about my fractious feline, Mr. Morpheus, who is a main character in my life. I do also have a husband named Jason, but he is an introvert and prefers to be the power behind the throne. (Please do not tell Morpheus there is another throne.)

This Substack is where I’ll share thoughts, stories, practical tips, and hopeful helpin…

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I’ve been writing songs since I was ten and performing in public since I was sixteen. This means I have spent a several decades hauling guitars into strange rooms, singing into questionable sound systems, forgetting lyrics in front of witnesses, learning what audiences want, learning what does not work, and collecting stories like single socks found in the dryer.

Now, in my early 60s, I feel a strong pull to share what I’ve learned. Not from a mountaintop, because honestly I’d rather be in the garden with coffee, a guitar, and my cat judging me from the shrubbery. Instead, this is all from from the lived-in, offbeat, folk-singer trenches.

This Substack is for songwriters, singers, late bloomers, shy bloomers, stubborn bloomers, people trying to get back to their creative selves, and anyone who suspects that music may be part medicine, part troublemaker, and part sacred nonsense.

Why this, why now?

For years, I’ve written songs about tango-dancing Martians, hitchhiking chickens, colonos…

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