About That Song: Chris Koza of Rogue Valley
Hi! I’m Sarah Morris. I’m wildly in love with songs and the people who write them. There have been a few songs in my life that have been total gamechangers—songs that made me want to be a songwriter and songs I’ve written that made me feel like I am a songwriter. About That Song is a space where I can learn more about those pivotal songs in other writers’ lives.
In the 16th edition of this series, I connected with Chris Koza, a singer-songwriter based in Minneapolis and Denver. As a solo artist and with his band Rogue Valley, Chris has 16 albums under his belt and another one coming out this Friday. I was excited for the chance to talk songwriting with him!
Sarah: Hi Chris! It’s so lovely to get to chat with you! Congrats on your new Rogue Valley album, Shell Game! It sounds fantastic. I’ve long been a fan of your songwriting, both under your own name and within Rogue Valley, so I’d love to learn a bit more about the songs that have led you along on your journey as a writer. Do you remember the song that you heard that made you want to be a songwriter? Tell us about that song.
Chris: Well, the song that made me want to learn how to play music was Scott Joplin’s “The Entertainer.” I was in kindergarten and in awe over my teacher for rendering that big bulky wooden box into a dream machine that unlocked emotion and imagination. For songwriting…I’m less certain. But it would make sense if it was something from Meet The Beatles or the Moody Blues album Days Of Future Passed.
Sarah: OH YES, “The Entertainer”! I have such a profound memory of hearing that for the first time as a 6-year-old at a piano recital—one of the older students played it and I wanted to make those sounds with my own fingers so badly. Once you began writing, did you feel like a writer immediately? It took me a few years of writing before I believed it. Was there a song that gave you that “a-HA! I am a songwriter!” moment? Tell us about that song.
Chris: Definitely. I felt like I wasn’t writing but just making stuff up for a long time. Engaging earnestly, with purpose and emotion and refining to death sometimes, but most of what I wrote still felt unsettled and very adolescent. When I was working on creating my first solo album Exit Pesce, it coincided with me self-learning how to use some basic recording equipment. I never did too much tape 4-track stuff, but there are some lost and landfill harddrives out there from my HP Pavilion with evidence of those early tries.
There was a song—“Winning The Lottery”—that felt like my first “real” song as a songwriter. I felt like I was able to find the flow of the process and make conscious choices about what I sought to accomplish rather than the choices just making me.
Sarah: Yes, I can understand that step toward a sense of intentionality, of being able to wield the pen a bit, would lead to feeling a bit more comfortable with the “real song as a songwriter” idea. Where can we hear you sing that song (or any other song for that matter) in the near future?
Chris: Like a lot of earlier material, I don’t often perform those songs. Sometimes…and if someone in the audience lets me know, I’ll definitely try to wake up those old melodies. For now, you can hear it on Spotify. I think I have like one or two copies of the CD left. Whenever I think I’m completely out I somehow find another one, shrinkwrap still intact.
Sarah: And now you can sell it as a limited edition!
You have a few musical projects that you are a part of—your solo work, as well as the band Rogue Valley. I’m wondering if there was a specific song that you wrote that sparked the need or desire for that separate project? If so, can you tell us about that song?
Chris: Thanks for such a thoughtful question, Sarah! I steered away from my solo work for a while after I released my 2008 album The Dark Delirious Morning. It was great, and we got to headline First Avenue for the release to 700 or so ultra-enthusiastic local music lovers, and I honestly felt on top of the world! Nowhere to go but up! A week later, I remember playing a duo set at the 331 for like 15–20 people who just happened to be there nursing beers and didn’t really care about me, my music or my fragile sense of self-worth. I realized that the whole idea of trying to be a climber in this industry was going to destroy my joy and that nurturing an ego that’s so self-aggrandizing requires endless resources. That perspective seemed unsustainable and one that would drive me away from something I thought I loved.
I desired to engage in a project that would challenge my skills, vulnerability and vision—one where I wasn’t sure at the outset what it might become. During the first writing session I wrote a complete song in 45 minutes—a song that I actually really liked. And that kind of quick-writing approach was definitely not something I had done a lot of before. That song (“Bottom Of The Riverbed”) and “The Wolves And The Ravens” and a handful of others were born during a couple of late-night writing sessions where I started to get the sense of a differentiation between my solo work and whatever this next aesthetic would become.
Sarah: From the 700 listeners to the 15 beer nursers—that is an intense example of the pendulum shift many of us get to experience in this wild world we work in. I admire how thoughtfully you’ve processed it. It sounds like, ultimately, it led to new creative growth, and our listening ears out here are all the better for it! One last question: The final single off Shell Game, “Telephone Booth,” just released last Friday, in advance of this Friday’s album release. Can you tell us about that song?
Chris: Yes! So, I began writing Shell Game in the summer of 2018. But instead of just focusing on that body of work, I switched gears several times, completing my solo albums Sleepwalkers part 1 and part 2, releasing a collection of instrumental work called On Horseshoe Lake, and producing a trio of albums for my friend Mike Baran a.k.a. Alien of Nature.
When I finally turned my attention back to the new Rogue Valley album, it seemed as if it could use a few new additions to the original set of songs. “Telephone Booth” is a song that stands on its own but is built of callbacks, both musically and lyrically, from some of the other themes and sentiments on the album. I love making albums because it’s an opportunity to create and spend some time in a little universe populated with melodies, imagery and emotion that can all interact with one another. Listening to “Telephone Booth” is like peeking through the keyhole into the little universe that is Shell Game.
Sarah: Peeking through the keyhole! What a magical image to end our conversation with! Thank you, Chris, for sitting down with About That Song. And congrats again on Shell Game.
Shell Game comes out this Friday, October 13. Presave it today and celebrate with Rogue Valley (and opener Molly Maher) that night at Icehouse in Minneapolis!
Listen to “Telephone Booth”
Credits for Shell Game
Music / Lyrics - Chris Koza
Drums - Luke Anderson
Guitars - Peter Sieve + Chris Koza
Bass - Cody McKinney
Keys - Chris Koza
Vocals - Chris Koza, Linnea Mohn, Peter Sieve
Strings - Greg Byers
Mix - Kevin Bowe
Master - Bruce Templeton
Artwork - Chris Koza
AUTHOR: SARAH MORRIS
Sarah Morris is a superfan of songs and the people who write them, and a believer that certain songs can change your life. A singer-songwriter / mama / bread maker / coffee drinker who recently released her fifth album of original material, she’s been known to joyfully sing with people in her Big Green Bathroom.