Alex Woodard

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I had a record deal not long ago and they wrote this fancy bio, where it sounded like I was king of the world, destined for greatness, and somehow different from all the rest. I’m not. The truth is, my story isn’t any different from your story. The names might not be the same, the events probably took place on off days, and the exact times don’t quite line up. You call your experience one thing, I call it another. But at the end of the day, just after you close your eyes but before you fall asleep, I’m pretty sure your world takes on the same color as mine. Your struggles and triumphs are unique because they come from your voice. But the stories belong to all of us, all part of the same conversation, just with different names.

I write songs about that conversation, but what I’m really trying to do is find a connection to you… to build a bridge across this great divide of everyday living and somehow draw a line between us. Sometimes it’s like there’s this clothesline strung between two buildings somewhere in south Chicago, with shirts and pants and socks waving in the wind that weaves its way off the lake and through the maze of concrete and steel. At one end of the line there’s a window, behind which lives a world of holidays, proms, and first loves, and at the other end of the line is another window, behind which there’s a world of broken hearts, missed opportunities, and loss. And in between those two windows there’s the line, which those worlds share everyday, where what’s most personal to them is hung out to dry. I guess I write about that line.

I live with my dog Stella in a small beach town north of San Diego, where I’m producing a benefit project with the voices of Nickel Creek, Shawn Mullins, Jack Tempchin, and other great writers. We’re taking people’s letters and writing songs about them for release this Christmas.