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In A Lifetime

Chapter One

To my children, Hatcher, Easton and Jordan

Richmond, Virginia — Mid Nineties

It was almost christmas and I was 28. A rusty autumn had abruptly ushered in the winter and I could smell wood burning in fireplaces as I got into my Ford Explorer. Coran Capshaw, Dave’s manager, had set up my first guitar lesson on my way home for the holidays. I planned to stop at Dave’s house in Charlottesville, then go to my mom’s in Clifton Forge, my hometown nestled in the Alleghany Mountains.

Christmas decorations adorned cozy homes as I headed west towards Virginia’s Piedmont. A clear and cold December sky kept me company along the way. I had made this trek hundreds of times before but the lesson to come made this trip special. Dave Matthews was still somewhat unknown but I knew the world would some day embrace his music. Dave’s amazing talent and the support that he had from Coran, his loyal and savvy manager were a winning combination. Great things awaited them both and I was thrilled to have one on one time with Dave.

I arrived at 524 8th Street a little before two, the appointed time for my lesson. The house was a rental. Dogs behind the fence next door barked loudly as I stepped onto the porch with my guitar. I knocked but there was no answer. The door was unlocked so I opened it and eased into the den. “Hello, anybody home?” I yelled.

The setting was bacheloresque. Scattered drinking glasses on the floor and coffee table made me think Dave and his roommates did their dishes as much as I did. I sat on a piece of cargo furniture, opened my guitar case and started messing around on my acoustic. “How did I get here?” I thought.

Two years ago I was a big firm lawyer working long hours and playing no music. Now I played as
much as I practiced law. My mind drifted.

Four years earlier, I had earned my law degree and gone the whole nine yards: law journal, published, high-class rank, and three American Jurisprudence Awards. I was 24 and hungry to make money after three years of studying hard and being poor. I accepted a high salary with the prestigious Richmond law firm, McGuire, Woods, Battle & Boothe. My area of practice was products liability litigation. My job was to defend companies that supplied products which may have contained asbestos. I defended them against claims from people who alleged personal injuries from asbestos exposure.

A year and a half later and much to my parents chagrin, I decided to leave the Firm. I had billed more than 300 hours the month I decided to leave and felt overwhelmed by my job. We were defending a company against a lawsuit filed in New York City by an electrician. He had contracted mesothelioma, a type of cancer predominantly associated with exposure to asbestos. The survival rate is almost nonexistent and along with my interest in products liability law, Saul Didner died months before trial. The jury cut our client loose and I cut myself loose from long hours and a job that consumed me. It wasn’t the case or the Firm that turned me off, but rather I was simply questioning my life, my direction and my purpose. I had no regrets starting my legal career at McGuire Woods and my training there was exceptional. I had made great friends at the Firm but I missed playing music in clubs and wondered if other areas of the law might be more suited to my personality.

On April 30, 1991, I left the Firm with good reviews on my legal work but I had another path to pursue. I didn’t know where it would lead but it was a chance I needed to take. The next day, I boarded a plane for two Grateful Dead shows in Sacramento, California. I started listening to the Dead in college and always found their live musical experience offered sanctuary to ponder life’s crossroads. I had last seen them in October of 1989, two months after I had started with the Firm. I left for the show from the office in suit pants and a button-down shirt, my jacket and tie quickly discarded in the backseat. I arrived during the first song as teenagers in their newly acquired tye dyes rolled their eyes at my attire. I guess I became “cool” when they had to ask me the name of each song once it was over. For these California shows, I left the suit at home and welcomed the first days of the rest of my life.
When I returned to Richmond, I took a break from lawyering and played acoustic guitar in clubs and restaurants for my primary source of income. I played many of these gigs with my close college friend Jessica Space (now Jessica Salomonsky). Jess is a stunning hazel-eyed woman with a soulful voice. In college, she suffered through my early dorm-room guitar playing when I was 17. Little did I know then that I would eventually ask Jess to play hundreds of gigs with me and to sing on this record. Jess sings harmonies on tracks 5 and 8, Back To You and Sisters.

During the next two years, I played four to five times a week in Virginia and North Carolina. Thank-fully, gigs were plentiful in town and I learned how to live on the road when I traveled. I slept on lots of floors and couches. I discovered it was important to wipe down my equipment especially during the summer months, and that the putrid smell of fermented beer in your car teaches powerful lessons. Eventually, the road life and late nights lost their mystique. I began to travel less and to play in town more. I simultaneously opened a small law office in my row house in the Fan, a beautiful and historic part of Richmond. The office was in my house or the house in my office. The order depended on what I was doing at the time. Any case that walked in the door became my area of practice. It was difficult to be on my own but I worked hard. My law practice income supplemented the music as opposed to the expected inverse. Cases were sparse but almost everything that came my way, seemed to go well because of hard work and thorough preparation. I was exposed to all kinds of people and legal situations.

People with traffic problems often approached me at gigs so I started defending traffic cases, now my area of expertise. “Do you handle drunk driving cases?” “Yeah, I guess,” I would say. I also handled civil matters as well. In one of my first cases, I defended a death claim for workers’ compensation benefits. My client was a mom-and-pop contracting company whose insurance had lapsed. One of their workers was electrocuted and his mother and estranged wife decided to sue. The plaintiff lawyers were older and more experienced than me, but I turned over every rock in preparation for trial. From the autopsy report to the worker’s financial habits, I continued to dig until I found the crucial piece of evidence that won the case. Other cases were less flattering. My first and last domestic case introduced me to a man with three wives. I still can’t tell you what I was able to accomplish for him. He obviously accomplished a great deal before he got to me. You name it, I did it. And I learned from it.

Although I wore the lawyer and musician hats, I had more personal time then ever. I didn’t have a lot of money but life was good. I was now spending more time with my girlfriend and your mom, Michelle Medick. I met her the same month I started at McGuire Woods. I saw her in the Stonewall Cafe and stopped dead in my tracks. She was 21, beautiful, petite with blue-green eyes and blond hair. I was kind of intimidated but got her number anyway. The number didn’t work, although to this day she blames me for not being able to read her writing. Undeterred, I spent a week walking the area on Park Avenue where she said she lived. When I caught another glimpse of her, it was all over. I chased her for days (she says weeks) until she would go out with me. Now, fifteen years later she is just as beautiful and we chase the three of you. Chasing her was less exhausting.
I also spent a great deal of time with my dad after I left the Firm. We had a lot of lost time to make up for given his workaholic lifestyle and my long hours. While your grandfather thought I was crazy to leave a secure position, he encouraged me to build my law practice and he loved to come to my gigs. My Dad was nothing short of an extrovert and many times at 3:00 a.m. I would have to stop him from talking to the soundman so all of us could go home. We caught up on a lifetime during those two years and I have always thanked God for that time. He died from a massive stroke in May of 1993, less than two months after I told him about this amazing singer songwriter I’d met named Dave Matthews.

I met Dave at a soundcheck in March of 1993. Jessica and I were playing in a band called Acoustic Fun and we were opening for the Dave Matthews Band at our Alma Mater, the University of Richmond. I had heard of Dave but was unfamiliar with his music. Everyone said his band was amazing and that Dave’s guitar, vocal and song writing styles were unique and contagious. The rhythm section was rumored to be explosive. The instrumentation described as unorthodox with violin and saxophone accompanying Dave’s acoustic rhythms beautifully juxtaposed to his vocal melodies. I had not yet seen him play his weekly shows at Trax or the Flood Zone because of my own gigs. Jess and I were wasting time before soundcheck with my acoustic when this sleepy-eyed guy in a toboggan walked up to us.

“Hi, I’m David,” he said. “Can I see your guitar?”

“Sure,” I said.

He noodled on my guitar and hummed a melody. His eyebrows met the edge of the toboggan as he played. Before he began each noodle or lick, he would say, “I’m not a very good guitar player.” He was certainly better than me, I thought, and I nodded gratuitously as if to say, I don’t believe you but if you want me to agree I will. We passed the guitar around for about ten minutes, said our good-byes and David left to sleep a little before the show.

We opened the show in the early afternoon and I ran to our next gig, a high school dance, to set up. After my second sound check of the day, I grabbed a quick bite and hurried back to campus to see David before I had to play the high school dance. When I walked into the arena, the second band, Indecision, had finished and David took the stage. By the second song, the Band had blown me away. I was in awe of the music, of the sound, of the vocals — of the dynamic between each and every instrument and musician in the band. The connection with the audience electrified the room. I was amazed by the audience’s, including my own, reaction to the music. My feet and body seemed to move before my brain could engage. The last time I had experienced something similar was when I first heard Jerry Garcia play his guitar in the Hampton Coliseum. I didn’t get to see the end of David’s show. Instead, I had to play Sweet Home Alabama to a couple of hundred teenagers and stomach their shout-outs for Free Bird. When I left the Robins Center, I promised myself that when I had a night off from playing, I would go see the Dave Matthews Band again.

Sometime that fall, I got a call from Coran. He had been referred to me and asked me if I could help Dave with a couple of speeding tickets. I was happy to help. I loved Dave’s music and was honored that Coran had called me. And besides, I really needed the money. I reviewed the tickets that Coran faxed and noted the court dates in my calendar. I asked Coran to have Dave meet me at my office and we would drive to court together.

Dave showed up at the house with his friend, Julian, who was visiting from South Africa. He introduced me to Julian and I offered to drive everyone. On the way to the courthouse, we stopped at a convenience store for a drink. Dave got some papaya juice contraption and realized that he had no money when the lady rang him up.

“Can you lend me some money?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said, laughing to myself at the struggling lawyer helping out the successful musician. We continued to court and I discussed strategy. Dave looked at Julian and joked, “Julian, don’t sit next to me in court and then you start acting like a lunatic. After court’s over, I will embrace you as I leave.” Dave looked at me. “I am just joking, you know,” he said.

“I know,” I said comfortably as I laughed to myself. “What a goof,” I thought. I couldn’t help but laugh again.

We walked away from court with a dismissal and ate lunch at what was probably the only Italian restaurant in town. On our way back to Richmond, I talked to Dave about his Remember Two Things record. I had been wearing out the disc by playing it so much. We talked about some songs: Ants, Recently, Tripping Billies and the Christmas Song. He answered my questions and gave me the songs’ origins with commentary here and there. I thought Recently was about an interracial couple but Dave said he had written it about an old girlfriend fond of public displays of affection. It was intriguing to get inside the writer’s head and Dave was such a down to earth person. As we got close to Richmond, I asked Dave if he would be willing to give me three guitar lessons.

“That’s it?” he said.

“You’re going to be on the cover of Rolling Stone someday,” I replied. “And even if you aren’t, you ought to be.”
“It’s a deal,” he said. “I’ll ask Coran to call you.”

Some weeks later Coran called and asked me to be at Dave’s house at 2 pm. He gave me directions and I wrote them in my Day Planner. “He doesn’t do this kind of thing for everyone,” Coran added. “He likes you. He thinks you’re sincere. That’s why he wants to do this.” I thanked Coran and hung up the phone. I closed my Day Planner and picked up my guitar. I was trying to learn the Christmas Song, an acoustic ballad and the last numbered track on Remember Two Things. It was a beautiful and novel interpretation of the life of Jesus. I had discussed it with Dave and was intrigued by his account of how the song was created and when he first played it. Now here I was in his den.

Dave interrupted my daydream when he entered the house. His hands were full. He had some CD’s for me and a Remember Two Things poster. He greeted me warmly and offered me hot tea. We went into the kitchen and he washed out two mugs sitting in the sink. On the way back to the den, he pointed to some mini blinds.

“You see these?” he said. “I installed them,” he boasted proudly. “I haven’t been around much and my roommates say that I never do anything around here but I put up these mini blinds.”

I acknowledged the accomplishment without sarcasm. I had just installed seven mini blinds in your mom’s apartment and it was not fun. “They look good,” I replied.

“Let’s get started,” he said.“How do you want to do this?”

He was very serious and I appreciated it. I worked hard for him and he, in kind, was reciprocating. “How about the Christmas Song?” I said. “I really like that song but I don’t get exactly what you’re doing with your fingers to get that half-step slide sound.”

“O.K., great,” he said.

Dave picked up his guitar and with mine in hand, we began to play the song together very slowly. He showed me the root chord, where his fingers went and which strings to pluck. He was getting the half step slide sound by placing his index finger one-half step above the root and then sliding it down quickly. I have never been that great of a guitar player, yet I was not intimidated. He was so laid-back. His humor could make anyone feel at ease. We continued to play the song over and over until he thought we had maximized our time.
Next we worked on Recently. We played it together until I was comfortable. He watched me play it alone and pointed out any problems I was having with the notes or the rhythm. The finger stretches in that song, especially in the intro, were longer than those to which I had been accustomed. Dave suggested that I continue to practice them because they could open new doors for me to chord progression in these unique configurations. He quickly showed me the chords to Tripping Billes. The last two songs I learned were The Song that Jane Likes and I’ll Back You Up.

At the end of the lesson, Dave charted out some songs that we went over, signed the poster and wrote little anecdotes on the CD’s he had given me. I thanked him for everything and continued west towards the mountains of Alleghany County. It was my first Christmas with my mom without my dad, a hybrid of joy and sadness. The birthdays, anniversaries and holidays really draw attention to who’s missing. Although my father’s absence weighed heavily upon us, I enjoyed the time with my family and my guitar. In between family time, I worked on the tunes I had practiced with Dave and thought about my Dad.

After Christmas, I returned to Richmond to ring in the New Year with Michelle and settled back into my daily routine. The months passed and my guitar stayed close to me when it was not in my hands. One day I played the Christmas Song’s second chord configuration on the seventh fret and liked what I heard. I followed with another chord an entire step down and moved my index finger a half step down into an A followed by G, B minor back to A. The music of In a Lifetime was born. I hummed experimental melodies with the chords during the next few weeks. I wrote lyrics and refined them over the next month. The second verse wrote itself when something inside overtook my consciousness. Although the lyrics have meant different things to different people, the song, at least for me, represents the instances of rebirth and resurrection in our lifetimes. I had been on the fast track for so long that I began to lose sight of what was really important. Is life something we really have to master? The big law firm offered an irreplaceable experience as a young lawyer but it did not make me happy at that time in my life. I wanted to play music and to perform. I wanted to practice in all areas of law to see which one best suited my interests and my demeanor.

We all go through times where we question our direction and we want to bring about change. In a Lifetime attempts to capture that experience. I wanted to love my life, not tolerate it. I wanted to embrace the best perspective on what I faced every day. I wanted to greet every morning with enthusiasm and vigor; to constantly appreciate opening my eyes to each sunrise for a new experience that I hoped would make me a wiser and better person. It didn’t matter if I succeeded or failed. Failures often bring more growth to us than our successes.

Nearly two years passed after the guitar lesson with Dave and I had written over fifteen songs, eight of which are on this record. All of them are fueled with the enthusiasm and zest that I took into and brought away from that lesson. It was clearly the most creative time of my life thus far and I promised myself that I would record the tunes. My enthusiasm surged when I would talk to your mom or anyone else about recording. The more I talked, the more I realized that all I was doing was talking.

September 2001 – Richmond, Virginia

Eight years passed from my lesson with Dave and I was no closer to recording. My professional success caused me to drift back to the fast track that led me to write In a Lifetime (and I wasn’t complaining with a two-year-old and newborn twins). I had focused on criminal and traffic law and my law firm grew to become one of the most successful traffic defense firms in Virginia. I emerged as an expert in drunk driving and traffic law and began teaching it to lawyers and judges throughout the state. Legal periodicals and reporters began to call on me as a source. If that wasn’t enough, God blessed me with a beautiful wife and you three beautiful children. The twins were born when Hatcher was two and a half. With a busy law practice, three kids in diapers and three gigs a month, recording was, I told myself, “Something that I would get to one of these days”.

The next song on the Disc, Feel Like, is chronologically the last song that I wrote of the 10. I wish I never had to write Feel Like but the reason why I did is why you are listening to this CD and reading these words. I am convinced that if the events that precipitated Feel Like had not occurred, this project would not have become a reality. Feel Like made this project happen.

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