“Eight years ago, I played in a show with Abe Partridge.  I didn’t know Abe back then, but at the end of the show, he told me, ‘Stop singing other people’s songs. Sing your own.’ I didn’t listen to him back then.

My band, Camm Lewis and the Live Oaks, started at the same time as the Red Clay Strays and played at the same venues. Our band had some rough gigs. Loaded up and drove over for one across the bay. It was in a motel with caution tape on one side. A murder had just happened. We said, ‘We’re here. Let’s play our hearts out.’

The band didn’t work out. I did solo stuff for a while, but no one wanted to hear my songs. They just wanted to hear ‘Neon Moon.’ I’d get home at 11 p.m. then get up at 4 a.m. and work all day. Everything was on my wife, Cassie, to raise our three young kids. It wasn’t worth it. I got out of the rat race and quit playing in public.

I still played at home every night and at church on Sunday–just like my family has done for generations. My first cousin played in a bluegrass band so famous in Canada that there’s a highway named after them; he’s a preacher now. My daddy’s a drummer and a singer. My grandpa was a musician and played at his house for friends every night. My grandma’s daddy and brothers had a band that played in honky tonks. A lot of them wrote songs.

I love hearing family stories and reading books like Lonesome Dove–my goal is to be a storyteller through songwriting. The first time I tried this, I was in my mid-twenties. Cassie and I were struggling, and I couldn’t write from that place. I didn’t know who I was and wasn’t willing to be vulnerable. At 35, I’m still trying to figure that out, but I’ve become more comfortable in myself: what I stand for and believe in. It’s a lot easier to write like that. But I was scared that people wouldn’t like it or would see me in a negative way.

I deal with depression and anxiety, like most people. Writing songs on paper is my therapy and gives me a chance to be more honest, saying things I don’t know how to say. I write songs knowing I may never play them in front of anyone. Or, play them for months until I feel I have something. Cassie helps me work it out.

When I write, I think about my family; most of my songs come from there. I love looking back and thinking about how life was for me growing up. It’s where my brain goes when I sing.

When I turned 18, I went to junior college to play baseball. I was there for about five months, but ended up getting married with a kid on the way. Got a job with my daddy at the shipyard.  He picked me up at 3:45 every morning. He honked the horn, and we went to work. He listened to music on the way, had a great time. I was on the other side of the truck, contemplating life. We stopped by the same gas station every morning; he would get breakfast, and I would throw up in the parking lot. That was how much I hated this. He’d get back in the car and say, ‘You’ll get used to it.’ Well, I’ve been getting up early for a long time and ain’t never got used to it. I wrote the song ‘Juco King’ about it.

Back home I was a juco king/A gut full of pride with a head full of steam/Six months later I was clocking in the same dang place my Daddy did/You can’t go cheap on a pair of work boots and 4 a.m. you don’t get used to/The babies come and the bills do too/But that don’t leave you with much to choose

A little over a year ago, John Thompson (JT), the owner of Callaghan’s, asked me to open for someone. I told him no. I wasn’t confident enough. Didn’t want to do it. He said, ‘I’m not going to force you into anything you aren’t comfortable with, but I don’t understand it.’ That was eye-opening. Told myself if JT ever gave me another opportunity, I was taking it.

Opening for Gabe Lee last December was the next opportunity. I said yes. Practiced my set and what I would say between songs every night for two weeks. I got to Callaghan’s way too early because my family gets places much earlier than we’re supposed to. I walked up and down the street. Called Cassie and told her I wasn’t doing this. She told me to chill out and go in there and play music.

That night, stepping out of my comfort zone and playing my own songs was a life-changing experience. Now, people come to hear my songs. It’s weird seeing them sing along or write me messages saying they cry to the words. But I’m learning a lot of people are going through hard times and crave songs like mine that make them feel something.

I think all of this means I’m in a better place for music this time around. I see my friends Abe and The Red Clay Strays having success, but I never dreamed that would be an option for me. I thought I would always be playing cover songs at restaurants. Now, a set list of songs I wrote is on the wall at Callaghan’s along with pictures of Jason Isbell, Justin Towns Earl, John Paul White, Grayson Capps, and all of the great folks who played there.

I’m at peace with whatever happens next. I work full-time and have a good career, which takes the pressure off making money from music. A couple of weeks ago, I took a chance and put out an EP of a few songs. An album will happen when it is supposed to, as long as I keep my priorities straight.

The last year of music has been so much fun and trumped the last decade. I’m a blessed, blessed man.”

Camm

Camm plays at Callaghan’s tonight at 7 p.m.

Screenshot