Hi James, thanks for taking the time to speak with us. What was your real entry point into the music industry- the moment it stopped being “making music” and became “building a career”?
Hi! Thank you for having me! I attended Bowdoin College in Brunswick, Maine, where I played on the men’s varsity ice hockey team. Coming from a big city like Toronto, I had a hard time adapting to a small town and a very different way of life. But through that discomfort, I also found something creatively inspiring about living in rural Maine, so far away from home. As such, I channeled that inspiration by writing music. I did a lot of traveling during that time, too, either for team road games or to visit family and friends on the East Coast. Whether I was in and out of Logan Airport and South Station in Boston or riding the Concord Trailways bus through the many small New England towns, I always seemed to be on the road. Twenty-three years later, and I can still remember that eerie yet intriguing feeling of standing in Market Square in Portsmouth, New Hampshire – waiting on a cold fall Sunday night for the bus to wheel me back up the I-95 N and I-295 N for exit 28 towards Brunswick. I took in a lot of the interesting sights and sounds along the way, and they very much inspired growth in my songwriting, which I was starting to take more seriously. During my Senior year, I signed up with a performing rights organization – SOCAN (with BMI representation in the US) to register my songs and to hopefully one day collect royalties. That was the moment I decided I wanted to be a professional songwriter and music publisher, and it was the first step I needed to take to make that dream a reality.
What was the first hard lesson you learned about the industry that nobody warns artists about (money, gatekeepers, timing, ego, admin)?
The Hollowbodies played an album release show for ‘Town Without a Name’ at the Drake Hotel in Toronto. It was a sold-out concert and our first big one in the downtown area, too! The energy in the room was electric, and I remember feeling such an adrenaline rush performing original songs to a loud venue at max capacity. When we closed out the set, the crowd cheered as the house music came on, and we started packing up our gear. That’s when people were coming on stage and telling us how much they enjoyed the show, including one well-known industry figure named Bob Segarini. He was a songwriter and musician himself, dating back to the sixties when he started his writing and recording career in California, opening for bands such as the Doors, The Grateful Dead, and Jefferson Airplane. Originally from San Francisco, Bob even wrote with Harry Nilsson and later made his way up to Canada. Known for his rambunctiousness, he eventually went into broadcasting and penned a column about the music industry too. Bob passed away a few years ago, but at the time, he was unexpectedly at our show, walked on stage, and started introducing himself to the band. He praised our set and offered us a slot to perform at a showcase he was hosting the following Tuesday. We gladly accepted, and as soon as he walked away, I naively remember thinking, “Wow, this is it, this is our ticket!”
I should have known better by the fact it was on a Tuesday! The gig turned out to be at Monarch’s Pub at the Chelsea Hotel in downtown Toronto. When we arrived for load-in and sound check, we realized we were the only band performing that night, and Bob never even made it to the gig himself. It was an unpaid job, and after the sound check, we sat at the bar where we were given a 50% discount on food. As we sat there, eating dinner in a hotel in our own city – gear all set up in the background, our drummer turned to us and said, “Boys, we made it! We’re on tour!”
We all had a good laugh! Even though we initially felt a bit misled and played to a room of only a few people, Bob actually delivered on what he promised. It was me who got carried away in thinking it was going to be something more than it was, because that’s what I was hoping for. It was a reminder that things aren’t always going to go the way you think they are, especially in the music industry. And that’s okay, because everything happens for a reason and there’s always something that can be taken away from each experience.
Although there was a fleeting moment of disappointment, we were thankful for our half-priced wings, another gig, and a chance to hone our craft. Ironically, the sound at the venue was unbelievable, and it was fun to play, even to an empty bar! Maybe in a strange twist, it was Bob’s way of providing us a valuable lesson, so thanks Bob!
Who were the mentors that shaped your path, and what did they teach you that you still rely on when decisions get complicated?
Shannon McNevan is one of my mentors and also happens to be a close friend. He also went to Bowdoin College and played with me on the men’s varsity ice hockey team. Shannon has always been a champion of my music ever since I showed him one of my earliest songs, ‘Buck and a Half’. He also produced one of my first gigs – an acoustic show in his living room on Cleveland Street in Brunswick, Maine. I performed an acoustic set of mostly originals with my friend Andrew to a room full of Bowdoin hockey players and other students, too. I remember the room was packed and everyone was sitting cross-legged on the floor. If there were a photo laying around, it might look something like that famous image of Joni Mitchell playing to David Crosby and Eric Clapton in Laurel Canyon, just with a lot more people, and inside a house of college kids on the opposite coast. I’m not sure how many other college hockey teams sat cross-legged on the floor while listening to their teammate perform original folk and Americana songs, so it definitely felt unique!
At the time, no one really played living rooms either until many years later when it became a trend. Shannon has always been ahead of his time, which made a lot of sense since he started the Boots & Hearts and Wayhome music festivals in Canada. He also went on to create Starseed Entertainment – a music management company and he’s someone that I can always turn to for advice and support. He’s an incredibly optimistic guy that just finds a way to get things done. I think his optimism creates the positive energy to make his visions come to life, so he’s taught me to think positively in complicated times and to dream big! If I told Shannon I wanted to become an Astronaut, he would probably say something like, “That’s awesome Jimmy!” (Everyone who knew me in the US called me Jimmy). “Let me know how I can help!” If you ever have a lofty dream, adding Shannon to your team will surely get you there!
When did you realise your taste had outgrown your skill — and what did you do, practically, to close that gap?
When I first started recording music, it was around 2002. My cousin Jesse Gadon and I were recording on a program called Cool Edit Pro, which later turned into Adobe Audition. It was long before I started using Pro Tools and then eventually Logic Pro, but we were mostly learning how to track by trial and error. The first song I ever wrote with him was called ‘Clear Driver’ and is a number about someone who passes away in a car accident. I was just a teenager at the time, and first learning how to craft a song. That one in particular was fiction-based, and I have no recollection of where the melancholic idea came from, but Jesse and I would play around with tracking songs together, including reflective-based instrumentals.
A year later, while I was at Bowdoin, I started recording in spaces around campus and trying different techniques I had heard on records I loved. I also didn’t know how to properly use my voice, and as an avid Neil Young fan, I sang falsetto to get up in that really high range of Neil’s. When I listen back to some of those recordings, it’s hard not to shake my head and laugh because I don’t have the same vocal tone as Neil Young! But even as bad as some of that stuff was, there were little bits of things I would do here and there – either lyrics, licks or solos that sounded really cool to me. So, I knew somewhere in the clutter, there was potential; I just had to learn how to get better and find my own voice as opposed to trying to emulate someone else’s. That came with time, patience, and a desire to learn by reading books on recording techniques and leaning into what makes me, me.
When YouTube came around, I constantly watched videos on different ways to record and edit – how to group edit drums, how to arpeggiate synthesizers, how to best record an acoustic guitar, how to bus, etc. etc. The list goes on, especially in making electronic music, which I do too. Eventually, you learn, improve, and acquire better gear, and that can help bridge the gap. What I love about recording is that there really isn’t an end to learning, or a point where you’ve completely conquered the craft. There is always something new to learn or different techniques to try, so in a way, it doesn’t get stale.
Six placements across two seasons of Resident Aliens are rare. What do you think the showrunner/music team was responding to in your work— sound, emotional accuracy, reliability, or something else?
I pitched a lot of music to Chris Sheridan (the showrunner of Resident Alien) and from a wide variety of genres in my catalog too. He ended up gravitating towards mostly Americana/Country Folk songs of mine and The Hollowbodies. The show has a rural feel to it, and the songs he ended up liking were very much in that realm. There were two songs in particular that I made sure to include in the pitch. ‘Old Familiar Face’ by The Hollowbodies was one of the songs. I played on the song and co-produced it with my bandmate Andrew Ioi, but he wrote that one about an old man who lived by the lake near his cottage. The other song, ‘Ballad of a Traveling Man,’ was one I wrote about my own life. My wife and I travel a lot for work, and as such, stay for short periods of time in many different places. When doing so, we get to know a lot of new people, but then have to pick up and leave. In one sense, it’s nice to have so many new experiences, but on the other hand, it can be really quite sad because I’m constantly in and out of people’s lives. The main character in Resident Alien, ‘Harry Vanderspeigle’ as played by Alan Tudyk, is an alien who crash lands in Patience, Colorado. He’s often seen wandering or traveling in the show, so a song about someone traveling felt like it could work. And sure enough it did!
‘1983’ and ‘Scenes’ are different than the others I licensed. They are more rock and alternative-based. ‘1983’ was used in Season 3, Episode 7 in an exterior scene of The 59 bar as the alien baby goes inside. I’m not sure what the appeal was for that particular tune, but it’s always been a crowd favorite for The Hollowbodies. To me, it’s a bit reminiscent of the band, ‘Sloan’, and has such a fun, driving bass line that Marc Rogers recorded for us when we tracked with him at his studio. And ‘Scenes’ is a slow, reflective number that feels cinematic, so perhaps that was what piqued Chris’ interest. In addition to co-producing it, I played a guitar lick on that one with a Gretsch and a tremolo pedal to add twang.
You’ve said sync is about serving the story first. Can you describe a time you had to sacrifice a “cool” musical idea because it didn’t serve the scene — and what that taught you about restraint?
I scored an episode of a television show for the Movie Network called ‘Reelside’, a documentary series about the creative process of Canadian filmmakers. My sister Sarah Gadon directed the episode about her creative relationship with photographer Caitlin Cronenberg. I scored the episode with just an acoustic guitar, exploring different tunings and picking styles. For one of the cues, I recorded a stripped-down version of a song I wrote called ‘Shape & Color’. The Hollowbodies played it live for our 2013 show at The Hugh’s Room in Toronto, but it was a bit of an obscure song of mine that was never really performed a whole lot. It’s a bit reminiscent of the Kings of Leon, and I really wanted to record a full band version of the song to use in the episode. However, in keeping with the acoustic consistency, I just recorded the stripped-down instrumental. It taught me that despite my preference, the audience doesn’t know there’s an alternative version, so using something that fits the overall direction of the episode worked best. I still really believe in that song, and it’s a very personal one too, so I hope I can eventually record a more fully produced version of it with drums.
Your solo tracks were mastered by Emily Lazar and mixed by Dani Bennett Spragg; the band tracks by Noah Mintz and Dan Branco. What did those collaborations reveal about your music when it’s heard at the highest professional level?
I’ve been very blessed to work with talented engineers who believe in my work. Whether it be with The Hollowbodies, my electronic pop duo Sunrise in the Desert, or my solo music, I’m grateful any time someone compliments what I’m doing and wants to collaborate. I met Dan Branco when we worked together at an audio and production house in Toronto called Pirate Entertainment, and he mixed the first two albums by The Hollowbodies as well as the first EP by Sunrise in the Desert. Dan was really committed in helping us achieve our vision for The Hollowbodies’ albums. We tracked the drums for ‘Town Without a Name’ and ‘When The Lights Go Out’ at TA2 and Eggplant Studios, respectively in Toronto, while also recording some of the overdubs for the latter at Eggplant too. The Hollowbodies mixes were fun to collaborate on because Dan, Andrew Ioi, and I were in the studio, revising mixes in person too so we had a lot of memorable late-night sessions. And with Noah Mintz, he’s so incredibly knowledgeable and passionate about sound, and such an amazing mastering engineer too. He mastered both of the albums by The Hollowbodies as well as the first EP for Sunrise in the Desert, so it’s definitely an honor to be a part of his credits.
‘Ballad of a Traveling Man’ and ‘Long Way to California’ were both mixed by Dani Bennett Spragg. She also mixed a protest song of mine that’s yet to be mastered or released, called ‘Open Letter’. Dani is based in England, and it’s the first time I had a song mixed by someone in another country. She’s an incredibly gifted, award-winning recording and mixing engineer who has worked with artists such as Malena Zavala and Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds, and I like that she uses outboard gear to add extra warmth. And with Emily Lazar – to have someone like that even hear my music, let alone work on it – someone with credits including Lady Gaga, Maggie Rogers, Haim, Beck, and Coldplay, is incredibly rewarding. I’m grateful that both Dani and Emily have taken an interest in working with me and have given me an opportunity to be a part of their bodies of work too.
When you’re writing for film/TV, what changes first — harmony, tempo, lyric perspective, arrangement, or sonic palette?
It really varies. For me, tempo and arrangement are at the forefront a lot of the time. However, if I’m writing a piece for a specific pitch, I’ll often think of the lyric first. For instance, I was watching the NHL playoffs one year and thought of a song for the opening Hockey Night in Canada montage with the theme of wanting to be better for your teammates. The lyric, ‘Better For You,’ came to mind, and the melody and lyrics naturally followed suit. I recorded the song with The Hollowbodies and then two years later, licensed it for a nationwide sync advertisement about Team Canada at the 2018 PyeongChang Olympics. It didn’t make it into Hockey Night in Canada, but the montage featured Canadian Olympic athletes, so it still landed in the world of sports, nonetheless!
What never changes?
I think it depends on the purpose. If it’s a work-for-hire composition, then I’m open to doing whatever the Director and/or Music Supervisor wants – changing the song or cue in as many ways as needed – tempo, key, alternative lyrics, full band, stripped down etc. But if it’s a pre-recorded song that hasn’t been released and I’m pitching it for sync, I might change certain things up, such as tailoring the lyrics to fit the brief, or by adding certain instruments/sounds. However, I might not want to submit a particular song at all and keep it for myself as a release that doesn’t have anything to do with film and television placements. There are certain songs I like that just exist on their own without any other associations. But then again, you never know where that song could end up down the road, as there’s always a possibility someone might want to sync it.
How do you train yourself to identify the true emotional tone of a scene — especially when it’s layered (funny but sad, triumphant but uneasy)? What’s your process for getting it right?
I do more licensing than composing in a work-for-hire sense, but sometimes I get briefs from music supervisors where there is a bit of time to compose for what they are looking for or to make tweaks to already existing compositions that haven’t yet been released. I received a brief for Season 2 of the NBC television show, ‘Good Girls’, and one of the directions they were going for was “Serious and slow with an epic build.” At the time, I was working on a song called ‘Better Days’ with Tan Ciyiltepe, my writing and producing partner in Sunrise in the Desert, that fit this description. It has a very slow build with a darker tone. I was able to make a few tweaks and perform a temp mix and master before I pitched the song. Sure enough, we received confirmation that they wanted to use it in a closing scene. If I were scoring that scene, my approach to the direction would have been similar to how Better Days was produced. The version in the show is the one I mixed and mastered, but we had Mike Rocha and Joao Carvalho mix and master the officially released song, respectively, for the digital retailers. The song ended up being very prominently featured in the episode and is our most consumed one to date.
Sometimes I’ll compose something I think fits a scene and then, after a bit of time passes, realize I need to make adjustments or start from scratch. This happened a few times when I was composing music for a docuseries I produced with my wife, Sarah Podemski. There were a lot of tweaks and changes made to get it to where we wanted. It’s tedious but also fun and can feel like a challenging puzzle.
You mentioned Town Without a Name deep cuts getting rediscovered through sync. How did that experience change your relationship with your back catalogue — and does it change how you write albums now?
Town Without a Name was a very ambitious undertaking for a debut album. There were fifteen songs, almost enough for a double album. And of the deep cuts, ‘Old Familiar Face’ and ‘Scenes’ were the ones that landed in Resident Alien. As I touched on earlier, I co-produced and played guitar on them, but those two were written by my bandmate Andrew Ioi. I remember Andrew feeling a little unsure of including ‘Old Familiar Face’ on the album when we were tracking the song, partly because it was a long one (6:20) with a very slow build, so it felt like it might get easily skipped. But I encouraged him to keep the song for the release because it contained a very specific and personal story. It was about an older man, almost like a grandfather figure, who used to take Andrew fishing at his cottage. As he aged, his cottage became run down, and then eventually someone else bought the property and neglected it to the point where the roof almost caved in. It was melancholic because everyone from the lake missed having him around and the sight of his old house was a tough reminder that he was no longer there. In Resident Alien, Harry lives in a cabin on the water, and I thought there were some parallels to the two stories so I decided to pitch the song. It’s not one I pitch often because it doesn’t fit a lot of the briefs I receive, and its lyrics are obviously specific – with mentions of Barrie Harbour and being together when the news about Princess Diana’s death broke. But sure enough, it landed in the show and gave new life to the song.
I don’t think it changes how we write or produce albums. Sometimes those weirdly long and specific songs find unique audiences, even if it takes 14 years! I also think people sometimes enjoy listening to songs that aren’t as popular as the others in an artist’s catalog. It’s almost like a little secret that can seem more attractive because not everyone out there is listening to it and it’s not overplayed on the radio.
Sync is creative but, presumably, it’s also paperwork, metadata, splits, and deliverables. What systems or habits have you built to stay professional and fast — and how has that reliability impacted opportunities?
Town Without a Name was a very ambitious undertaking for a debut album. There were fifteen songs, almost enough for a double album. And of the deep cuts, ‘Old Familiar Face’ and ‘Scenes’ were the ones that landed in Resident Alien. As I touched on earlier, I co-produced and played guitar on them, but those two were written by my bandmate Andrew Ioi. I remember Andrew feeling a little unsure of including ‘Old Familiar Face’ on the album when we were tracking the song, partly because it was a long one (6:20) with a very slow build, so it felt like it might get easily skipped. But I encouraged him to keep the song for the release because it contained a very specific and personal story. It was about an older man, almost like a grandfather figure, who used to take Andrew fishing at his cottage. As he aged, his cottage became run down, and then eventually someone else bought the property and neglected it to the point where the roof almost caved in. It was melancholic because everyone from the lake missed having him around, and the sight of his old house was a tough reminder that he was no longer there. In Resident Alien, Harry lives in a cabin on the water, and I thought there were some parallels to the two stories, so I decided to pitch the song. It’s not one I pitch often because it doesn’t fit a lot of the briefs I receive, and its lyrics are obviously specific – with mentions of Barrie Harbour and being together when the news about Princess Diana’s death broke. But sure enough, it landed in the show and gave new life to the song.
I don’t think it changes how we write or produce albums. Sometimes those weirdly long and specific songs find unique audiences, even if it takes 14 years! I also think people sometimes enjoy listening to songs that aren’t as popular as the others in an artist’s catalog. It’s almost like a little secret that can seem more attractive because not everyone out there is listening to it, and it’s not overplayed on the radio.
As founder/Creative Director, what do you want your company, Route 84, to stand for in the licensing world — sonically, ethically, and operationally — and what does “winning” look like for the company in the next 3–5 years?
I used to feel like it was difficult to compete with some of the major publishers, labels, and audio libraries. Unlike some of the bigger companies, my catalog is small and consists of music from my own projects, as well as a few other bands and writers (mostly artists I’m friends with). So, if someone sent me a brief looking for German pop hits from the sixties, I would have to pass on the opportunity since I don’t have anything of the sort. But over time, I’ve come to appreciate the uniqueness in having a small but focused catalog. And even though it’s just me who manages Route 84, I can work with any budget and clear any song on the spot. There’s an advantage to that too, especially as producers are making movies and shows on tighter budgets.
I’ve also had to pass on certain briefs or opportunities where I might have the right song, but the scene or project isn’t something I feel comfortable putting Route 84 music to, depending on the nature of what is taking place on screen. I’ve always trusted my gut and prioritized my beliefs over the appeal of landing more syncs.
At the same time, the business has become incredibly competitive. When I started, a lot of artists still wanted a record deal and to go on tour. I’m sure many still do to some extent, but having control over your masters and landing syncs wasn’t necessarily at the top of the list for a lot of my contemporaries. I really became fascinated in the sync world because it was a way for me to fuse my love of music with film and television. And as a Songwriter, the business of publishing was enticing to learn too. But over time, the world of sync has become increasingly competitive – so much so that it’s common to see sync panels and music supervisors at many of the major film festivals and media conferences around the world. And they are inundated with artists trying to get them to listen to their music. It’s not a new art form, as music licensing dates all the back to the transition from the silent film era to the talkies, but the popularization of it has really exploded over the past decade or so, making it that much harder to cut through all the songs being pitched. But if you stay patient and connect with music supervisors, editors, producers, and anyone else making visual media, then good things can happen.
If I can continue licensing songs for films and television shows and be a part of someone else’s storytelling, then that’s a win for me. I also write and produce my own films and television shows. I have a show in the lifestyle docuseries space as well as a half-hour comedy I’m developing, so if I can find a home for some of the Route 84 songs in those projects, it would feel like a win too.
Performing rights organizations around the world are also getting better at collecting royalties, and the more cue sheets I have in circulation, the greater the residuals. I’d like to generate more revenue from licensing/royalty collection to help fund future recordings for artists and projects where I can employ others and collaborate in a creative way.
Where can our readers find out more about you?
You can follow me on social media: @jamesgadon on Instagram or on my website, jamesgadon.com
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