It was magic then, and it’s never lost its magic for me. Los Angeles spreads out below you on one side.  On the other side, around the next turn, the Valley is everywhere you look. An extraordinary view. It touches something inside you. At night it gets better. The lights below you are a sight to behold. Like diamonds on black velvet.

One day over lunch at one of the sidewalk cafes on Sunset Blvd., I could see the Hollywood Hills. Thoughts came. Words. I started writing in a small notebook. That’s how my song “Mulholland Drive” began. June 2003.

When I was finally able to get to work on chords and a melody to make this a song it was June 2005. The time lapse was horrendous, but what emerged was still part of that first afternoon.

“Mulholland Drive” was recorded in early June 2011. Every song has a journey before you can hear it. The road will wait for you.

A couple of songs we did still stand out in my memory. “Real World” had some unusual patterns in the lyric. It was a new song I’d co-written for Last Chance, a Bryan Cranston film. After seeing my shows, folks along the Royal Mile would come up and sing back lines from this song to me as a way of saying hello. I liked “Real World” from the beginning, but in Scotland I began to believe it was a song I’d always sing.

“One by One (Day by Day)” is the other song I brought from California and discovered in Scotland. Before performing it, I mentioned this song took shape after reading my favorite American poet, e.e. cummings. Then, I let the lyric rest in Rick’s piano and the Tim – Kate harmonies. With “One by One” I discovered this show meant something to our audiences. It wasn’t from the applause. Or the CDs they bought. It happened the next day. Some people who’d seen the show came back and left notes for me at the box office. In each envelope, along with their lovely note, they included their poems. Poems they wrote and poems they liked. Poems they wanted me to read because… I believe “one by one” they knew I’d understand.  Cheers!

On any given morning in Las Cruces I am happy to be in The Bean for coffee.  Same across town at Milagro. I like the scene there, too, and oooh the espresso! With every cup there’s a view…  of New Mexico friendships and perhaps tourists like me. We are all travelers anyway. I get to watch coffee folks laugh and lean across tables to share the secrets they would never tell another soul.

Around here 2010 ended with an exclamation point. My band’s LA concert last October hit a real (no pun intended here) high note with me. Sometimes you can just feel like a new level of work – a much better one – has been reached. I recognized it at the time and mentioned it to my brothers in kind on that project. Then, Dec. brought the chance to act in the lead role for an indie film in New Mexico. “Hatching Max” was a complete surprise. And joy. Again, a recognition. Something in the experience was at a deeper level than any I can remember. Truer. I’m ready for the next mile. The next step.

Hope is its own exclamation point, but hope also carries an asterisk. Taking steps where results are uncertain is Hope* at street level. It is the DNA of show business.  I think it is also the journey we’re all on in life. Hope. For me it takes faith to do that.  So, I keep walking forward. I keep my eyes open. I’m looking for a tiny dot of light, a sunrise,  for God’s angels to appear.

Happy 2011 to all.   — and yes, Happy New Year… Y’all.

That Christmas 1999 I joined several singers from the U.S. and Europe to sing  for the Pope and Jubilee ceremonies at the Vatican on Christmas Day . We sang a piece commissioned for the occasion from composer Beppe Cantarelli. “Magnificat” was magnificent and every Christmas since then, I’ve known I’m not alone in remembering it. We had a wonderful time of music.

 Friendships that began there are still strong. There will never be another Christmas dinner like the one we had at the small restaurant off of Piazza Navonna. I threw 3 coins in the Trevi Fountain.  I’m waiting. I believe. Merry Christmas! Joy to the World!

1. I get the music (I hear)  written.  Get what I hear in my head recorded so that it can be played and heard.
2. I get the music (I’ve written) out of my living room.   Get it out “there” where others can hear it, too.

These jobs require different skill sets and I would argue one is a right brain task and the other is left brain work.  For the past several weeks, I’ve been in Texas.  Writing.  Re-writing.  Working on new songs.  Now it’s time to go to LA and work them up with my band.

“I was busy when the future came    Looking darkly through a glass   We were introduced, I loved your name    And the future came to pass     Nobody knows but me   Nobody knows but me   Nobody knows what you open and close       Nobody knows but me”       NEVER MINE (Nobody Knows) ©2010 w/m  JD Hinton  Wide Brim Music, BMI   Six Shooter Productions, Inc.

This is my work.  Takes time and attention to detail.  Sweat and inspiration. It is not a job.  It is not an occupation.  It is a vocation.  It is the closest thing I know to what is commonly mentioned as…   a calling.

Before my journey in music – Before acting in Hollywood – My show business days began in radio. I was a kid, but that’s how I got to California.

When I arrived as a disc jockey and music director at KROY in the autumn of ’71, the Sacramento billboards touted Jimmy Dean shows in the Tahoe casinos.  Every time I’d drive by those signs I could hear “Big John… Big Bad Johnnnn” replaying in my mind.

On KROY one day, I was told that Jimmy Dean would be coming by the station to promote his (then new) Jimmy Dean Sausage. My job was to let him “sit in” on my show.  Interview him. Of course there was no planning for this.  We were going to wing it.  I wondered what we would do beyond playing “Big Bad John.”  How would he get along with a young kid interviewer? How soon would Norton, the salesman, ask Dwight, the G.M., to ship me back to Texas?

Jimmy was gracious. Very easy to meet.  After saying hello “on the air” and visiting for a minute, I plowed ahead with the show and records from the A stack or the B stack, etc. in the prescribed order.  When the songs were over I resumed talking to my “in studio guest” (sausage, Big Bad John, music) and then played whatever commercials were on the log.  Of course we talked off the air when the songs or commercials  were playing.  This went on for about an hour.  As professional as he was on the air, he was equally genial off the air.

It helped that we were both from Texas. It gave us ways to connect. We used those connections to play up a camaraderie and orneriness between us.  We had no routine, but I could tell he liked the repartee.  He was good with improvising. For those several minutes on KROY it was as if we’d known each other for years.  (I told you he was a pro.  I just worked to keep up and feed the momentum.)

Toward the end of our visit, I started playing STORY IN YOUR EYES by the Moody Blues underneath our conversation — using the record bed as a pad. I wasn’t sure how we’d get out of this talk before the record intro ended and the song began. I had about 24 secs of intro before the track shifts into gear.

Jimmy starts yammering about how I’m no hotshot. How I should go back to Texas. He gins up a Don Rickles put down humor on me to let me know that I’m not even really all that good a Texan…. and… I let him run on this way a few more seconds. Then, I said, “Oh yeah? Well your face looks like your neck threw up!”  Jimmy lit up with complete surprise, admiration, and glee. He began to laugh this deep throaty laugh that perfectly timed with the musical crescendo that every DJ hopes to reach in his talk up.  The Moody Blues were off to the races and I had just had a wonderful visit with Jimmy Dean.

Robert Weathers was my second boss. He inherited me, but Robert began to champion my work early on. When I moved to California, we stayed friends. For the past several years Robert has been in declining health. Last week I spoke at his funeral.

Robert’s home.  Standing tall.  Walking with strong steps and with no need for a walker.  His hair is no longer gray.  It is the color that is the color on a saint’s head.

Thanks again for the patience and the opportunity.  Goodbye good friend.