Lindsay White – Lights Out on iTunes.
by Walter Price
“There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you.” Maya Angelou has said. Indie singer-songwriter Lindsay White hasn’t held back, she has told her stories on her new album ‘Lights Out’. An album chronicling loss, anxiety, death, acknowledging her true identity, and love to select just a few lyrical subjects of thought.
The passing of White’s mother and grandfather, her divorce from her husband, the songwriter came out as gay., and subsequently and beautifully, she remarried a woman. As her bio puts it, “to the religious dismay of loved ones, the songs kept coming for White, and the result is a powerful selection of lyrical lamentations.”
It was an honor to have Lindsay White stop by to go track by track one of the most gracefully honest albums of this year, ‘Lights Out’.
The first single off the record is about the strong bond between siblings. My big sister Haley has always been my biggest fan and protector, like a mother in many ways – if she wasn’t her I wouldn’t be me.
One of my favorite tracks on the record, this tune was inspired by some random conversation I had while stoned at a party about how to survive animal attacks. A silly start to what turned out to be a pretty serious song about how we’re our own worst enemies.
I wrote this at a time when I was feeling extremely lonely and isolated. I’ve gotten pretty good at weathering storms, which tricks people into thinking I’m strong. At the end of the day, it’s up to me to reach out and ask for support, but sometimes it’s disappointing when those closest to you are seemingly unaware of how much you need them in those moments.
Deep Dark Down
Before my mom died, I found myself trying to accept the fact that our wounds would never heal completely. It’s something I desperately attempted to come to terms with as her brain cancer took over. I’m still struggling with how to let go of a relationship that ended with such little resolve. Get your tissues ready…my dad can’t even listen to it.
I Carry You
Grief is a peculiar thing in that we get to choose how long to carry it with us. Most of the time, we carry it long after we need it because it’s all that’s left of something or someone we cared very much about. This song blends the beauty and the pain of that concept into a fun little smoothie.
I’ve dealt with anxiety practically my whole life. On my best days I can harness all that unnecessary pressure I put on myself into productivity, but on my worst days, I allow it to paralyze me. Junkyard Dog is about having an awareness of your own potential, but being too terrified to do anything about it.
Rubber Band Gun
A tribute to my Poppa Bill who died a few years ago. This song encompasses all the lessons I was lucky enough to learn from him about love and kindness.
The oldest song on the record by far, this is an apology track to my ex-husband. I think a lot of people can relate to making serious choices that unintentionally alter the course of someone else’s life. Speaking of carrying grief, the grief of this guilt is something I’ll take to the grave.
Not a Boy
I wrote this as an open letter to all the family members (specifically my wife’s parents) who decide not to attend the wedding of their loved ones due to differences of opinion (in our case, over our homosexuality). My wife Audrie has the most dazzling smile I’ve ever seen, and I can’t imagine any world where a parent wouldn’t want to see a smile like that on the person they created.
The title track on the record was the first song I wrote after losing my mother. The second she took her last breath, I instantly morphed into a child who just wanted her mom. The line “everything’s different with the lights out” is a reminder to me (and hopefully any listener) that life is so short. I try to live with that line in my heart because it helps me remember to keep everything in perspective and to put out as much love and compassion as I can during my short stay here on this planet.
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