We found out some more about Stephen Mugford, his story and his debut album Palooza Beach
A man who has already lived a full and storied life before now turning his attention to creating music, Stephen Mugford is an artist with a wide array of experiences and stories that he pours into a distinctive sound that borrows from a wide range of different influences and styles, making for something that feels both timeless and fresh.
The rising artist’s debut album Palooza Beach is a collection of tracks that solidifies the artist’s appeal and charm, skirting across different genres and sounds as he explores his sound and the wealth of experience that he has around him through collaborators John Escobar and Claudio Ragazzi. The album is a really encouraging introduction to Stephen and his distinctive appeal, and we had a chat with the artist to find out a bit more about his journey, his sound, and what else he has planned for the near future.
Who TF is Stephen Mugford?
I am a song writer and a musician. It just took me about five decades and a little health scare to come to that realization. I am a husband, father, and former corporate business weenie who at the height of his career decided to hang up my calculators and start writing music for an audience of… squatootsky – zip. The path, as with most people’s paths, has not been straight: I grew up in a middle-class home in a blue collar town where the prevailing narrative felt like “how do you get out of here and rise above this place.” I went to college to study business… and then rebelled against expectations and my parents and majored in poetry. I graduated college with my degree in poetry… and then joined a fledgling company and grew it into an amazing successful thing… and then I rebelled again and ditched my career right as it was peaking so I could teach myself music, write lyrics and record songs for an audience of… zip. Are these the right paths? Good choices? Who the heck knows? But it’s a hell of a ride.
Overall, I have lived an incredible and fortunate life. And, I am really proud of it (not everything I’ve ever done in it of course, but overall as a body of work, it’s pretty cool). I’ve been married for 32 years to the love of my life. I have three grown daughters who are unbelievable and flourishing and happy. I am a passionate athlete and competed in swimming at a high level for several decades and now compete in 2-man beach volleyball. I was part of a founding team that built several high performing public charter schools in poor urban Boston and Providence RI that teach middle and high school kids and give them a serious opportunity to flourish. And, over several decades I helped build a fledgling start up into an amazing company that employs almost 100,000 associates and serves tens of millions of customers.
There have been serious challenges along the way, of course. Perhaps more than the successes, the challenges have shaped me along the way. Mental health issues run deep in my family. Confronting those and helping my kids and family navigate their challenges has been more taxing and wrenching than I could have ever imagined. And, of course, over almost 60 years on this planet, one amasses a host of setbacks and losses and regrets and doubts and “shoulda/woulda/coulda” sleepless nights that all take their toll, make their dents. But all of that is context and fodder for ‘Me’. I feel deeply, and I crave deep soulful human connection. I have always been acutely aware of perfect imperfect moments and feelings even as I am experiencing and feeling them. I relish savoring the experience of living – its sweetness and sourness – and trying to distil and capture them in language, metaphor, music.
How long have you been making music?
I have been making music for my entire life. But I only recently formally thought of myself as a musician doing so. Music has always been a deep part of my sense of the world. When I was a kid, my brothers and sister would complain about the noises I made on long car trips as I harmonized with the sounds of the tires running along the highway, and syncopated beats with the irregular rhythms of the windshield wipers and blinkers. The shower was my Carnegie Hall, and singing and making up tunes and tones was a deep part of me, as natural and inexorable as breathing. But I never thought of myself as a musician – musicians were people that took serious music lessons and played in concerts and practiced hours and hours a day. Musicians were what other people got to be. Until I worked up the courage to take a leap and be a musician for real.
Why do you make music?
As I said above, for me, music has always been a part of the prism through which I experience the world. It is as natural and as fundamental as breathing. I’m not sure there is anything that could stop the incessant tunes that are always playing in my head. Making music in a more formal sense, though, like as a “musician,” that always seemed beyond my reach. I was musical, but not a musician. And that was enough for me… or so I thought. On my fortieth birthday I had a small health scare which turned out to be nothing (a tiny hemroid). But the doctors were not sure and so they insisted on some tests which took place over a week or so. That week was one of my longest ever as I obsessed and worried about what it could be. The existential angst triggered some deep thinking. I had lived a lot of life – check. Had a great wife and great kids – check, check. Was successful, and very happy – check check. I remember thinking “if this health thing is serious, I will be sad, but I am content with where I am and the life I’ve lived.” And then WHAM, out of left field, to my great surprise I felt deeply sad about not having pursued music. WHAT?! I hadn’t thought much about music since ever. I was at a midlife moment, and regret about music is what bubbled up. This was my lament.
They say at the end you don’t regret the chances you took and the mistakes you made as much as the chances you never took. The feedback was clear, so when the tests all came back OK, I decided to take action. I was (and still am) essentially musically illiterate, so I quietly taught myself basic piano. And then after several years I worked up the courage to engage a vocal coach. I started writing and recording songs on Garage Band. And then most fortuitously I was introduced to John Escobar an award winning professor of Music Engineering and Production at Berklee School of Music in Boston where I live. For reasons that, to this day I still wonder about, John offered to help me out and then after a short time to collaborate with me to write and produce original music. He brought in his colleague Emmy and Grammy award winner Claudio Ragazzi who is a maestro guitarist and music arranger and orchestrator as a co-collaborator.
And the three of us have been taking songs I write and massaging and building them into finished, produced, released product. The joy of the creative process and the music itself has been crazy cool. But also to get a firsthand view of and experience of a whole new world and industry and network of amazing people has been an even greater joy.
When I was a little kid singing my made up songs to the backtrack of the station wagon tires running down the highway and the rhythm of windshield wipers in the rain, I wasn’t worried about whether anyone was listening. Or, if what I was doing was any good or was technically right or wrong, or whatever. I was music, and creating it, such as it was, was unfiltered joy. Now fifty odd years later I have unreasonable access and exposure to incredible professionals and levels of production that I could not have imagined as a kid. But the pure joy of raw creation – and now the added joy of creative collaboration – is more rewarding and meaningful than anything else.
What are your biggest influences?
My musical tastes are a bit of a music stew that draws different elements from across several decades of my childhood and youth. My most elementally formative music years were the seventies, where I was surrounded by acoustic rock and singer-song-writer music. Crosby Stills and Nash, Jim Croce, the Eagles, Paul McCartney, Simon and Garfunkel, Peter Paul and Mary, Joan Collins, John Denver… the list could go on. As I entered my teens in the later seventies and eighties, I was drawn to more sophisticated rhythms and sounds but still essentially rock-band music. David Bowie, Elton John, Fleetwood Mac, Steve Miller and later The Police, Cars, Squeeze, Sting, Dire Straits and Mark Knopfler…. In college I was exposed to more styles that added to my music stew: a few teaspoons of funk from the 70s that I had never paid much attention to – Sly and the Family Stone. A dash of jazz – some 50’s jazz standards, a bit of Al Jereau, etc. After college, several friends who were deep in the latin scene, introduced me to the energy and sophistication of latin percussion. All of that mix is rattling around in my head as I hear music and try to connect with it.
What would you say have been your best moments so far?
“Best moments” is an insanely broad category. Things like the birth of my kids, my wedding day, my first kiss, that perfect sunset on that random Tuesday evening all come to mind.
Let’s narrow the focus down to music. Singing harmonies is the closest thing I think I can imagine to nirvana (the transcendental state of consciousness, not the rock band). The first time I sang harmonies with a small a cappella group in college ranks as truly a spiritual experience for me. As I’ve said I had always sung informally, and found it an essential extension of me. I had sung with others in unison, but if I’m honest, I was generally more focused on how good I was sounding versus the other singers and tried to sing louder to stand out or carry the tune. And then I sang with a small a cappella group. Each of us sang a different part of a unified whole. Quite literally, the first time I came together in the small circle to sing a song, I was physically moved to tears. I didn’t expect it, but I was instantly addicted to that feeling. The awareness of the other voices combining with mine changed my whole perspective. The need to listen and integrate and augment and elevate others added rich new dimensions and expanded my appreciation for composition and community. The harmony in that small circle literally physically touched my soul. I had goosebumps. And then we stopped. And the spirit that we had conjured drifted away. And I was addicted. I needed more.
To this day, when I can sing harmonies with otters in close proximity I still find myself swept to a different plane. The best example is any given birthday in our family. I have three daughters each with an excellent singing voice. Every family birthday while we sing ‘Happy Birthday’ we all good naturedly compete for the incremental vocal harmony part. “I’ve got the third, back off…” one will declare. “Fine…” a sister retorts, and jumps to the fifth to block out her other sister and her dad. “The 7th.” Sometimes, no one sings the melody and the whole thing comes crumbling down as we laugh and rib each other good naturedly. There is no experience better than making music in-person, with loved ones and friends, in a moment of elemental connection. Shaping and caressing a fleeting moment of “perfect” with others puts the chaos of the world and noisy egos ‘on hold’ for just a moment as we link to something spiritual. It still literally takes my breath away.
How would you describe your sound to somebody unfamiliar with it?
Generally relatively complex arrangements but where you can still hear and experience the individual acoustic instruments. A bit of a throwback to the music of my formative years with hints of some latin and funk thrown in. Vocally, I try to channel acoustic greats (McCartney, Sting, Glenn Frey); some contemporary greats (Sam Smith, Jason Mraz); a little crunch from Springsteen; a dollop of country a-la Willie Nelson (there is some cowboy in this Connecticut yankee); with the lyrical intent and storytelling of greats like Dillon and Mayer. As I’ve described above there is often a little latin rhythm in the mix, and I am always a sucker for a dash of funk. I am sure I never reach any of those lofty icons or goals, but the act of reaching is the whole point and I hope some of all that comes through.
What’s your dream “I’ve made it” moment?
Let me start by saying that in many respects, I really believe what I am doing now is me “having made it.” Who in life could reasonably ask for more than what I am doing now: making music with insanely great collaborators, healthy, with my dear family and many deep friendships, plus many non-music career and other accomplishments I have enjoyed, and some positive impact on the world through building schools and mentorship? Pinch me. I get to spend quality time sifting through my experiences and my feelings and then get to craft metaphors and lyrics and shape melodies and harmonies into song. I’ve “made it” plenty.
That said… filling a large, storied venue and sharing my craft and feeling the energy of a crowd pulsating back would be a moment (frankly, I’d take a smaller less-storied venue as well). Or, having a great artist who I respect do a cover of one of my tunes would be a trip… (truthfully, even a just OK artist would be cool too).
At the risk of sounding corny, though, I think having someone who I have never met before reach out to me to tell me that they were touched by something I wrote, that one of my songs resonated with them, helped them feel less alone in a down moment, or more elated in a high one, or that they enjoyed a particular moment with one of my songs and shared it with a friend… For me, those are my “I’ve made it” moments.
We love your debut album Palooza Beach, what can you tell us about it?
Palooza Beach is my debut album. There are eight original tracks that I wrote. I perform all of the lead and back up vocals. John Escobar produced and engineered all the tracks. Claudio Ragazzi arranged several of them and plays guitar. The music ranges from funk-jazz-infused to acoustic to festival rock vibe. The songs themselves range from meditations about struggle and identity to parenthood to the simple joys of a day at the beach with friends.
What else do you have planned for the near future?
I have a few musical projects in the works. This past spring, I spent several days in a studio with John, Claudio and a fabulous pianist named Zahili Zamora (another professor at Berklee who tours with Claudio’s jazz group). We did simpler, unplugged recordings of four of the tracks from Palooza Beach (Easy to Love, Not Gonna Let the Devil, Wild Things and Backside of the Moon), and three new tunes that are slated for my second album (see below). We had a video team in the studio so we will be releasing youtube videos of the sessions starting this summer in a few weeks.
We also are very deep into my second album which will start being released this January or so. We had a chance to record some of it at Criteria Recording Studio in Miami Fl which was an iconic experience. I literally recorded several songs from the live room where the Eagles did Hotel California and Clapton did Layla. Needless to say I think I brought the musical historical average of the room down a bit. The songs continue the meditations and musical experimentation from the first album but with some more sophistication and, I hope, even more compelling performances. We had a live brass section, live violins and we are bringing in some background vocalists for the harmonies which I think bring a level of authenticity and live energy to the tracks.
Lastly, I am already writing tracks for a third album which is going to lean into more of a country vibe. My goal is to record it at an iconic country studio in Nashville or Muscle Shoals with great local players and energy. But that is down the road a bit.
And finally, who is your biggest fan right now?
My biggest fan is probably my dog Lucy.
In terms of music, I think my dear friend and business partner Rob is my biggest fan / booster. Rob spent a storied career in music, is a Salsa DJ of some renown, and is the guy who introduced me to John Escobar at Berklee and opened the door for me into the Alice-and-Wonderland music trip I’ve been on. He listens with intent and nuance, provides feedback that is direct and helpful, and feels vicarious ownership (like a proud parent?) of the places I’ve been able to go and the track I am on.
