The pains of going solo

During a recent interview with the Vanguard, musician Chris Lay sat with a spiral notebook peeking out of his bag. “It’s one of about 12 filled with songs,” he says. Clearly it acted as more of an appendage than a casual thought collector.

During a recent interview with the Vanguard, musician Chris Lay sat with a spiral notebook peeking out of his bag. “It’s one of about 12 filled with songs,” he says.

Clearly it acted as more of an appendage than a casual thought collector. After years of scribbling his way through notebook after notebook, Lay decided it was time those songs were given life outside of pen-and-ink. He dedicated himself to writing, performing and producing a solo project complete with drums, guitar, piano, percussion and harmonies. The end result was an accumulation of his musical exposures and inclinations.

“I’d say it’s folk-pop rock. It’s up to whoever’s listening to describe it further. It’s a product of everything I’ve listened to or been involved with.”

Which, as it turns out, is quite a lot.

Raised in McMinnville, Ore., Lay ended up migrating to the University of Oregon where he got his degree in jazz studies as a drummer. His study there revealed a universal flaw with the institute of learning, one he didn’t plan on prolonging.

“My biggest issue with school was that too often people were paired or grouped with players at their same level. There’s no knowledge there. There’s no one to teach and no one to learn. It’s kind of worthless.”

He relocated to Portland while playing with a former band. Now, Lay balances his solo project with a songwriting position working with jazz-soul singer Michalangela and performing with the band Minmae. After a few months buildup, Lay’s music began to tighten its grasp around ambitions. Two weeks ago, Lay quit his job of over two years without any plans of employment outside of his musicianship.

“Right now this is everything,” he says. “I’m cutting out the safety net.”

The music he creates is rooted in self-expression. He incorporates the soulful runs of jazz with pop chorus lines and indie aftertastes. It’s comforting to listen to, as there is an instantaneous sense of intimacy that engulfs his entire collection, while each song maintains it’s own identity.

“It’s always been difficult for me to list influences because song by song I’m influenced by something else,” says Lay. “I could list them all, but you may or may not hear its [sic] impact in a given song.”

Most of his notebooks are filled with pieces of songs, unfinished emissions of spontaneous creative insight. Lay often finds it difficult to revisit these songs, perhaps allowing the good stuff to weed itself out by demanding conclusion.

“You always hear people say ‘write what you know,'” he says. “But you still constantly hear people writing about other people, events or world affairs. I do it too, but those songs never get finished. The ones that do get finished are those closest to me.”

Interestingly enough, the same calm Lay experiences while molding a personal song is sometimes lacking in his stage confidence. After years of playing in a band or with instrumental protection, the vulnerability of being a frontman can be jarring.

“I had to work at it. Taking away my drum, that was my home. Now I feel naked up there. But at some point you have to realize you’re human, and you can play to that.”

Lay is still in his early incarnations. His music is constantly shaping new intricacies and, though his talent remains consistent, he embraces the evolution his music will continue to take.

Really, it’s the sense of truthfulness that is most intoxicating in his tunes. For some reason completely beyond rationality, Lay creates a close friendship with his listeners through his music, allowing them to immediately trust him.

“I don’t know that it’s anything groundbreaking,” he says, “but I think there’s a level of honesty and creativity that I hope people take to.”

Perhaps the must enticing thing about Lay’s presence in Portland is the opportunity Portlanders have to watch his development as an artist and enjoy each step, tangent, backtrack or shape-shift along the way. In the meantime, Lay has no problem increasing his curb appeal with the allowance of musical thievery.

“I encourage people to record my shows and pirate my music for free. I just want people to hear it.”