CHAD: This song was inspired by a dream I had one night. A person showed up in my dream that I knew - an old friend I had lost many years ago. I couldn’t make out features or anything, but someone called them by name, or I wouldn’t have recognized her.

I remembered bits and pieces when I woke up, and had another realization - I hadn’t just lost someone that I cared about, but in the forty years since I’ve also lost the memory of her face, her voice, and the little details I thought that I’d always remember. I tried to remember, but everything had become softer over the years.

When Thea and I sat down with it, it needed a lot of work. There’s really no story in this song, but rather some realizations, and getting those into a cohesive structure that made sense was difficult. We had to change a lot, and remove thoughts that were repetitive, until we came to a final version that we both felt was strong enough.

I had originally called this “Erosion”, and had both “Softer” and “Erosion” in the song, and couldn’t decide which way to go. Thea and I both ended up agreeing that “Softer” was stronger - and, well, softer - than “Erosion”. I think that was definitely the right decision.

THEA: Yes, we made a lot of changes here, but not to the fundamental message Chad wanted to convey. We replaced some key words with better ones, added words to fill out the original phrases to make them land better, and removed a redundant verse…but before I even heard it the “softer” hook was in place, and there was no question in my mind what it really needed to be.

Chad is an excellent photographer (Instagram: @chad.fairbanks), so some of the imagery in the song reflects the language of photography, which I love; another thing I love about it is the recurring metaphor of fading memories as nature, for example: the smoothing of a stone from the motion of the sea, the fog diffusing our vision of details about someone we’re missing.

As is sometimes the case when we’re working with Suno, it takes more work than people probably imagine to get where we want to be—at least the way we use it. Once we determine where we want to end up, on a less-than-cooperative song it could take more than 100 “takes” to get there—typically, we are shifting and crafting lyrics and form and making musical decisions along the way (alternatively, sometimes it falls into place very quickly)—this particular song took between 100 and 200 takes to get it to sound the way we wanted…and we could have kept going, but we have learned when to stop.

This is such a unique topic, I think, and this is a nearly universal fear when people in our lives pass away: “I desperately want to hang on to what I have left of you, but I can feel my memories of you slowly slipping away.”

For me, this is my sister. I try to recall what it was like to be in a room with her…she was funny and generous and such a joy to be with, and I remember that she was—but I can’t see it in detail when I try. I only remember that she was. I can’t see her face clearly. I can’t hear her voice.

Maybe the lack of sharpness that develops over time is in part a natural response to pain, but it is a type of pain in itself. And so, we (primarily Chad) wrote “Softer” to give voice to that pain.

THEA: I think we started out using a full band on this one, before we came to the conclusion that it sounded lyrically more like an intimate conversation between two people who love each other enough to wait to see each other—regardless of how much they wanted to be together.

Stripped it down to acoustic and it felt right.

Sometimes I think it could be a PSA for the Wisconsin DOT, but of course that’s not why we wrote it. And we were both amused by the ambiguity of the title.

Chad?

CHAD: Thea was the inspiration for this song in a way. I often have to go a few states away for work - it’s the Midwest, so it’s all drivable - and the 9 to 12 hour drives can be done in a day. However, Thea said something along the lines of “Look, take an extra day to do this. We don’t care if you’re gone an extra day. Just be safe.”

Beyond just being an inspiration with the “be safe” conversation, she also did a lot of work helping turn it into something pretty cool.

My favorite line is “I’d rather spend another night alone, than forever without you.”

THEA: This is about that couple that has been together forever but are still completely in love—the relationship just about everyone wants. It’s got a coffeehouse feel to it, which I think is the perfect environment for these lyrics…I can’t really imagine it any other way.

To explain the cover:

“People say that butterflies are something we all lose; but that might all depend on the person that we choose.”

My favorite line (Chad’s, of course): “We quit counting time somewhere between forever and last night.”

This one required very little input from me, but as we say around here: “Thea’s job is basically little effort, big impact.” Just how I like it. [LAUGHS]

Do I want to know if Chad wants to talk about this song?

CHAD: This one was a complete departure from anything else we were doing at the time. I think I had been stuck in a rut with some darker stuff, and this was the nudge I needed to expand my writing to happier topics. [LAUGHS]

And yes, Thea did a lot of cosmetic changes that really turned this into something special.

THEA: This song is about an actual experience I had. For many years, I sang lead and background vocals in a variety of Top 40/R&B bands. It’s not true for every genre of music, but for that one, it’s a little easier to age out performance-wise. When I found myself getting to that point, I decided to go back to my roots: My best friend and I had an acoustic duo that played around Wisconsin Dells when we were in high school, so I pulled a guitar out of storage and took it to a pro shop in Seattle where I was living at the time.

This particular instrument had no truss rod, and the neck had bowed over the years, causing mild intonation issues on the higher frets. The cost for the repair was more than the guitar was worth, and the luthier’s recommendation was to (quite unceremoniously) throw it away.

“Can I just give it to a student?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Should I just donate it? It still has such a warm, beautiful tone.”

“Unless you want to pay for a neck re-set, I wouldn’t give it to anybody.”

When I heard this, the diagnosis made me irrationally upset. I mean, who doesn’t want to go buy a new guitar? Who is bothered by that idea? But I found myself crying over it for about a day before I realized what was really bothering me: I was the guitar. I still sounded good, but…I was older. Maybe it was time for me to be thrown away too.

Or maybe not.

So the song (largely crafted by Chad, at my topic suggestion—and refined by the two of us over the kitchen table) is about a Takamine nylon string guitar.

It’s also about me.

And FWIW: I didn’t throw it away.

Anything to add, Chad?

CHAD: This is Thea’s story to tell. I just helped her bring her story to life.

I will say, though, that originally I had used the words “repair shop” because I thought “luthier” was too much. Thea, rightfully, pointed out something like “Let’s just say ‘music store’” and I have to say it flowed a lot better. She does a lot of that, and I’d be a fool if I didn’t listen.

THEA: If you didn’t listen, you’d be doing this without me. [LAUGHS]