Rickey's Interview

Photo by Jordan Rosen

Oh, Rickey. Rickey, Rickey, Rickey.

I have been trying to get this boy to do an interview with me for the longest time, even before the idea for this capstone project was ever even a thing. In fact—I've wanted to speak with him for about a year at this point. About music, of course, but exactly what about music is something that's changed over time. At first, it was about getting his story down and creating a profile out of the events that have led him to be where he is today. Now, not so much. This time, I had something else in mind—something that I personally wanted to hear him talk about because, with the way things are going right now, it's something I could learn a lot from, considering I'm going to be going down the same path that he's on.

I remember the first day I met Rickey. He doesn't—but that's an argument I'll save for my deathbed. Anyways, he came into my old band's rehearsal room back one night in what must've been 2018. My bandmates at the time knew Rickey, but I didn’t really know anything about him other than the fact that he played for the Lo-fis (an old local band), and wore glasses. My first impression of him is the impression I have of him to this day: he was an insatiably excited kid; wise beyond his years, but who very much still acted his age. He heard us practice our set, and waited for what was typically expected of the night. In our music scene, it's a bit of an unspoken rule that if you invite someone over to your rehearsal space, a jam session will be held at some point during the night, and that's pretty much exactly what happened. That night in particular, though, I learned two things: 1. that Rickey was insanely talented (at nearly every instrument he touched) and 2. that he was someone whose songwriting abilities impressed me to the point that I genuinely started to become insecure in my own abilities as a songwriter. And that last part really got to me, too, because, I'll admit; over the years, I've become a bit of a snob when it comes to music. I've become this hyper-critical, annoying little self-appointed music critic, whose supposed high standards are due in large part to what he thinks of as being a carefully-developed taste in music (it’s totally not, I’m just pretentious). Honestly though, I've become the guy that, when you let get on aux, plays the most vibe-killing music you'll ever hear in your life—with a smile on my face, too.

Anyways, point is that, at the time, it was pretty hard to impress me, but that Rickey definitely did. Off the bat, I could see that the chords he played, and the notes he chose to play around those chords, were all ones that were really well-thought out, and pretty clearly thought of on the spot, too. It just really blew me away at first, and I was really struck by his abilities as a musician from the moment I met him.

But, I mean, besides that, he was a pretty funny kid, too. We ended up getting along pretty well, and, as time went on, grew to be pretty close to each other. So, taking all of that into account, when I thought about what it was that I wanted to speak to Rickey about, I realized it all really came down to just one thing: experience.

From the moment I met Rickey, that's the one thing I understood off the bat: he's had far more experience with music than I have. And not just in a general sense, either. In every sense of the word, he's had more experience. He's been writing songs for longer, been playing in bands for longer and, most importantly, he's been on his own for longer. He has all of this knowledge that he's accumulated over the years, and so I figured that, at this point in time, that was what I actually wanted to hear him talk about. What has it been like to be on his own? How has he managed to do it and what has the whole experience taught him as a person?

I was genuinely interested in hearing his thoughts on the matter but, like with any interview, I wanted to let Rickey say these things on his own without any direct intervention on my part to get him to say them. I only wanted to steer him in the right direction, so to speak. So, we set up a date, met up on the day of, sat down with our Sweetgreen spring chicken salads (with spicy broccoli, of course), and talked about what exactly has led him to this point in his life.

Like a lot of us, Rickey's passion for music started at an early age. He picked up drumming in middle school and, by the time he was in high school, he was not only already in his first band, but was dead-set on pursuing a career as a musician after he graduated high school, too. So, for the next couple of years after graduating, Rickey spent his time honing his skills and learning how to function within the musical climate of the city, picking up as much knowledge as he could so that he could know the difference between making a good decision, and a bad one. And that, more than anything, is a skill that should be appreciated the most, because in the community that we've found ourselves in, it's a very valuable skill to have. It's important to know when maybe you shouldn't play that backyard show with no backline, or when maybe it’s not the best idea to go play in a dingy basement out in the middle of nowhere. With half a door for the bathroom. That also has no backline.

It goes beyond just knowing when and where to play, though. Even when it comes to recording your own music, there's a certain amount of knowledge required to know when a song's been mixed and mastered well, and when it hasn't. So many things go into making it as a musician in this city that it's honestly a little overwhelming at times, but that's exactly my point in saying all this, too. These things matter, and picking up on so many of them is exactly what's benefited Rickey throughout the years. So, by the time he made the decision to leave his old band, he was equipped with the knowledge necessary to go off on his own and start his own project; a project he decided to name Arverne, after the town he grew up in in the Rockaways.

On his own, Rickey knows exactly where he stands on a lot of the things typically expected of a band and, in a lot of ways, acts as his own manager. Rickey the musician would love to tour, but Rickey the manager knows that to set aside money for a tour in the middle of a pandemic, and have it be cancelled due to that one person coming down with the virus, is something that just wouldn't make any logistical sense for a local musician who's trying to fully capitalize on something that costs so much in the first place. He'd love to record an album, but knows that booking the amount of studio time necessary to do so would cost money that he just can't spend at the moment. Basically, all of the things that would normally cross a manager's mind also crosses Rickey's, and he's much better off for it. At the end of the day, any money spent in vain would not be money that could be easily recuperated, nor would it be money whose loss would be taken lightly by Rickey by any stretch of the imagination. Trust me, this kid wouldn't buy something off the dollar menu at McDonald's if it meant that he couldn't buy a new guitar for himself. And that's the thing—in a lot of ways, a new guitar really can be far more valuable than eating out for the night and, in pursuing this career, you really do have to pick and choose what to spend your money on. Rickey's a frugal bastard but, at the end of the day, I respect him for it because I understand that that's just the way you have to be when you're trying to pursue a career in something that costs so much money to get off the ground. Everything comes at a cost, even the things that don't immediately come to mind as being monetary in nature. Things like losing a band member, neglecting to spend time on your music, not posting enough on your band’s social media—these are all things that can genuinely harm your chances of success as a musician, and the path to success is one filled with hurdles that you constantly have to jump through in order to make something of yourself. So, obviously, it’s a path that someone would only go down if they were truly passionate about what it is that they were doing, but, it's also one that, for me personally, begs one question in particular.

"Were you ever scared to start your own band?"

"I wouldn't say scared. I've never really been scared; I've always known that I was gonna do music."

"Just to be on your own, though."

"[No], I never felt alone. Like, I always had everybody surrounding me. I was still a part of the scene. I[‘ve] never felt alone in Arverne, but, if I ever did feel emotions like that, I would pour it into the music, all of those melancholic feelings. That's where my best material will come from—when I go through some tragic shit, [and] I'm just like 'yo, I need to write'. I'll get mad existential and [realize that] I need to just do it. 'Cause I know it's what I'm destined to do. If I wasn't meant to do it, I wouldn't be out here doing it. For years."

Like I said before, Rickey is someone who I find to be incredibly talented, but he's also someone who, I think, puts his talents to use very pragmatically in the way that he goes about pursuing music. His response to my question made me realize that each musician pursues music with a different set of emotions fueling their drive, and that I was just projecting the emotions that fuel my drive onto him. Unlike me, he isn't afraid of being on his own, and plans for his future in every possible way that he can. He knows what to expect, both from himself and from others, and he prepares for it accordingly. But, that also made me think, am I the same way?

After listening to what Rickey had to say, I found myself realizing that the differences between us very much came down to our own individual experiences. His experiences were sobering ones that made him realize he needed to be on his own in order to do the things he wanted to do, and mine weren't. While we're both on our own as a result of circumstance, I'm not on my own because I want to be. In the band that I was in, I was perfectly content with dedicating all my time and effort towards the project, and was relatively happy to be in the position I was in. Sure, I had song ideas floating around that I dreamt of being able to play on my own one day, but those ideas never took precendence over the band, and I always imagined that I'd get around to them sooner or later.

What I didn't imagine, though, was that I would get to them as a result of my band breaking up, and having the proverbial rug being pulled out from underneath me. For Rickey, it was different in the sense that he felt prepared for what was coming ahead; I wasn't. While I was comfortable sharing that rug with my band, he felt as if he couldn't share his with his bandmates anymore. He felt the need to move on with his life, and pursue the things that he wanted for himself in spite of his bandmates. That, in my opinion, is what makes all the difference in how we each pursue music on our own. While Rickey is very methodical in how he approaches every aspect of making his music, I'm not. While he's someone who takes his time with releasing music, I'm someone who takes their time with writing music. I have songs that I've let marinate in my head for years at this point, all with their own varying levels of completion. I have enough of them to make up an album with, but I'm still very much in a constant state of doubt about whether or not I'm even happy with those songs. Rickey doesn't have that problem. At the end of the day, because he's a much more prolific songwriter than I am, and a much more capable musician than I am, he's able to be much more efficient in how he goes about pursuing his music. And, personally, I think a lot of it has to do with him having mentally prepared himself for all of it before leaving his band. I just didn’t really get that chance.

But don't get me wrong. I say all this not because I feel sorry for myself, or because I wish I was in a better position at this point in my life, but simply because these are the realizations I‘ve made as a result of listening to Rickey speak about the experiences he’s had, and because I think there’s value in acknowledging the differences in those experiences. I truly had no idea that my band would end as soon as it did. As a result, I've been thrust into this position where, if I really want to continue being a creative person, if I really want to continue pursuing a career as a musician, then I've got no choice but to pick myself up off the ground, and make an effort to do everything that that entails.

From speaking to Rickey, I understand that, at the end of the day, it's up to me to not only get things done, but to teach myself the things that make getting those things done easier in the longrun. Rickey's experiences serve as an inspiration, no doubt, but it also serves as a reminder that, because of our differences, I've got to figure out what works best for me, and do the best I can with what I have at my disposal. Just like he has. In the meantime, I'll value his advice and respect the way he goes about achieving his goals, but carve out a path for myself that makes the most sense to me as I figure out how best be on my own with the experiences I've had playing music. At the end of the day, that's all I can really do.

-

Towards the end of our interview, I asked Rickey what it meant to be a musician. It was a stupid question that I knew full well could be met with a stupid answer, but I asked it anyway, just to see what his response would be.

He answered with the following:

”It means playing music. (laughs) I don’t know, I feel like there are so many different musicians out here, dude. Piece-of-shit musicians, fucking really passionate ones. Living in fucking New York, dude, that’s a tricky question, man. Being a musician means you’re confident enough in yourself enough to try and do it. (laughs) That’s all it really means to me, dude. I see people out here, dude, they’re technically musicians. It’s not up to me if you should or shouldn’t be a musician. It’s just like…it’s like all these people do not have to be out here. Trying to be 'the best,' you know.”

”No, yeah. You can tell when someone’s going about it a little disingenuously.”

”Pretentiously, dude. And I don’t even have a pretentious answer. I feel like a lot of people would have pretentious answers for that question right there. Like, oh, 'it means really caring the most,' like nah, dude.

I think it’s like...it's like a tricky question. I guess if I really did want to genuinely give like a genuine answer, it just means like…I don’t know. It’s like anyone‘s a musician, you know.

The dude who fucks around in his bedroom is just as much of a musician as the guy who‘s touring the fucking world, you know. It’s about just getting up and doing it. That’s what a musician is. It would be a different answer if it was like, oh, ‘what does it mean to be like a ‘hard-working musician‘ or like a ‘good’ musician’, or-“

”No, purely and simply a musician.”

“Yeah…yeah, it’s anyone who does it. It’s like, ‘what does it mean to be a lawyer?’, you know? (laughs) You fucking practice the law. I don’t know, it’s like…I’m just answering it too literally, I guess.”

”No, I think you answered it perfectly.”

”(laughs) I wish I had a better answer. I wish I had, like, something mad inspiring, [to have] a good note to end it on, but it’s like nah, dude. Whoever just tries to do it out here is a musician.

You know, it’s about, like…music is meant to do something. There’s supposed to be a reaction to it. It’s gonna chill you out, or it’ll just like get you through your day, or it’ll just like get you pumped up, you know.”

”It’s cathartic. It’s a cathartic fucking thing, man.”

”Yeah. Even, like, the way they use it in film and TV. It serves its purpose.

It’s like, I don’t know…I guess, a musician is the person that recognizes that it’s supposed to do something for someone.”

“Alright, pa. Thank you very much. That’ll be the end.”

(applause)

-

If I could boil my entire interview with Rickey down to just one thing, it's that you really do have to just do it. Take care to make sure your music is what you want it to be, yes, but just do it. Like I mentioned before, fear is an emotion that plagues my efforts to do the things I want to do in life, but I know that I can't let it be the thing that stops me. At the end of the day, I know that I, too, share the same passion for music that Rickey does, and that it's about time I make an effort to prove it. To myself, though, if to anyone in particular. He, along with anyone else who's ever been able to put out music on their own, serves as proof that all you really need to do is to learn how to operate the world in which you live in, take in all of the experiences that have led you to this point in your life, and try your best to make something of yourself with the talents you've been given. From there, anything and everything can happen to you, and it really is just up to you to see it all through to the end.