Tommy Connors

I don’t have a clue really where to begin. My songs, my inspirations, the stories I come up with are really based on where I’ve been, people I’ve met and situations I’ve been in. Lots of my fellow songwriters seem to pull from things they read – not me – it must be empirical. I need to smell it. Taste it. Hear it. Feel it. If it weren’t for music, I’d be a lost soul. This is certain.

The road has been a home for me. Spent my entire life moving somewhere different every 3 or 4 years. From Upstate NY to Western NY. Then South Carolina to New Jersey. Back up to Upstate NY for High School, then to New York City for College. Lived in just about every nook and cranny in that wild metro area. I worked on Wall Street. I worked at Yankee Stadium. Delved into music every night and weekend. Created a band with my best friends in the late 90’s called Seeking Homer. Over the years, we recorded 6 CD’s, a live DVD movie and played over 200 shows a year for nearly 10 years. Bought a used New York State DOT Van. Blew it’s transmission outside the Midtown tunnel. Fixed it then blew a head gasket on the campus of a prestigious Massachusetts college – left the van there. Bought another. Lost a 2nd transmission in a toll booth on the New Jersey Turnpike. A 3rd outside of Fall River, MA. When the van ran, we touched ground in 25 states – over 300,000 miles. I ate well along the way. The fresh lobster of Maine, crabs straight from the Bay. Chili in Cincy. Gino’s in Philly. Duff’s in Buff. Never got enough.

Over the past few years I've have so many songs in me trying to see daylight. During a dark awful winter – the floodgates opened. I pushed back when the walls pushed in. But I am a better man now because of it.

I drank many cold pints in a hot Scottish sun. Took a much needed nap in the cool April grass of Rome. Went to Alaska in January. One day I left a snowy New York for a sunny San Diego. Flew back 18 hours later. Had my car window smashed and luggage stolen while on tour in Washington DC. A fan’s mom mailed me clothes from Old Navy. Wore the same clothes in Houston for 48 hours. Wore the same exact clothes for 24 more in Seattle. Had many 6-hour rides just to play a 45-minute set. Heard more “last calls” than “wake up calls”. Continental Breakfast is not the same thing as "complimentary breakfast". I’ve been known to keep the little shampoos and soaps. You never know where they become handy on the road.

I’ve played an old hotel in Herkimer. Said “Nope” to Toledo. Also in Indy. Did a show on a hot South Jersey beach, the Hatchshell in Boston, Yankee Stadium. New York’s Wetland’s Preserve. A stone cliff in Massachusetts. Ski mountains in Colorado, West Virginia, New Hampshire, Vermont and Maine. The girls rugby house in Iowa City. About 75 front porches, 100 basements and 200 back yards. I once woke up to the sound of an ice cream truck. Fell asleep at a Vegas roulette wheel. I was up all night listening to coyotes howl in the woods of Cape Cod. Someone stole my briefcase. Someone found my passport. I believe in karma.

I listen to U2, The Samples, Robert Earl Keen and Richard Shindell. I always get choked up hearing The Lord’s Prayer. I sing “Oh, Holy Night” at the top of my lungs. Once heard Sam Cook on the am dial on a lonely Wyoming highway. Saw Richie Haven’s cover Pink Floyd. Both changed my life. Got the nerve to ask a girl out after listening to “Street Fightin’ Man”. Drove from Fort Collins, CO to Pittsburgh with the Darkside of the Moon on repeat.

I learn how to play guitar and sing every night on stage. Never tried to sound like anything in particular. It’s taken a few years but I think I’m finding my voice. Like my soul, my music is a work in process. Unlike my soul, my music is open to the public. Many friends have told me I should write a book. I’m bad at English so I’ll stick to the songs. Take what you like, pass it on and leave the rest for the next person.