Steve D. Wilson

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If Not Now, When - Guitar lesson  


#ifnotnowwhen #stevewilsononline #guitarlesson #chords #spark #easylessons #guitarist #playalong #moretocome #dotcomentertainmentgroup #araudio #adamrossi #dayturnspublishing #single #acoustic  

Written by Steve D. Wilson Recorded at home in Denton, TX 2020 Additional instrumentation by Adam Rossi @ AR Audio, San Francisco, CA 

If Not Now, When? 

Wretched daylight Beaming through my window again, Today I'm gonna make you my friend. Yellow sunlight, Feeding my soul what it needs Healing up the scars it bleeds Where ever that leads... 

Makes it hard to learn when you're doing all the talkin Starin at your feet makes you stumble when you're walkin Chin on the ground, lookin for a place to land While life is dealin lessons with the back of its hand Never get a flame on the end of that candle While you're standin  out in the rain, Never feel the warmth of the light upon our soul Until you face that sun again, So I ask you friend, If not know, I ask you when? 

Gonna find a little water Think I'm gonna jump right in Let the breeze blow across my skin Consume a little soul food Heal the melancholy grief Restoring my belief 

Makes it hard to learn when you're doing all the talking Staring at your feet makes you stumble when you're walkin Chin on the ground lookin for a place to land While life is dealing lessons with the back of its hand Never get a flame on the end of your candle While you're standing out in the rain Never feel the warmth of the light upon your soul Until you face that sun again, so I ask you friend, If not now, I ask you when? 

When you gonna learn that it's all under your control? You can hit the rock or learn to roll Stand outside, and curse the the rain or step inside and get warm again Embrace the II change or stay the same Let a little bit of love heal all that pain The choice is yours so lets begin We've got no time to waste my friend 

Never feel the light on your soul my friend Until you face that sun again Feel the light Spark the flame On your feet and lets play the game I've asked before but I'll ask again, that if not now, well then I ask you when?

Riding Out A Hurricane  

Dear B. 

The first time I met you, I could tell you were sizing me up.  My first impression was that you were kind of an asshole.  I knew both of your guitar players from college and the music world we shared, and they introduced us as I met up with your band before a show in Shreveport.  

You could definitely do some drinking, and the bottle of Gentleman Jack that I brought for y’all was cracked open in no time.  We had a great time hanging before and after the show, and despite the initial cold silence, you and I became good friends over the years.   
You and your sisters had a pretty tough upbringing, and you more or less raised each other while your Mom was too busy dealing with her own demons.  Many of those Demons were passed on to you I think. 

This lead to a cynical sense of dark humor, and you made everyone laugh all of the time.  Looking back I see now that sarcasm was your coping mechanism.  It covered the pain, and when fueled by alcohol, was sharp and biting.  
When you took the stage, you played the bass like it was a war hammer.  I don’t know that anyone would accuse you of being an amazing bassist anymore than anyone would accuse me of being a proficient guitarist, but you made up for any shortcomings with a personality that was as huge as the state in which you were born.   
When I left the military, we did some songwriting together, and from time to time we’d have late night phone conversations to attempt to cure the loneliness and disconnection we both felt from the loss of all we knew.  For me, it was everything.  For you, I think losing your band was the biggest loss you knew.  You missed the brotherhood of the road.  You missed knowing your place in the world, on the stage with your band.  It damn wasn't about missing the road, because we both agreed...the road sucks balls.  But it's the shared misery with people you love and that love you that was missing.  We shared that sense of loss together and tried to make sense of it.  You never failed to tell me that you loved me.  I never, in a million years, thought that of all people in your band, that you and I would become such good friends, but we did.  
Our paths last crossed at a Sevendust concert.  If I’d known that was the last time I’d ever see you, I would have spent more time with you that night.  We’d both come with other people, and you know how concerts can be.  You always preferred to stand in the background and watch from a distance.  I used to like to get up front. I don’t even remember if we said goodbye after the show.  
When my ex-wife kicked me out, I moved to the coast, and we had several more late night conversations, and I could always sense the melancholy you carried around.  I guess I just believed we’d both get through it.  Then you were gone.  As I was escaping a Hurricane, and staying with an ex-girlfriend in East Texas, I received the news that you were gone.  It wasn’t like we didn’t see it coming, but it still hit me like a baseball bat to the chest.  I was so broke, I couldn’t even make it to your memorial.  I hated myself for that. 
As I was cleaning out my mailbox, and came across one of the emails from you that I refused to delete, I found a couple of songs you sent me in 2012.   I failed to listen back then, but listened finally.  One of those two songs just happened to have no lyrics, and it was sitting there waiting for the last 7 years.  Two years after you were gone, I heard your ghost here in Denton.  I sat down, wrote some words, and recorded it with our good friend Josh last night.  I hope you hear it, and like what we've done. 
Brink, I love you and I'll see you when I get there. 


An Open Letter to Daniel Ek & Martin Lorentzon 




First, I would like to introduce myself.  My name is Steve D. Wilson, and I’ve been an artist on your platform since 2015.  I’ve been part of the massive change in the musical landscape since 1997, when I used my Yahoo account to create my own “site” on Geocities, which eventually became its own website (  Using distribution services such as Tunecore, and CDBaby, I’ve been a self-financed, self-released artist on the internet for over 20 years now.  

I realize that probably doesn’t mean much to you, as your platform is still including many of my previously released songs and titles under the page of another Steve Wilson.   Despite this, I’m grateful for your service and its ability to allow my music to be heard by many that might never have had access or awareness.  You have a very powerful, and effective platform.  It is a shame that you choose to see the commodity you are selling as your own personal well-spring of slave-labor.  

While it seems your company's executives have cleared around $26.5 million dollars per year between the 8 of you, monthly royalty payments to artists average about $0.006 to $0.0084 per stream.  As I’ve been the owner of a company, I am quite familiar with the struggle to turn a profit.  With that in mind, while I was operating my company, rather than pay myself an exorbitant salary, I paid my employees and poured that money back into the company.  Unfortunately this was not enough to save it.  Evidently, the theory of the top leadership of Spotify, is to continue to live lavishly on the backs of those who provide them with the freedom to do so. 


While you and Martin take home approximately $9.7 million US dollars per year, I would need approximately 5.5 BILLION streams to reach such a sum.  That’s Billion with a capital B.  

Can you please explain how your CFO and board can possibly see this as a fair payment schedule for a product that you do not create, produce, improve or own?  While the artist creates, Spotify exploits. That’s a shame. 

Spotify is a well-designed, very user-friendly platform.  As a music-listener, I enjoy the low, monthly cost to stream and save the songs and music that I like into playlists, and I enjoy the convenience offered by seamlessly using it on multiple devices.  Unfortunately, as an artist, I live with a sense disloyalty to myself and my fellow artists, sacrificing principle for convenience.   
It seems that the leadership at Spotify places little value on the product it offers, and it is reflected in society.  As consumers become complacent with the ease of accessing their favorite music monthly at the same cost as a couple of lattes, CD purchases have become obsolete, and concert attendance is at an all-time low.  

Aside from placing a miniscule value on the content that you depend upon for your million dollar salaries, I would truly like to understand how you’ve done anything to improve upon the trend of piracy started by Napster?  
Your company takes a product that takes thousands of dollars to create,  copies code to place it in a common library, and then sells it for almost nothing, simply to provide it’s owners a luxurious lifestyle.  After legislative acknowledgement that this arrangement is unconstitutional and is in dire need of restructuring, in an effort to salvage your comfort, you have chosen to appeal this decision.  We, as artists, saw the passage of the Music Modernization Act as a potential Band-Aid upon an old wound, opened by the greed of app developers.  Your company's decision to appeal the near-unanimous decisions of our nation’s electors, leaves us with only one impression: You value your minimal input more than the product you provide.  You believe in yourselves more than the artists that feed you.  
I urge you to reconsider your selfish, and clearly greed-induced exploitation of music artists around the globe, and ask you to sacrifice your love of money for what is just.  Pay your artists for their content on a scale that is fair.  

On behalf of every music creator on the globe, 


Steve D. Wilson

Grim Journeys Make for Badass Tunes  

After a virtual songwriting session with my Operation Encore friends, I received an email from Guy Jaquier, one of our boardmembers and a fellow songwriter, regarding a song he'd been working on. He'd just finished reading the book "Grim Journey" and was traveling through the area of the Donner Pass as he penned the lyrics to a song called "This Journey Never Ends" and wondered if I might be interested in working on it with him. 

After listening to a simple sketch of the song, I got my hands dirty and tried to put my stink on it a little. The song took a darker turn, and became almost an epic funeral dirge. As we bounced the song off of Adam Rossi at AR Audio, he suggested a slightly more upbeat tempo, with a good old-fashioned jam at the end. Along with Vincente Rodriguez, Kevin White and James Deprato, Adam and the dudes put together a tune that blew me away the first time that I listened. My very first thought: "I can't wait to play that live!" 
I'm incredibly proud of this tune, and the work that Guy and I put into it, the magic that Adam, Kevin, James and Vincente created, and the way that it all came together to create this kickass song. I hope you'll dig it. Ladies and Gents, I give you "This Journey Never Ends" by Guy Jaquier and Steve Wilson.

A Spring Night in Duluth 

It was April, 1957.  The snow slowly melted around the periphery, the sun was out and the sidewalks were clear.  It was a beautiful, Spring day in Minnesota.  

“I was stationed with this dude in Germany.  He’s doing a show tonight in town if you want to head over.  Might be good for a couple of beers afterwards and I’ll introduce ya.”  

After wiping the sweat from his brow with the handkerchief from his back pocket, Don wiped his hands off and responded  

“Yeah, I’ll go along.  Anything to get out of the barracks for a while.”  

That evening, the two airman made their way from the Duluth Air Base over to the Duluth Armory.   Nearly 2 two decades prior, the city added a flat, multi-storied structure on the northern side of the Armory containing classrooms, a kitchen, restrooms, and a stage with a fly-loft.  Elvis Presley had two singles in the top 10 that week, but Don’s buddy’s friend had just dropped a record that week.  “He’s a good fella.  Funny as hell.  Smartass.  You’ll love him. Song is called “I Walk the Line”.  

After the performance, the two young men headed to the parking lot, and knocked on the bus door.  The tall man in black towered over them as he opened the door.  At 6’1”, Don was no midget, but this guy made him look like a field goal kicker.  He struck an imposing silhouette in the doorway, yet the grin on his face was welcoming.  “C’mon in fellas!” he said as he backed into the bus inviting them in.   

The conversation continued over a few beers, as they told stories of their brief time in the service so far.   “I was in the Air Force for 8 years” he said with a wink and a grin “from 1950-1954.”   

They three laughed and shared their beers, until it came time to head back to the base.   
Don lost track of his buddy over the years, but thought of him often as he saw the man in black on the television and heard his songs on the radio.   

50 years later, he would notice a bumper sticker affixed to his youngest son’s car.   
In white letters on a black background, it read ‘GOD BLESS JOHNNY CASH’.  

Indeed, he thought to himself, and smiled quietly.  


Who Did It Better? 



Okay, maybe y'all can settle the argument...Who did it better?

Birdie v. Phoenix

Lotta bird references going on here. 

Much Love

The Black Doves vox aka Steve Wilson


Steve D. Wilson

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The second EP by singer/songwriter Steve D. Wilson featuring "Cheyenne", "Worth It", "To Be Honest Juliet", "Coming Back To Texas", and " This Journey Never Ends" released 3.8.2019 Produced by Adam Rossi, AR Audio, San Francisco, CA Exec Produced by Operation Encore

Read more…

The Singles

Available 4.16.2020

Featuring 9 songs written and recorded by Steve D. Wilson, The Black Doves, and The Lloyd Smith Project.  With performances by Marshal Dutton (Hinder/), Matt Novesky (Blue October), Neil Swanson (Diamante/Orianthi), Adam Rossi (Jeffrey Halford/AR Audio) and Jeremy Coan (Faktion). 

The Lloyd Smith Project