Crystal Shawanda's Story

I’m Native American. We’re automatically country … joined to the land and the real stories of everyday people. A long time ago, we traditionally used music as our daily prayer and as our way of giving thanks. To Native Americans, music is our everything. It’s our storytelling, our history, and our dance. We use it to remember and to forget. It’s how we celebrate life and mourn death.

Photo credit: Russ Harrington

I wrote my first song at 9, not knowing that songwriting would become my way of coping with the hopelessness I saw around me on the reservation. Growing up, I watched too many people lose hope and leave this earth … including cousins and many friends of mine. I watched as my brothers lost almost every childhood friend before they were 16. But music was my hope. It saved me, and it became a doorway for me to find freedom from the hopelessness that we all felt on the reservation. Loretta Lynn was my childhood hero … and she continues to be that for me today. I grew up watching her be a friend to my mom through her music. Mom would sing along with those records like finally someone understood her. I want to be that for someone. I was born a country music singer. I was driven to sing, and I drove my parents nuts about it.

I’m a citizen of both the U.S. and Canada, though I was born in Ontario and grew up on a reservation called Wikwemikong on Canada’s Manitoulin Island. My daddy drove a truck from Michigan straight through Nashville on his North-South run, so I had a ride whenever they would let me go. I started my trips to Nashville at the age of 11. We stood on the sidewalk in front of Nashville’s famed Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge and watched through the window. I was scared I would be told I wasn’t good enough. By 12, I had written enough songs to do my own little demo album which I sold back home to pay for more trips to Nashville. Country music had become my full time way of relating to my world. If I couldn’t write and sing, I couldn’t talk and feel.

I went twice more by 13, and this time I walked into Tootsie’s. I even asked the singer if I could come up on stage. I sang “Two More Bottles of Wine,” and I noticed the drummer say something to the singer after I finished. I later found out that the drummer told him to let me sing another song. And guess who the drummer was? Nickname: “Sticks.” He had been Loretta Lynn’s drummer for years. I have always said, “You have to wait for the good to come.” For me, the good came that day. My second song was “Stand by Me,” and when I finished it and looked up, the crowd at Tootsie’s was standing and applauding … for me. Sticks told me later, “I never heard a girl sing that song like that.”

Photo credit: Russ Harrington

Next trip, Sticks saw me walk in the door and I was on stage within minutes. I couldn’t believe he remembered me after all that time. When I got on that stage, it felt like coming home. After I sang, the owner of Tootsie’s offered me a gig. I could barely breathe. But I had to tell him no. I still had too much to learn. But that was my moment … once again … when the good came. I could then say out loud what I had known all my life … that I am a country singer. And I knew then, for the first time, that going back to the reservation was only temporary. I could feel it inside.

When I was 14, my dad and mom both came with me on three trips to Nashville. We sometimes slept in the truck because we didn’t have the money for a real motel. I started getting requests for “Two More Bottles of Wine” and “Me & Bobby McGee.” But this time when I got back to the “res,” I saw what was happening to the young people … people my age. They were losing hope. No work, no money, no hope. They were giving up on their dreams. They were escaping into alcohol or losing themselves so totally to hopelessness that they sometimes took their own lives. Within the community, we have known death too many times. We hurt together; we mourn together. So many people in my life have passed away … and I’m only 26. Someone once told me I sing like I was born with a broken heart, but I earned that. My music is what saved me. It is my lifeline. And I want to share it with anyone who is without hope and dreams. Desperation is desperation, no matter whether you live on the reservation or in the ghetto or in the suburbs.

There are several overriding themes in my life that keep me sane.
One: My mother never taught me I’m different … so I don’t believe people are different. We’re so much more the same than different.
Two: Wait for the good to come. Never lose hope.
Three: Music is my lifeline to my family, my world, and my soul. It is my prayer.
Four: I’m learning to be strong enough to share myself, to talk about what hurts.

Photo credit: Russ Harrington

I stomp my feet when I sing. I only started doing that when I stopped holding back my feelings. Now I release everything into the song. One time I stomped so much at Tootsie’s that my boot heel got stuck in the floor and I couldn’t get it out. Finally, I pulled so hard that the bottom piece of my stiletto heel came off in the floor. The floors at Tootsie’s are that old!

Shawanda means “Dawn of a New Day.” Sometimes on the res, a new day is what we needed. Music gave me that. I sing music to free myself. My name and my dream are the same.

So many little things I take for granted now. I have the means to eat healthy foods. On the res, we think young is old. There’s no money for healthy foods. My grandma died at 62. We lost her so young, but 62 on the reservation is old age … to live that long. As a sign of respect, my mother and I would do her hair with great respect and care, and I would sing “Where the Sweet Grass Blows.” Sweet grass, to us, is the hair of Mother Earth.

When we talk about extended family, we mean the whole village. When any small group of us gather, we always exchange stories. That’s how we love each other. My husband was officially welcomed to the family when he got his own story. We depend on each other. Each soul is a character, a vital piece to our whole. When one is gone, it is hard not to crumble.

Photo credit: Russ Harrington

My talk is different than my singing. I’m strong when I have to be and soft when I need to be. I throw everything I have into my song; I close my eyes, and when I open them, I realize I’m stomping and jumping to the beat. It just comes out of me.

I remember when I almost lost my dream. I had gradually lost my confidence. I woke up one day and realized that I used to lose myself in my music while I sang. I had stopped allowing the music to heal me. I had stopped being in it. I was losing what had saved me. I was smothering my dream. So, I started singing my songs over and over again and figuring out what was me. What did I feel strongly enough to lose myself in? That was my pathway to myself. It was a scary thing to live through. But I recovered the dream, and found the road back to who I was.

Crystal Shawanda’s debut album, Dawn Of A New Day, which was produced by Scott Hendricks, will be released August 19, 2008. “You Can Let Go,” her debut single was written by Cory Batten, Kent Blazy and Rory Lee Feek and is climbing the country radio charts.

Crystal Shawanda - Dawn Of A New Day Cut-By-Cut
 
Evolution
(Franne Golde/Marv Green/Kasey Livingston/Andrew Williams)

I didn’t write this song, but I could have written it. Every single line, I’ve lived. What’s really great about this song is that it’s not just an evolution of a singer. Everybody can interpret it to their own life. We all go through phases, and we all take a few wrong turns. It was so important for me to record this because somebody might think they’re just stuck in a certain phase in their life, and maybe they don’t realize that they can change it. It’s just a matter of doing it.

My Roots Are Showing
(Robin Lee Bruce/Christi Dannemiller/Whitney Duncan)

This is a fun, sassy song. But if you listen to the lyrics, it really is saying something important. It’s about being proud of where you come from and standing your ground with who you are, while never changing who you are just because you want to impress somebody. That is the philosophy of my life. And it’s nice when you can say something meaningful and make it fun.

Tender Side
(Crystal Shawanda/Mark Selby/Tia Sillers)

I’m so happy that this song made it on the album. I co-wrote it with Tia Sillers and Mark Selby, and they came in and watched my show at Tootsie’s a few times. Then we wrote together, and Tia said, “You know, when I look at you, I just think that ‘I’m a rock that nobody can roll.’” I was like, “That is so me!” I love this song because it’s saying that I’m strong enough to know when I need to be vulnerable. Every word is so true.

Baby You’re Back
(John Rich/Sharon Vaughn/Gretchen Wilson)

When I heard the song, instantly I couldn’t wait to get on stage and play it. I love being on stage. I love playing with my band. It’s just such a thrill. Performing just takes me somewhere higher. It’s a beautiful feeling, and I’m not even aware of how I am on stage. Sometimes I just go where it takes me. It’s a fun ride.

Dawn of a New Day
(Crystal Shawanda/Jamie Paulin/Jeremy Stover/Dewayne Strobel)

I co-wrote this song with some friends and my husband. My last name is Shawanda, which in Ojibwe means “dawn of a new day,” and I’ve always wanted to write a song about that. The song is not just about moving to Nashville and becoming a country music singer. It’s about believing in yourself. Being stubborn about what you want and just going after it. For me, this song is like paying homage to my family. It’s the family name, and my family has inspired me. In the song, the line “got to keep on rolling” – that’s my dad. He’s a truck driver, and he’s always rolling, and my whole family is like that. When bad things happen or things knock them down, they just get back up and try it again.

You Can Let Go
(Cory Batten/Kent Blazy/Rory Lee Feek)

It never gets any easier to sing this song. Every time I sing it, it takes me to a million different places. For me, I think the biggest way I connect to it is that I moved away from home when I was thirteen years old. At the time, I was excited to leave, and it never occurred to me to stop and think, once high school is done, you’re grown up. I kind of forced my parents to let go of me a lot sooner than they were ready to – really a lot sooner than I was ready to. This song also reminds me of when I was nine years old and my grandmother was in the hospital in a coma. I remember my mom leaning over her, crying, and saying, “I’ll take care of everybody. It will be okay.” She didn’t pass in that moment, but I remember thinking how hard that must have been to say that. That child in all of us, we want to say, “Don’t leave!”

I Need a Man
(Brett James/Hillary Lindsey/Aimee Mayo)

When I first heard it, I was afraid that it would come across too vulnerable because I am definitely a strong person. But the lyrics in the song are so powerful that I had to record it. When I sang the song in the studio, it was really coming from the place of “I love you, so quit screwing up” or “I love you, and I want this to work!” I think people can relate to that. We all want to stick it out even when it’s hard. This song shows my more vulnerable side. I’m comfortable with that. I’m realizing as I get older that it’s not such a bad thing.

What Do I Have to Do
(Trey Bruce/Leah Crutchfield)

I didn’t write this song, but I wish I did. It’s everything I love about country music. This was one of the first songs [my producer] Scott Hendricks brought to me and was essentially the song that got me my record deal. It’s an honest song. What do I have to do to get you to pay attention to me? I love it because it reminds me of Loretta Lynn and how honest she was in her music. I grew up watching my mom sing to Loretta Lynn records at the top of her lungs, and even as a young child, I still had a sense that she was finding comfort in those songs. I could tell that my mom felt like somebody finally understood her because Loretta Lynn had the courage to say what no proud woman wants to say. She had the courage to just say it. Not in a mean way, but just in an honest way.

Your Cheatin’ Heart
(Hank Williams)

I love singing my own songs, but I’m still a huge fan of other people’s songs. I grew up loving Hank Williams and “Cheatin’ Heart,” and since I was a teenager, I’ve been doing my own version – which I feel is the perfect way to pay respect to those who inspire you. Hank was a big part of why I started writing songs. He is a part of how passionate I am about music. It’s only fitting that this is on my album.

Try
(Ed Hill/Luke Laird/Hillary Lindsey)

We all have different sides to us. When I first heard this song, I was going through a rough time. This song empowered me, and it made me want to fight harder. It made me not want to give up and be that much better. Just try – that’s how I live my life. Life should be about trying.

You Can’t Take It Back
(Crystal Shawanda/Brad Warren/Brett Warren)

This song is about second chances and is a huge part of why I ended up back in Nashville. I befriended a girl, back home on the reserve, who had gotten pregnant at a young age. She needed a babysitter, and I took the job. The baby was two weeks old, and I never held a baby that small. The job was supposed to be for one week – and it turned into one year – but I fell in love with that baby, and she’s actually my godchild now. This baby renewed my life. How could I tell this baby someday when she’s grown up to follow her dreams when I was hiding back home on the reserve trying to run away from my dreams because I was afraid of failing? I saw this young mother going to school and raising her baby, and I kept thinking, “If she can be that strong, then I can be strong enough to go after what I love.”

All these songs on the album, it’s not just from a woman’s perspective. It’s really from every side. Everybody can relate to it. Everybody can connect to it. There’s no gender bashing on this album. We all make mistakes, and at the end of the day, it’s “I love you and you love me. So let’s stick it out.” – Crystal Shawanda