An unassuming fellow with not-quite-Coke-bottle frames, a cherubic face, and a kindly grin, I first saw Paul Faith perform at a bygone Coffee Science open mic in 2021. I wasn’t quite ready for the passionate, diaphragm-driven belting that forms the emotional climax of his songs, and I was equally surprised to learn that songwriting was a new pursuit for Faith—something his post-pandemic open mic dabbling had encouraged him to attempt. In a matter of just a few years, he’s woven himself solidly into the tapestry of the New Orleans music scene, not just by virtue of his own music (backed by his Barstool Prophets band), but through the community he has helped foster. A primary way he’s accomplished that has been through The Living Room songwriter showcase he’s hosted for the past three years on the vast majority of Friday nights at Skeeta Hawk Brewing. From that songwriting community, he’s now curated A New Orleans Protest Song Compilation, 21 original tracks by local artists taking part in the time-honored American tradition of speaking out in verse. The album became available on streaming platforms in June, and the official release show happens on the auspicious date of July 4 at Chickie Wah Wah. Participating artists will be unified by a backing band (on loan from Basch Jernigan, who drafted a tune for the album), and proceeds will go to Immigration Services and Legal Advocacy. I met with Faith at (where else?) Skeeta Hawk to discuss the project.
You only started writing songs later in life, so tell me about discovering that in yourself.
Like a lot of people, the pandemic made me prioritize what was important in life. I had learned to play guitar and harmonica when I was in high school, and I had a crappy band in college like a lot of people, and then I basically just played at home every once in a while. And during the pandemic it was like: There’s this thing that’s important to me and that I like to do, but that I don’t ever really do. So I started playing more at home. I wasn’t really writing songs. When things began to open up, I got a weekly gig at Monkey Monkey cafe in Mid-City, and I played a bunch of covers there. Mostly Bob Dylan and Neil Young songs, every Sunday. I did that for about a year, and then my wife began to go back to school, so she had a class on Thursday nights, and I needed something to do on Thursday nights. So I began to go to Joshua the Bock’s open mic at Coffee Science. And I would go and play the covers, and every week Josh would be like, “Oh, another cover?” You know, he’s so wonderful, so polite, but very slightly pressuring me. And I was like, “I gotta write a song to impress this guy.” So I credit Josh all the time. I really started writing songs because I became a part of that open mic, and I wanted every week to go and have something new to share. And then thereafter, I wrote enough songs that I thought were decent to scrape together an album to record. A lot grew out of that open mic. And then after that open mic night I played here a few times, at Skeeta Hawk, and I started a songwriters’ night, and that’s how I found bandmates.
What inspired you to make the leap? I’ve gone to a lot of open mics too and never thought, “You know what? I think I should start a songwriters’ night.”
Well, I had played here a couple of times, like three-hour gigs. I played everything I knew, and some I didn’t. And then Josh did a little songwriter night here, I think, once. And then he left for the summer, to go home to Chicago. And the owner was like, “Are you gonna keep doing what you were doing, or next time are you gonna do what Josh did with the songwriter night?” And I was like, “Oh, that’s what I want to do, like 100%.” I don’t ever want to play three hours! I barely want to play 30 minutes. But it seemed like a natural thing to me, because Josh was leaving, his open mic went on hiatus, and it was like: I still love seeing all those people, I want to get them together. And I’d been playing music a lot more regularly, and I thought it would be fun to keep getting people together on a regular basis… I feel like that’s a recurring theme with me, in my music career. I just kind of stumble and trip into things, and find myself in a situation that far exceeds my expectations… I think I have gotten here because I say “yes” to a lot of things.
Let’s talk about this protest album. Did you have a vague idea of, “I should do a compilation with my friends and all this talent,” and then you narrowed down the genre? Or had you started writing songs that would qualify as protest songs and wanted to get more people in on it? What was the chicken-and-egg situation of the protest album?
Good question… Early this year, I was thinking of what I could do that was meaningful in a way that I had not done before. In a way, that’s protesting the current administration, fascism, all these things that were happening every day that made me feel very depressed to be here, and to be an American. Some people that I admire from a songwriting perspective have a very protest[-driven] background, like Neil Young and Bob Dylan. I kind of got this idea in my head about reaching out to people from the songwriter night to have them write a new, original protest song as something we could do to make an impact, or help us process what’s happening right now. I had never written a protest song. I didn’t think I’d be particularly good at it. I was hoping they would be particularly good at it! And at the end of the day we had 21 people, including me, who actually crossed the finish line.
Did you have to cut some?
No. I told people: I will not be the arbiter of protest. I am not the expert on protest. I think I did probably reach out to like-minded individuals who were upset about systemic racism and ICE in the streets, that sort of thing. But I told them, “If you are receiving this message, you passed the rigorous application process. You passed! I’m not gonna edit your song, I’m not gonna accept or deny it. I know and I trust and I love you.” So yeah, if they turned it in, they’re on the album. It’s pretty neat to see.
It’s a nice combination of genres and themes. ICE shows up a lot, but I noticed a few songs also reference, “Does your mama know about this?” The accountability factor. I thought that was a really interesting approach.
There’s at least two, but more than a couple, that reference your mama, and there is a shame element? Or yeah, an accountability element. I feel like my song has that a little. I will say I had a couple inspirations, certainly, from people on this list. Kelsey Mae [Wilburn] of Ever More Nest does a big Christmas show every other year in which she has everybody write a brand new, original Christmas song. And she invited me to be a part of that Christmas show, so I wrote a brand new holiday song. And then Lyla DiPaul did post a one-minute thing on Instagram of a little anti-ICE song that she had written. And then Dusky [Waters], who’s a good friend, always mentions to me, “It’d be cool, Paul, if you did an emo show or something.” She’s big on themes. And clearly, with BlackAmericana Fest, she’s a big idea person and really I admire that about her. But all these things were kicking around in my head, and I think were the impetus for it. I credit those folks for kind of making that idea come to me.
Album artwork by Kara Heck
And everyone was responsible for their own recording?
Yeah. And the majority really did record on their own. But Sky Choice, who is my guitarist, recorded about four or five artists in their little DIY studio at their house. And then once everybody turned in their songs, Sky did a light master, or made sure we leveled everything appropriately, which was really valuable. I would not have been able to do this without Sky.
So you got all the songs, and you seem to have them organized very intentionally, “Disc One” and “Disc Two.” I was wondering how you organized those, thematically.
I struggled a little bit to get some thematic elements that would fit into a Side 1, Side 2. But 21 songs is really long. I wanted to divide it in a way that made sense and maybe gave a start, middle, and end to each side that was digestible to people. The first side is supposed to be songs that unite people. So I called it, “Come Together Now, In Both Hope & Anger.” So they’re maybe uniting songs, either because you’re really pissed off, or because you see the light at the end of the tunnel. And the second side—“A Lament, A Call To Change”—they’re songs that lament the status quo, current conditions, or say, “Here’s how we can be better.” Or, “Can we be better?” I think Dusky [Waters], her song, I put it last for a reason. It felt like a capstone. Dusky called that song “250 Years” before we even decided on the show date of the 4th.
Tell me about the benefit aspect of the show.
It is for Immigration Services and Legal Advocacy. They’re a local organization that provides free legal services for immigrants and their families. Immigrants in detention centers. Definitely aligned with the album.
I can tell it’s going to be a really great thing! I am curious—prior to your project, was there a protest song of Dylan’s or Young’s that you thought of as like, the protest song?
You know what? Not of Dylan or Neil Young, although they have many good ones. John Prine, “Your Flag Decal Won’t Get You Into Heaven Anymore,” I think is so smart, so well-written. Humorous. It’s a perfect protest song. I think it’s easier to write a protest song that is just sad. And maybe there’s no little nugget of how things could be better, or what could be changed. I think John Prine, he’s just one of these magic people. That song is sad, funny, angry… all of it. And it achieves a perfect balance. You laugh, and you’re also like, “Gah! Yeah! I’m mad!” So that was my North Star when I was thinking about my protest song.
The release show for A New Orleans Protest Song Compilation, featuring 16 artists from the album with a house band, will take place at Chickie Wah Wah on July 4. For more info, check out @realpaulfaith on Instagram, paulfaith.net, and paulfaith.bandcamp.com.
Photos by Angela Calonder
