Cape Breton Hotel and Pub

Steve Poltz

This is the story of Steve Poltz. 

Some people start life with a plan. Not Steve. He opens himself up to the universe in a way most of us will never be loose enough to achieve, and the universe responds with a wink, a seemingly bottomless well of inspiration, and the talent to truly connect with an audience. While 2021 could have found him adrift, faced with a tour moratorium the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in decades, it opened a door — literally, his friend Oliver Wood of The Wood Brother’s door  — to creating an exuberant, thoughtful batch of songs that celebrate life in all of its stages.

The resulting album is called Stardust & Satellites [Red House / Compass Records].

“I just make stuff up,” he exclaims, quipping, “it sounded good to say that.” Steve is the sort of prolific writer and collaborator who downplays what seems like a non-stop geyser of creativity. “I have no rhyme or reason for what I do. It’s all magic. I go by instinct. It just felt right, so I went with it.”

The “it” in question is one of those serendipitous situations that were created by the pandemic. Steve, a road dog and performance junkie who regularly spends 300+ days a year on the road, bringing it to the people, should’ve been on tour last year. Esteemed Nashville roots rockers The Wood Brothers (Chris Wood being a former neighbor to Steve), also should’ve been on tour. Stuck in Nashville, Steve often joined the Wood Brothers for outdoor socially distant hangs, and, on a whim, decided to record one song with Oliver Wood and Jano Rix.

They cut “Frenemy,” a wistful, “keep your friends close and your enemies even closer” song that made it clear to all involved that they’d stumbled onto something special. With no studio clock ticking, no schedule or deadlines to meet, the companionship and ability to collaborate with like-minded musicians added a joyful diversion to what was a boring-ass year. Musically, the sky was the limit, and the group of musicians and friends embarked on a musical experience that found cast and crew reaching toward the stratosphere with Stardust & Satellites, which Oliver and Jano Rix of The Wood Brothers produced.

The album begins with the lithe fingerpicking of “Wrong Town,” an anthem summing up the life of an itinerant songwriter/performer, where he declares, “The truth is I have no plan at all,” going on to cite Emmylou Harris and Don Was as his style icons. It’s a “pleased to meet me” sort of song, and it was written to greet the audience at the Telluride Bluegrass Festival in 2019. “I wanted to write an opening song,” Steve recalls.“I sat down with fellow Nashville songwriter Anthony da Costa, and ‘Wrong Town’ just appeared.”

But even gonzo guys have their moments where the cycle of life seems to be almost too much to bear. “Conveyor Belt” is a heartfelt song, a song that could only be written at a certain point in one’s life, and that point is when you’re saying goodbye to your parents and addressing your own mortality. Steve explains, “My mom passed away, and then a few years later my dad crossed over. I started thinking that I was next on the conveyor belt in a factory on the wheel of time. Next thing I know, I grabbed my guitar and this song appeared to me like a gift. It didn’t exist and then voila, there it was. I feel lucky to be a conduit.”

The song is written over a gentle, repetitive melody that moves along with the inevitability of ye old sands of time. For fans, it’s a different side of Steve, using a voice and a new solemnity for a song that touches a universal nerve.

On one of the last nights of the recording sessions, Steve locked himself up in his writing room and within an hour, had conjured the catchy, effervescent “Can O’ Pop,” destined to be the radio single. 

“Jano from The Wood Brothers was leaving the studio, and I asked him to give me a beat, and I told him I’d write a song with the beat he gave me,” recalls Steve. The exuberant, syncopated groove seems to bubble up as Steve admits, in his best mid-period Dylan, “I want to feel the fizzy rhythm with you.”

“Hey, Everyone loves a can of pop” he cracks.

Among other highlights, “It’s Baseball Season” seesaws on a sunny acoustic guitar as he pays homage to America’s favorite pastime. Poltz is a true fan, and the song’s laid-back, relaxed vibe speaks of carefree days at the ballpark. Steve even pays tribute to legendary baseball announcer Ernie Harwell.

With a cult following that includes fellow musicians, regular folks and festival goers who stumble onto his performances, there’s no common denominator to Steve’s fans. Born in Halifax, Nova Scotia and raised in San Diego, CA Steve toured and recorded with San Diego cult favorites The Rugburns (they still play annual sold-out reunion shows). But it was through his creative partnership with Jewel that he vaulted into the national spotlight; co-writing her multiplatinum Billboard Hot 100-busting smash, “You Were Meant For Me,” and continues to work with her to this day.

Over the years, the Nashville-based troubadour has built a fascinating solo catalog, earmarked by his debut, One Left Shoe, Dreamhouse, Folk Singer, and 2019’s Shine On. No Depression crowned him, “A sardonic provocateur with a lighthearted acoustic-driven wit, suggesting at times a sunnier, less psychedelic Todd Snider, or maybe a less wan, washed Jackson Brown,” while the Associated Press dubbed him “part busker, part Iggy Pop and part Robin Williams, a freewheeling folkie with a quick wit and big heart.”

Among other collaborations, GRAMMY-winning bluegrass phenom Billy Strings tapped him to co-write “Leaders” on 2021’s Renewal and he’s co-written with Molly Tuttle, Sierra Hull, Nicki Bluhm, Oliver Wood and even Mojo Nixon.

He’s resumed his tour schedule, and when he comes to your town, he’ll say, as he does every night, “This is the best show I’ve ever played.” And hell, maybe it just is.

Ultimately, Steve never needed a plan.

He’s something of a natural, after all.

Open in Spotify

Open in Spotify

Open in Spotify

Steve Poltz Redux

This is the story of Steve Poltz. 

Some people start life with a plan. Not Steve. He opens himself up to the universe in a way most of us will never be loose enough to achieve, and the universe responds with a wink, a seemingly bottomless well of inspiration, and the talent to truly connect with an audience. While 2021 could have found him adrift, faced with a tour moratorium the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in decades, it opened a door — literally, his friend Oliver Wood of The Wood Brother’s door  — to creating an exuberant, thoughtful batch of songs that celebrate life in all of its stages.

The resulting album is called Stardust & Satellites [Red House / Compass Records].

“I just make stuff up,” he exclaims, quipping, “it sounded good to say that.” Steve is the sort of prolific writer and collaborator who downplays what seems like a non-stop geyser of creativity. “I have no rhyme or reason for what I do. It’s all magic. I go by instinct. It just felt right, so I went with it.”

The “it” in question is one of those serendipitous situations that were created by the pandemic. Steve, a road dog and performance junkie who regularly spends 300+ days a year on the road, bringing it to the people, should’ve been on tour last year. Esteemed Nashville roots rockers The Wood Brothers (Chris Wood being a former neighbor to Steve), also should’ve been on tour. Stuck in Nashville, Steve often joined the Wood Brothers for outdoor socially distant hangs, and, on a whim, decided to record one song with Oliver Wood and Jano Rix.

They cut “Frenemy,” a wistful, “keep your friends close and your enemies even closer” song that made it clear to all involved that they’d stumbled onto something special. With no studio clock ticking, no schedule or deadlines to meet, the companionship and ability to collaborate with like-minded musicians added a joyful diversion to what was a boring-ass year. Musically, the sky was the limit, and the group of musicians and friends embarked on a musical experience that found cast and crew reaching toward the stratosphere with Stardust & Satellites, which Oliver and Jano Rix of The Wood Brothers produced.

The album begins with the lithe fingerpicking of “Wrong Town,” an anthem summing up the life of an itinerant songwriter/performer, where he declares, “The truth is I have no plan at all,” going on to cite Emmylou Harris and Don Was as his style icons. It’s a “pleased to meet me” sort of song, and it was written to greet the audience at the Telluride Bluegrass Festival in 2019. “I wanted to write an opening song,” Steve recalls.“I sat down with fellow Nashville songwriter Anthony da Costa, and ‘Wrong Town’ just appeared.”

But even gonzo guys have their moments where the cycle of life seems to be almost too much to bear. “Conveyor Belt” is a heartfelt song, a song that could only be written at a certain point in one’s life, and that point is when you’re saying goodbye to your parents and addressing your own mortality. Steve explains, “My mom passed away, and then a few years later my dad crossed over. I started thinking that I was next on the conveyor belt in a factory on the wheel of time. Next thing I know, I grabbed my guitar and this song appeared to me like a gift. It didn’t exist and then voila, there it was. I feel lucky to be a conduit.”

The song is written over a gentle, repetitive melody that moves along with the inevitability of ye old sands of time. For fans, it’s a different side of Steve, using a voice and a new solemnity for a song that touches a universal nerve.

On one of the last nights of the recording sessions, Steve locked himself up in his writing room and within an hour, had conjured the catchy, effervescent “Can O’ Pop,” destined to be the radio single. 

“Jano from The Wood Brothers was leaving the studio, and I asked him to give me a beat, and I told him I’d write a song with the beat he gave me,” recalls Steve. The exuberant, syncopated groove seems to bubble up as Steve admits, in his best mid-period Dylan, “I want to feel the fizzy rhythm with you.”

“Hey, Everyone loves a can of pop” he cracks.

Among other highlights, “It’s Baseball Season” seesaws on a sunny acoustic guitar as he pays homage to America’s favorite pastime. Poltz is a true fan, and the song’s laid-back, relaxed vibe speaks of carefree days at the ballpark. Steve even pays tribute to legendary baseball announcer Ernie Harwell.

With a cult following that includes fellow musicians, regular folks and festival goers who stumble onto his performances, there’s no common denominator to Steve’s fans. Born in Halifax, Nova Scotia and raised in San Diego, CA Steve toured and recorded with San Diego cult favorites The Rugburns (they still play annual sold-out reunion shows). But it was through his creative partnership with Jewel that he vaulted into the national spotlight; co-writing her multiplatinum Billboard Hot 100-busting smash, “You Were Meant For Me,” and continues to work with her to this day.

Over the years, the Nashville-based troubadour has built a fascinating solo catalog, earmarked by his debut, One Left Shoe, Dreamhouse, Folk Singer, and 2019’s Shine On. No Depression crowned him, “A sardonic provocateur with a lighthearted acoustic-driven wit, suggesting at times a sunnier, less psychedelic Todd Snider, or maybe a less wan, washed Jackson Brown,” while the Associated Press dubbed him “part busker, part Iggy Pop and part Robin Williams, a freewheeling folkie with a quick wit and big heart.”

Among other collaborations, GRAMMY-winning bluegrass phenom Billy Strings tapped him to co-write “Leaders” on 2021’s Renewal and he’s co-written with Molly Tuttle, Sierra Hull, Nicki Bluhm, Oliver Wood and even Mojo Nixon.

He’s resumed his tour schedule, and when he comes to your town, he’ll say, as he does every night, “This is the best show I’ve ever played.” And hell, maybe it just is.

Ultimately, Steve never needed a plan.

He’s something of a natural, after all.

Open in Spotify

Open in Spotify

Open in Spotify

An Afternoon with Steve Poltz

Throughout over three decades in music, Steve Poltz did it all and more—often shared by way of his rockin’ countrified folk slices of sardonic Americana (hatched in Halifax). Of course, he co-wrote Jewel’s multiplatinum Hot 100-topping megahit “You Were Meant For Me,” but he also went on a whale watch with her and a few federales that turned into a drug bust. The two still share the story at every festival they play together. He made his bones as the frontman for underground legends The Rugburns, who burned rubber crisscrossing the continent on marathon tours and still pop up once in a while for the rare and quickly sold out reunion gig.

In 20 years since his full-length solo debut, One Left Shoe, he blessed the world’s ears with twelve solo records, spanning the acclaimed 2010 Dreamhouse and most recently Folk Singer in 2015. NPR summed it up best, “Critics and fans alike now regard Poltz as a talented and prolific songwriter.” By 2016, he survived a stroke, endured anything the music industry could throw at him, and still performed like “280 days a year.” 

However, he still never lived in Nashville, which represents a turning point in the story and the genesis of his 2018 Red House Records debut, Shine On…

“My girlfriend Sharon sold the condo we were living in, and I was ready to live in a van, which seemed like a good idea for one night—then I decided I wanted a kitchen and a closet,” he admits. “Sharon wanted to move to Nashville, because she thought it would be good for me. It caused a huge fight. I’d been in San Diego since 1980, and that’s where I cut my musical teeth. I thought I’d never leave.  In fact, at the height of our fight, I said, ‘I’m not leaving San Diego. I am San Diego!’ This makes me laugh now. As soon as I got to Nashville, I immediately knew I wanted to make a record in ‘Music City’.”

So, the man who once protested “I am San Diego” made Shine On in his new home of Nashville with one of its elder statesmen behind the board, Will Kimbrough [Emmylou Harris, Rodney Crowell]. Holing up in the studio at Kimbrough’s house, nothing would be off limits. Together, they unlocked the kind of creative chemistry you only hear about in band bios—but for real.

“I respect Will so much, and I’d always wanted to work with him,” says Steve. “Like two mad scientists, we just took our time and had fun. We didn’t overthink things. Everything felt organic. We ate soul food and drank lots of really good coffee. We tried out weird sounds, and the songs always started with voice and guitar—no click track, just how I’d play them. I road tested many of them, and they were ripe for the picking when recording time came around.”

Evoking themes of “hope, love, contemplation, celebration of Wednesday, pharmacists, and the fact that windows are not inanimate objects and they sometimes have conversations with each other,” the record represents Steve at his most inspired and insightful. The opener and title track “Shine On” pairs a delicate vocal with lithely plucked acoustic strings as he urges, “Shine on, shine on.”

“The song was a gift,” he recalls. “I woke up really early in Encinitas, California at Sharon’s sister’s house. The sun was just coming up. I was all alone in perfect solitude. My guitar was there. The sky was gorgeous. I wrote it as a poem. Everyone always told me, ‘Never start a record with a really slow song.’  So, seeing that I have O.D.D. (Oppositional Defiance Disorder), I  started my record with one. I love the mood it sets. It’s almost like my mission statement, trying to find some semblance of positivity and light in a sometimes ruthless world.”

On “Pharmacist,” rustling guitar and harmonica propel a tale of “this dude having a crush on his pharmacist.” It also serves as an extension of his friendship with neighbor Scot Sax—with whom he shares the podcast “One Hit Neighbors” (since they’ve both had one hit song). Meanwhile, he joined forces with Molly Tuttle on “4th of July,” which, of course, came to life on the 3rd of July. “Ballin On Wednesday” drew its title and chorus from a diner checkout girl (with a super cool gold tooth) who Steve paid with a $100 bill and she replied, “Oooh, ballin’ on a Wednesday.” The finale “All Things Shine” skips along on sparse instrumentation as Steve sends a message.

“‘All Things Shine’ came about after one of the many mass shootings on this planet,” he sighs. “I was feeling overwhelmed. So, I wanted to put my feelings into words and melody. I was thinking that even if we’re feeling hopeless that there is still beauty. All things shine in their own way.”

Who could contend that?

In the end, for everything you can call him “searcher, smartass, movie freak, lover of technology, news junkie, baseball fan to nth degree, lapsed catholic who still believes in god even though all his friends are atheists and think he’s an idiot, and maker of fun,” you might just call Steve that little light in the dark we all need in this day and age. 

Or Nashville’s Canadian Jiminy Cricket…

“I hope Shine On makes listeners smile and feel welcome, and they want to share it with their friends,” he leaves off. “Music means energy to me. All things. It connects us, makes us move, helps us relax, and inspires us to change things up.”

An Evening with Steve Poltz

Throughout over three decades in music, Steve Poltz did it all and more—often shared by way of his rockin’ countrified folk slices of sardonic Americana (hatched in Halifax). Of course, he co-wrote Jewel’s multiplatinum Hot 100-topping megahit “You Were Meant For Me,” but he also went on a whale watch with her and a few federales that turned into a drug bust. The two still share the story at every festival they play together. He made his bones as the frontman for underground legends The Rugburns, who burned rubber crisscrossing the continent on marathon tours and still pop up once in a while for the rare and quickly sold out reunion gig.

In 20 years since his full-length solo debut, One Left Shoe, he blessed the world’s ears with twelve solo records, spanning the acclaimed 2010 Dreamhouse and most recently Folk Singer in 2015. NPR summed it up best, “Critics and fans alike now regard Poltz as a talented and prolific songwriter.” By 2016, he survived a stroke, endured anything the music industry could throw at him, and still performed like “280 days a year.” 

However, he still never lived in Nashville, which represents a turning point in the story and the genesis of his 2018 Red House Records debut, Shine On…

“My girlfriend Sharon sold the condo we were living in, and I was ready to live in a van, which seemed like a good idea for one night—then I decided I wanted a kitchen and a closet,” he admits. “Sharon wanted to move to Nashville, because she thought it would be good for me. It caused a huge fight. I’d been in San Diego since 1980, and that’s where I cut my musical teeth. I thought I’d never leave.  In fact, at the height of our fight, I said, ‘I’m not leaving San Diego. I am San Diego!’ This makes me laugh now. As soon as I got to Nashville, I immediately knew I wanted to make a record in ‘Music City’.”

So, the man who once protested “I am San Diego” made Shine On in his new home of Nashville with one of its elder statesmen behind the board, Will Kimbrough [Emmylou Harris, Rodney Crowell]. Holing up in the studio at Kimbrough’s house, nothing would be off limits. Together, they unlocked the kind of creative chemistry you only hear about in band bios—but for real.

“I respect Will so much, and I’d always wanted to work with him,” says Steve. “Like two mad scientists, we just took our time and had fun. We didn’t overthink things. Everything felt organic. We ate soul food and drank lots of really good coffee. We tried out weird sounds, and the songs always started with voice and guitar—no click track, just how I’d play them. I road tested many of them, and they were ripe for the picking when recording time came around.”

Evoking themes of “hope, love, contemplation, celebration of Wednesday, pharmacists, and the fact that windows are not inanimate objects and they sometimes have conversations with each other,” the record represents Steve at his most inspired and insightful. The opener and title track “Shine On” pairs a delicate vocal with lithely plucked acoustic strings as he urges, “Shine on, shine on.”

“The song was a gift,” he recalls. “I woke up really early in Encinitas, California at Sharon’s sister’s house. The sun was just coming up. I was all alone in perfect solitude. My guitar was there. The sky was gorgeous. I wrote it as a poem. Everyone always told me, ‘Never start a record with a really slow song.’  So, seeing that I have O.D.D. (Oppositional Defiance Disorder), I  started my record with one. I love the mood it sets. It’s almost like my mission statement, trying to find some semblance of positivity and light in a sometimes ruthless world.”

On “Pharmacist,” rustling guitar and harmonica propel a tale of “this dude having a crush on his pharmacist.” It also serves as an extension of his friendship with neighbor Scot Sax—with whom he shares the podcast “One Hit Neighbors” (since they’ve both had one hit song). Meanwhile, he joined forces with Molly Tuttle on “4th of July,” which, of course, came to life on the 3rd of July. “Ballin On Wednesday” drew its title and chorus from a diner checkout girl (with a super cool gold tooth) who Steve paid with a $100 bill and she replied, “Oooh, ballin’ on a Wednesday.” The finale “All Things Shine” skips along on sparse instrumentation as Steve sends a message.

“‘All Things Shine’ came about after one of the many mass shootings on this planet,” he sighs. “I was feeling overwhelmed. So, I wanted to put my feelings into words and melody. I was thinking that even if we’re feeling hopeless that there is still beauty. All things shine in their own way.”

Who could contend that?

In the end, for everything you can call him “searcher, smartass, movie freak, lover of technology, news junkie, baseball fan to nth degree, lapsed catholic who still believes in god even though all his friends are atheists and think he’s an idiot, and maker of fun,” you might just call Steve that little light in the dark we all need in this day and age. 

Or Nashville’s Canadian Jiminy Cricket…

“I hope Shine On makes listeners smile and feel welcome, and they want to share it with their friends,” he leaves off. “Music means energy to me. All things. It connects us, makes us move, helps us relax, and inspires us to change things up.”

An Evening with Steve Poltz – POSTPONED

POSTPONED – CREDIT OR REFUNDS WILL BE ISSUED

Throughout over three decades in music, Steve Poltz did it all and more—often shared by way of his rockin’ countrified folk slices of sardonic Americana (hatched in Halifax). Of course, he co-wrote Jewel’s multiplatinum Hot 100-topping megahit “You Were Meant For Me,” but he also went on a whale watch with her and a few federales that turned into a drug bust. The two still share the story at every festival they play together. He made his bones as the frontman for underground legends The Rugburns, who burned rubber crisscrossing the continent on marathon tours and still pop up once in a while for the rare and quickly sold out reunion gig.

In 20 years since his full-length solo debut, One Left Shoe, he blessed the world’s ears with twelve solo records, spanning the acclaimed 2010 Dreamhouse and most recently Folk Singer in 2015. NPR summed it up best, “Critics and fans alike now regard Poltz as a talented and prolific songwriter.” By 2016, he survived a stroke, endured anything the music industry could throw at him, and still performed like “280 days a year.” 

However, he still never lived in Nashville, which represents a turning point in the story and the genesis of his 2018 Red House Records debut, Shine On…

“My girlfriend Sharon sold the condo we were living in, and I was ready to live in a van, which seemed like a good idea for one night—then I decided I wanted a kitchen and a closet,” he admits. “Sharon wanted to move to Nashville, because she thought it would be good for me. It caused a huge fight. I’d been in San Diego since 1980, and that’s where I cut my musical teeth. I thought I’d never leave.  In fact, at the height of our fight, I said, ‘I’m not leaving San Diego. I am San Diego!’ This makes me laugh now. As soon as I got to Nashville, I immediately knew I wanted to make a record in ‘Music City’.”

So, the man who once protested “I am San Diego” made Shine On in his new home of Nashville with one of its elder statesmen behind the board, Will Kimbrough [Emmylou Harris, Rodney Crowell]. Holing up in the studio at Kimbrough’s house, nothing would be off limits. Together, they unlocked the kind of creative chemistry you only hear about in band bios—but for real.

“I respect Will so much, and I’d always wanted to work with him,” says Steve. “Like two mad scientists, we just took our time and had fun. We didn’t overthink things. Everything felt organic. We ate soul food and drank lots of really good coffee. We tried out weird sounds, and the songs always started with voice and guitar—no click track, just how I’d play them. I road tested many of them, and they were ripe for the picking when recording time came around.”

Evoking themes of “hope, love, contemplation, celebration of Wednesday, pharmacists, and the fact that windows are not inanimate objects and they sometimes have conversations with each other,” the record represents Steve at his most inspired and insightful. The opener and title track “Shine On” pairs a delicate vocal with lithely plucked acoustic strings as he urges, “Shine on, shine on.”

“The song was a gift,” he recalls. “I woke up really early in Encinitas, California at Sharon’s sister’s house. The sun was just coming up. I was all alone in perfect solitude. My guitar was there. The sky was gorgeous. I wrote it as a poem. Everyone always told me, ‘Never start a record with a really slow song.’  So, seeing that I have O.D.D. (Oppositional Defiance Disorder), I  started my record with one. I love the mood it sets. It’s almost like my mission statement, trying to find some semblance of positivity and light in a sometimes ruthless world.”

On “Pharmacist,” rustling guitar and harmonica propel a tale of “this dude having a crush on his pharmacist.” It also serves as an extension of his friendship with neighbor Scot Sax—with whom he shares the podcast “One Hit Neighbors” (since they’ve both had one hit song). Meanwhile, he joined forces with Molly Tuttle on “4th of July,” which, of course, came to life on the 3rd of July. “Ballin On Wednesday” drew its title and chorus from a diner checkout girl (with a super cool gold tooth) who Steve paid with a $100 bill and she replied, “Oooh, ballin’ on a Wednesday.” The finale “All Things Shine” skips along on sparse instrumentation as Steve sends a message.

“‘All Things Shine’ came about after one of the many mass shootings on this planet,” he sighs. “I was feeling overwhelmed. So, I wanted to put my feelings into words and melody. I was thinking that even if we’re feeling hopeless that there is still beauty. All things shine in their own way.”

Who could contend that?

In the end, for everything you can call him “searcher, smartass, movie freak, lover of technology, news junkie, baseball fan to nth degree, lapsed catholic who still believes in god even though all his friends are atheists and think he’s an idiot, and maker of fun,” you might just call Steve that little light in the dark we all need in this day and age. 

Or Nashville’s Canadian Jiminy Cricket…

“I hope Shine On makes listeners smile and feel welcome, and they want to share it with their friends,” he leaves off. “Music means energy to me. All things. It connects us, makes us move, helps us relax, and inspires us to change things up.”