Nobody does Todd Newman like Todd Newman does. You never know what you’re going to get in the day to day: a heart-on-the-sleeve love song; tunes about singers that have (sadly) disappeared into oblivion; all varieties of songs, all over the color spectrum, there's no predicting where he might go.

Todd does his thing with songwriting and he does his thing at the sessions. The musicians are all assembled for the occasion: the recording of a new single. Arrangements are done—Todd had a glance at them and nodded. That’s the only obvious approval you’ll get unless you really knock one out of the park: a superlative trombone solo, a drum fill that blows his mind, something really special, something extraordinary. Mr. Newman walks in, greets a few of the musician by name: “Hey, Stan, how’s life?”…“Good to see you’re still among the living, Dave”…things like that. Excitement is high, the sound engineers are ready. He steps up to the mic. It’s time to get to work.

It’s good to have a microphone. When he was starting out, back in the bad/good old days, it wasn’t unusual to show up to a club booking, knock on the side door, standing in the freezing cold, shuffling around just to stay warm, and finally the door open, just a little, just a crack, and some disembodied voice asks if the band brought microphones and stands ‘cause they don’t have any. You had to be prepared for failure and chaos back in those days. You’ve got to pay your dues, that’s always been the way. You have to earn a microphone. Nobody’s going to just hand it to you on your first day at the job.

The sound engineers say, “Rolling tape,” and they’re off. The first take is not bad, nothing you’d hear on the radio and not snap your fingers to and dig. But the singer calls for another take: “Uh, that was by no means awful, but maybe we can make it soar. Let’s do another one.” He speaks to the drummer, a guy named Bill. Todd and Bill go way back, all the way back to the days of loading gear into station wagons and taking any gig they could get, days of eating cheap potato chips for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. If you were lucky enough to afford potato chips. “Bill, how about we have a little snap and sizzle on that high-hat in the middle-eight.” Bill grins and you know you’re going to hear snap and sizzle on the next take. The engineer says, “Recording,” and things happen. This time the song soars. After the last fade of the cymbals, Todd glances back at the engineers. They look giddy and all give a thumbs ups. Todd looks out at the musicians, says, “Ladies and Gentlemen, that’s a take,” puts his coat on, and then he’s off. He walks through the side door and out into the night...
(Liner notes by Nick Mink)

"When She Sang It Would Make You Cry" written by Todd Newman (Rory Borealus Music ASCAP), "Alan O" written by Todd Newman/Chris Garner/Tim O'Reagan (Rory Borealus Music ASCAP), "Hey There Stranger" written by Joe Meek (Ivy Music).