venue, was a personal coup. The morning after, they sopped up
a celebratory hangover with eggs, bacon and avocado. “It’s pretty
special to see so many folks at once who are invested in us and
rooting for us,” they note. Once fortified, they pack up the Toyota
Sienna, not the ultimate cool-dudes-in-a-band mobile, but gets them
where they need to be. Next stop, Brooklyn.
Tall Heights is on the move. Once a mainstay at Faneuil Hall,
they are now playing 165 gigs a year between Boston and Seattle.
This summer, they played the Sterling Stage Folk Fest along with
their mentor Ryan Montbleau, and will participate in Cincinnati’s
BuckleUp Festival in July. In addition to touring, they are making
the rounds online with sessions for sites like Daytrotter and Audio
Tree, and Bandcamp. They have social media pages and have had to hire a publicist and radio
promoter as their fan base incrementally multiplies.
The duo creates together and apart. Mornings are typically reserved for solo exploration,
with afternoons devoted to eking out business details, brainstorming and collaboration, and
working out. Sometimes the evening hours elicit another wave of musical genius. Wright says,
“Most ideas pop in to my head as I am trying to go to sleep, so I hop up and record something
quick.” Harrington writes things down at all times of the day, compelled to stay alert, indebted
to momentary inspiration. “I take it from wherever it comes and trust that it will happen again
and again,” he says with the confidence that comes from building a consistent body of work.
Love and relationships – lack, loss or abundance – always have an impact on creativity. When
Wright first started writing lyrics, he felt the need to share his personal drama, first good, then
not so much, with the world. The seasoned songwriter now says, “Love still plays a role but the
need to share my emotional ups and downs has diminished.” Aging, hard-up towns, poverty
... these are some of the themes explored in their newer songs, which balance sadness, loss with
hope and ordinary days. “Field of Snow” addresses the effects of unemployment.
It’s a slow-motion disaster / but it’s nothing you can
hear. It robbed you of your sight-line / and it only
brought you tears. Said a man my father’s age / he
was lucky to be there at the end of working days /
so our troubles weren’t his cares
Photo credit: Michael Spencer Photography