Tom Ceraulo

Folk / Rock

To Whom It May Concern: I’ve got a story for you, and it’s a pretty good one - particularly if you’re a believer in the redemptive power of music. I was unemployed for over a year after September 11, living in downtown Manhattan, spending most of my time in my dark apartment with the lights off. Tthere were periods where I didn't speak to anyone for days. As any music obsessive does, I took refuge in records. In addition to the classics (Joni Mitchell’s "Blue", Neil Young’s "Tonight’s The Night", Van Morrison’s "Astral Weeks", Springsteen’s "Nebraska", and Townes Van Zandt’s "Live at the Old Quarter", to name some elite titles) that I’d always returned to, a few more recent albums had me firmly under their spell: Ryan Adams’ "Heartbreaker" and "Gold"; Gillian Welch’s "Time (The Revelator)"; Jesse Malin’s "The Fine Art of Self-Destruction". In a very real way, these timeless, personal records saved my life. They were perfectly sad and beautiful and great to drink to, of course - but even more importantly, they stirred something in me that had been dormant for far too long: the calling to write songs and sing them. I’d written countless tunes during my New Jersey youth, played them live at every opportunity, attended songwriters’ workshops...but after high school, I got lost in the shuffle of NYU film school and the world of television, and found less and less time to seriously focus on music. With nothing but time - and the rejeuvenating power of those records that stirred me - on my hands during my long stint without work, I started picking up my guitar again on a regular basis and resumed my life as a dedicated songwriter. Once I had a batch of songs I was happy with, I took them out and started playing them. My momentum grew from there. Both onstage and in the tiny bedroom where I wrote, I began inching further and further out on the proverbial tightrope, laying it all out on the line in the spirit of the singer-songwriters I felt akin to. One night in March 2004, a couple of those songwriters - Ryan Adams and Jesse Malin, no less - found themselves at one of my shows, enjoyed what they heard, and recognized my influences; Ryan’s first comment to me was that he heard Gillian Welch and "Nebraska" in my music. It had all come full circle; the voices on the very records that had revived me as a songwriter were giving me their stamp of approval and offering their encouragement. It kept me writing and playing, revived my faith in myself, and got me through a roller coaster of a decade. While I'm not actively playing at the moment, the songs remain, and more are bound to be written. Perhaps one day I'll get myself out there again, but for now, check out some recorded tunes, OK? Tom Ceraulo