<p><em><strong>Kathleen Laccinole interviews Wende Crowley, Senior Vice President of Film and TV at Sony/ATV Music, about being a <a href="https://esme.com/voices/perspectives/whats-a-solo-mom" target="_blank" class="wordlink">Solo Mom</a> in the music business</strong></em></p><p>Music-publishing powerhouse, Wende Crowley works at Sony/ATV Music—the company that controls copyrights for more than two million of our favorite songs by artists such as The Beatles, Michael Jackson, Kanye West, Taylor Swift, and Lady Gaga, to name a few. She is a Solo Mom with the dream job of music supervisor—the person who places pop music in film, television, and video games. Her credits include <em>Annie</em>, <em>Easy A</em>, <em>Freaks and Geeks</em>, and <em>Arrested Developmen</em><em>t</em>, among others. </p><p><strong>Q: How did you get into the music business?</strong></p><p>A: I drove cross-country from Boston to Los Angeles two days after graduating college to do an internship at Sony Records. After my internship ended, I got a job working in promotions and marketing for Nederlander Concerts and the Greek Theatre—but my dream was to become a music supervisor. There was an ad in the <em>Hollywood Reporter</em> as an assistant to a music supervisor. I applied and actually got the job!</p><p><strong>Q: When and how did you become a Solo Mom?</strong></p><p>A: I became a single mom in 2010. My ex and I decided it was time to end the marriage, but, luckily, we have remained great friends and coparents.</p><p><strong>Q: Did being a Solo Mom impact your career in the music business?</strong></p><p>A: Time management became a challenge. I became aware of how precious my time is with my son. It’s a constant balancing act between work and family life.</p><p><strong>Q: How do you manage?</strong></p><p>A: I evaluate and separate the work events I have to attend and plan accordingly. If there is something I can’t miss because we’re dealing with a big client or signing, my ex will usually help cover for me—and I do the same for him. We accommodate each other’s schedules, and we are very flexible when one of us needs coverage. I realize how rare this can be in <a href="https://esme.com/resources/c/divorce" target="_blank" class="wordlink">divorce</a>, and I am grateful for it. </p><p><strong>Q: When your status shifted from being married to being a Solo Mom, did you feel a shift in your community?</strong></p><p>A: No. If anything, I felt a lot of love and support from everyone. Luckily, no friends were lost in this divorce(!), although I definitely find myself seeking out other single moms or just mom friends in general. I’m always trying to pull my friends together to do things with the kids—trying to expand the circle. More people to love in your life is always a good thing.</p><p><strong>Q: Are there specific resources that help you?</strong></p><p>A: Having friends with kids helps. Build your network of moms, and help each other. You’ll make close friendships and so will your kids. Working in the music business means nights out from time to time. There is no way around it, so get your support system in place. There are a lot of moms in the music business. Find them! </p><p><strong>Q: Has being a Solo Mom posed any sort of detriment to furthering your career?</strong></p><p>A: In between the time I’ve become a single mom and now, I’ve been promoted twice, so I can say with certainly that it hasn’t held me back from furthering my career, and because I have a great relationship with my ex, he’s willing to help out if it’s “my night” and I have an important work event I need to attend. I do the same for him. We both love the extra time we get with our son, so if covering each other means we get extra time, we always take it.</p><p><strong>Q: Was there a defining moment when you realized you were a Solo Mom?</strong></p><p>A: My son was with his dad, and it was one of my first nights after my ex moved out. I pulled up to my house, and it was empty and dark. I sat in the driveway feeling so alone. I’ve never felt lonely as a parent, but in that moment, I felt alone as a person realizing that I was thirtysomething and single again. The feeling stunned me with deep sadness. I remember not wanting to go into the house. I think right after that I decided to throw a big party to fill up the house with people and happiness. I’ve come a long way from that night, and I can say it does get better.</p><p><strong>Q: What are you most proud of as a Solo Mom?</strong></p><p>A: I’m proud of how my relationship with my son only grew stronger out of this experience. Since I only have him half of the time, when I’m with him, I’m fully with him. We have more quality time, and hanging out with him is my favorite thing.</p><p><strong>Q: What is one of your favorite single-<a href="https://esme.com/resources/c/parenting" target="_blank" class="wordlink">parenting</a> tips?</strong></p><p>A: Sleepovers! And put your damn phone away, and be present!</p><hr><p><span style="font-size: 12px;">Photo Credit: Wende Crowley</span><br></p>
<p><em><strong>Singer Neshama Carlebach discusses how <a href="https://esme.com/resources/c/divorce" target="_blank" class="wordlink">divorce</a> and a focus on her children redefined her music</strong></em></p><p><em></em>There are pivotal moments in a person’s life that shape their soul. Neshama Carlebach molded hers from the ashes of divorce and the death of her father, Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach. As a young adult, she sang with him, but within a few short years, she was suddenly carrying his legacy.<em></em> </p><p><strong>Carlebach on her father</strong></p><p>“He was my best friend; his path is my path.” Thirty-one days after his death, she sang her first concert. Referring to her formal lack of training at the time, she recalls, “If you asked me what a key was, I didn’t know how to find it. I didn’t know what I was doing!” Fast-forward nine albums, 20 years of singing, and more than a million records sold, Carlebach is no novice.</p><p>She toured the globe supporting her father’s dreams and message of light, love, and joy to the entire world. Her two children went everywhere with her, with little divide between work and home life. Then divorce changed everything. “I was dying in my marriage. I was never honest (with myself), and now I have become really real. You have to cry a lot, and you have to break in half a lot before you can get to that place.” Carlebach went through what she describes as “a stripping away of everything major.” She found herself without song. She had no voice, and for the first time in her adult life, she was mourning her father and her own self. </p><p><strong>Refocusing on her children</strong></p><p>The focus became her children, and she poured all her attention on to them and their happiness. One day she found herself in her car listening to a recording of her own music. Carlebach said it was the first time she sat and really listened to her own voice other than in concert or in the recording studio. During this hour, a profound change began within her. “We have to hear our own voice, and we have to fall apart to get up again. Getting divorced is really serious. The redefining of the individual is the life’s work, especially of the artist.”</p><p><strong>Surviving the fall</strong></p><p>“I feel like I survived a very big fall.” With newfound purpose, Carlebach began to rebuild one block at a time, redefining her idea of self. “Don’t be afraid to be who you are. I believe that healing is possible. Healing inside. I sing because people need to feel, they need to hear, and they need to wake up. I was one of those sleepers.” Carlebach began to sing again. A new album, <em>Soul Daughter</em>, was born based on <em>Soul Doctor</em>, the 2014 Broadway play about her father. “Everything is new; everything is shining.” </p><p><strong>Finding a new partner</strong></p><p>Her boyfriend and creative partner, Josh Nelson, produced the current album. He has been a huge part of the rebuilding process. “The best gift I can give my children is that I’m actually present, that I can be the best version of myself.” When asked how she manages her touring life as a single mother, she confesses, “I’m really broken when I leave them, and then the joy(!) when I feel the music.” </p><p><strong>Fond memories of her father</strong></p><p>Carlebach shares a fond memory of her father. “He came from the Holocaust, my father. There is a picture with 10 of his little friends, and he told me they were all killed. He used to talk all the time about crying with half of your heart and laughing with the other. It’s only when you can master the art of crying and laughing at the same time that you can stand strong.” Her father used to joke, “When you are in the tornado of <a href="https://esme.com/resources/c/bereavement" target="_blank" class="wordlink">grief</a>, it’s temporary, like high school.” Carlebach laughs and explains that she is desperate—not for love or power, but for a better world. The mission of her music, her soul, and the essence of her rebirth. “I feel you, I’m crying with you, keep breathing, don’t lose hope and love, don’t lose faith, and keep a very close eye on the mission of your own soul.” Despite a difficult divorce and the even greater loss of her father, Carlebach reclaimed her soul and now seeks to spread a message of hope every time she sings. </p><p><a href="http://www.neshamacarlebach.com/" target="_blank">Find out more at www.neshamacarlebach.com.</a></p><p><br></p><hr><p><span style="font-size: 12px;">Photo Credit: Neshama Carlebach</span><br></p>
<p><strong><em>E.G. Daily, voice of Rugrats’ Tommy Pickles and participant on The Voice, shares her optimistic approach to work and solo <a href="https://esme.com/resources/c/parenting" target="_blank" class="wordlink">parenting</a></em></strong></p><p><em>E.G. Daily has starred in movies, topped the charts as a singer/songwriter, is the voice of Tommy Pickles from </em>Rugrats<em>, and has voiced other notable characters. In 2013, Daily sauntered onto the stage of </em>The Voice<em> and blew everyone away with her rendition of “Breathe,” joining Team Blake after the performance. Yet Daily’s greatest success is solo-mothering daughters Hunter (19) and Tyson (16). Seriously, how many kids can say their mom is a Powerpuff Girl? </em></p><p><strong>Which career came first—singing or acting?</strong></p><p>It’s really one career with all sorts of tentacles. It all goes back to my voice. </p><p>When I was young I’d make up pretend voices. And I loved to sing. I taught myself how to play the guitar so I could sing and write songs. I starred in the school musicals. Then right after high school, I started booking movies.</p><p>But no matter what I was doing, I was singing and developing my voice. My voice had been so developed as a singer, and my acting so developed as an actor, that the voice-over made sense. It contorted everything together into animation, radio, TV, and commercials.</p><p><strong>How did you land in the voice-over business?</strong></p><p>I was doing a musical about female wrestlers. The play involved my character’s voice at different ages. Jeff Danis saw me at a performance and told me I should pursue voice-over. He’s still my agent to this day.</p><p>But I did not do the play for any reason other than I wanted to be <em>singing</em>. My motives were clean. And I ended up getting all these accolades, getting a record deal, breaking into voice-over. All these great things happened because I did something solely because I loved it. I talk about this in my seminars.</p><p><strong>When and how did you become a <a href="https://esme.com/voices/perspectives/whats-a-solo-mom" target="_blank" class="wordlink">Solo Mom</a>?</strong></p><p>I always had a feeling I would be a single mom. There was too much pressure to meet guys. At 32 I decided to do it myself. I made the plan with my doctor. The pressure was off. Then I went to a barbecue, met this guy, and five weeks later got married in Vegas. I got knocked up on my wedding night. Completely unplanned! </p><p>I loved him. We had two kids. But he had a problem with drugs—so I ultimately left him. I knew it wasn’t healthy for the kids and me. Years later he got sober, and over time we learned to care about each other. Now he’s my best friend. It was painful at first, but I feel blessed that I got way more from the universe than I’d asked.</p><p><strong>How did you manage being in a creative field while solo parenting?</strong></p><p>I could do voice-over and bring the babies with me. I literally nursed while I was working. If I was working remotely, I could have a baby on the boob and they never knew. I did not sacrifice anything to take care of my kids.</p><p><strong>Was there a defining moment that drove home you were raising kids alone?</strong></p><p>My youngest had baby asthma. I’d have to grab both babies, throw them in the car, and rush to the hospital. I cried all the time because I never slept. I’d have one baby on the boob and the other on a nebulizer, and I would move my arms around like an octopus, grabbing this and that. That’s when I decided to ask for help. My family was amazing. If I had $80, I’d hire someone. Peace at any cost. </p><p><strong>Can you recommend resources for women trying to break into voice-over or music?</strong></p><p>My voice-over seminar is great and teaches a spiritual approach. As for singing, if you love it, sing! Take lessons. Do open mics. Bigger things will start happening.</p><p><strong>What are you most proud of as a Solo Mom?</strong></p><p>I’m proud of the work I’ve done on myself so I could be the parent I wanted for my girls. I didn’t follow the pattern and I think my kids are amazing because of it. I taught them to believe that if life alters things, it’s for the better. It’s not happening to you, it’s happening <em>for</em> you. There are no rules—it’s only what is beautiful and fantastic. Having a miserable married couple as parents is not fantastic, as opposed to pure mama love. I want my kids to not just tolerate—but to lean into all joy. </p><p><strong>What’s your favorite single-parenting tip?</strong></p><p>Write little notes with beautiful affirmations. Color them up and sparkle them out and put them in their lunch box and backpacks. “You’re beautiful.” “You are magical.” “You are everything I could have ever dreamed I’d want for a kid.”</p><hr><p><span style="font-size: 11px;">Image via s_bukley / Shutterstock.com</span><span style="font-size: 11px;"></span></p>
<p><strong>ESME’s Domenica Ruta shares the playlist inspired by her memoir, </strong><strong><em>With or Without You</em><strong>, about her life being raised by a <a href="https://esme.com/voices/perspectives/whats-a-solo-mom" target="_blank" class="wordlink">Solo Mom</a></strong></strong></p><p><em>In the website </em><a href="http://www.largeheartedboy.com/blog/archive/book_notes_2012/" target="_blank"><em>largehearted boy’s Book Notes series</em></a><em>, authors create and discuss a music playlist that relates in some way to their recently published book. Here is Domenica Ruta’s </em><a href="http://www.largeheartedboy.com/blog/archive/2014/03/book_notes_dome.html" target="_blank"><em>Book Notes music playlist</em></a><em> for her memoir, </em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0812983408/ref=nosim/largeheartedb-20" target="_blank">With or Without You</a><em>. Booklist wrote of the book, <strong></strong>“<strong></strong>The intensity of the clear-eyed manner in which Ruta conveys her abiding frustration with the parents who failed their child so casually and monumentally is exceedingly powerful stuff.”<strong></strong> You can stream a playlist of these songs at </em><a href="https://open.spotify.com/user/largeheartedboy/playlist/3fCSLZEemrMsloWFWnh7WK" target="_blank"><em>Spotify</em></a><em>.</em></p><p><strong>Roxy Music—“Take a Chance with Me”</strong></p><p>I was such a drunk I had to move back home at the not-so-cute age of 29. Everything was fucked, my mistakes permanent, my flaws fatal, and every augur in the celestial world, whether real or imagined, was a prognostication of even more doom. And yet I regretted nothing. This song came on my iTunes random shuffle. The intro is long, drawn-out, overdramatic, and dark—my impulse is to fast forward through it, but this time I don’t, or can’t. Then everything changes. It’s a like a new song starts when Bryan Ferry starts singing. His refrain catches me in the middle of my self-pitying reverie, grabs me by the shoulders, and gives me a good melodic shake. “All of the world—even you . . . “ His voice is earnest, forgiving, so tender. I am transported back to my mother’s stereo, the centerpiece of our kitchen, which was the heart of our house. And suddenly I’m inside this place I have been so afraid to write about, and I can start working again.</p><p><strong>The Pretenders—the entire first eponymous album </strong></p><p>Chrissie Hynde was a goddess in our house. My mother and I worshipped her. The first title of my memoir was “The Pretenders” in homage. She was skinny and homely, but she owned her sexuality and wielded its power without apologies. Her lyricism can be aggressive or vulnerable or impatient or longing, but above all it is brutally honest, and there lies its genius. There are few albums as perfect as this one. The opening chords of “Precious” work like a heart defibrillator on a cold drowsy day. “Tattooed Love Boys” has snapped me out of some lust-fueled delusions more than once. I still can’t listen to “Kid” without crying.</p><p><strong>Led Zeppelin—“Thank You”</strong></p><p>Anger is so hungry it eats up all the good and the complicated pieces that make up the actual truth of an experience. But it’s a lot better than helplessness, or that’s what I concluded growing up. And so even though my stepfather was such a kind and funny and disappointing man, it was easier to rage at him and blame him—for my mother’s switch from pills to intravenous heroin, for her mood swings, for our embarrassing squalid crack shack of a house, for everything that was wrong in our life. I couldn’t admit that I liked the same music as my stepfather. It would be like admitting that I loved him, which I did, and I hated him for that. I couldn’t admit, not for a long, long time, how much he influenced the adult I am today.</p><p><strong>XTC—“Senses Working Overtime”</strong></p><p>This needs to be said: I am not cool. I grew up in the culturally bankrupt suburbs in the age before the Internet. My parents loved classic rock, and so did I, because I was lazy and aspired to be agreeable and compromising more than rebellious, independent, or cool. So anything I know about music I learned passively while sitting shotgun in my mother’s car, where everything but the radio was broken. Before all those corporations came in and took over, there was a local Boston station called WFNX that played British New Wave. I knew I loved it without knowing it was a genre or who any of the major players were or who their bastardized punk parents were or what they were doing with ironic optimism and synthesizers. I just know that my mother would blast this song, and I would jump up and down at the “One-Two-Three-Four-Five” part, because I was so young that counting to five was still a big accomplishment.</p><p><strong>The Rolling Stones—“Factory Girl”</strong></p><p>I was shocked when my dad offered to drive me home from Oberlin after exams my freshman year. Didn’t he understand that we would be alone together in a car for like 12 hours? As far as I could remember, we hadn’t spent 12 minutes together so intimately. So I got really stoned and burned a bunch of mix CDs. We hadn’t reached the Ohio border before my father had the revelation that we liked the same music. He seemed bemused, like his expectations of me had been so much lower, and I had pleasantly surprised him. He had no idea who I was, and if I was being honest, I didn’t know him, either. We didn’t have any deep conversations on that drive. Thank God for the music, and for the Stones in particular. We hardly talked at all. It would be a long time still before we knew what to say to each other, let alone have the courage to say it.</p><p><strong>The entire discography of David Bowie</strong></p><p>I grew up among lapsed Catholics. In place of prayers, we had rock songs. I don’t remember learning the words, only that I know them by heart. “Starman,” “Panic in Detroit,” “Ashes to Ashes.” It’s emotional mainlining, taking me to that sacred place beyond nostalgia and nightmares. I am sometimes cajoled by well-meaning friends in the sober community to write a daily gratitude list. Mine usually goes like this: (1) life, (2) health, (3) safety, (4) running water, (5) family and friends, (6) my dog, (7) David Bowie.</p><p><strong>The Talking Heads—“Dream Operator”</strong></p><p>If you didn’t have a happy childhood, invent yourself a new one. It’s just a dream, but so what; so is everything else. In my reinvented childhood, my parents are healthy and sane and happy, and they shut the TV off and do art projects with me, and when it’s time for bed, they sing lullabies, and this is the one that sends me perfectly, peacefully to sleep.</p><p>This article is reposted with permission from largehearted boy.</p><hr><p><span style="font-size: 12px;">Photo Credit: <em>With or Without You</em></span><span style="font-size: 12px;">, Spiegel & Grau</span><br></p><p><span style="font-size: 11px;"></span></p>