Tim Easton was given a record deal, a publishing deal with Madonna’s label, and studio time with members of Wilco. He bought a Gibson, gave the rest to bartenders on the Lower East Side, and proceeded — by his own cheerful admission — to drop the ball. That was 25 years ago. He’s about to turn 60. He’s still writing every day. He just released his best-sounding record.
This conversation covers the full arc. Before the deal, Tim busked on the streets of Europe for years — nameless and joy-making in the most literal sense. After the deal, there were tours with Lucinda Williams and John Hiatt, a night opening for Townes Van Zandt that ended with a promoter asking “is this the way you want to live your life?”, and the hand-painted vinyl covers he brought to his label that more or less got him fired. Tim tells these stories without self-pity or regret. He dropped the ball. He picked up another one. That’s what lifers do.
We also talked about his sister Susan, the painter who inspired the album cover and the album itself, making fIREHORSE with Laney Wilson’s band, why he still thinks in albums, the romance and ruin of the Kerouac fantasy, managing envy, the sober dad club, and why a folk spot in Nebraska still sounds like heaven to both of us.
Then he played “River” from fIREHORSE and… abruptly left to pick up his kid from school.
🎥 Watch the full conversation on YouTube
🎸 Watch Tim perform “River” from Fire Horse
AFTER THE CONVERSATION
After the Conversation is my Substack essay series where I keep thinking after the microphones are off. This week: a Salinger quote I’ve carried for twenty years, the incompatibility of art and commerce, and the difference between a wolf and a dog. Also: what a street performer actually is, and why I’d be doing this anyway.
