RIDING THE MUSIC WAVE: JOE HOLT

A few years back I had a weekly radio show called North Star Nugs, on which I played jam bands, jazz, and improvisational music. In preparing this playlist for River Styx, I went back and looked at my spreadsheet from the show. It had lots of typical jam band songs (sample titles: “Schwagtown USA,” “It’s 4:20 Somewhere”), but for this playlist I chose some folksier tracks. Although they aren’t jammy or jazzy, I played them on my radio show anyway. I had no evidence that anyone was listening, and hey, I was making the rules.

Boy do I love music, but I can’t listen when I’m writing creatively. The goal is flow state—good luck!—and I am too easily distracted. These days when I write, I’m in a cabin in Interior Alaska, burning incense, sipping coffee, looking out occasionally at the snowy field and spruce trees. Am I bothered by the shrieks of ravens or the howling of far-off sled dogs? No, because I wear foam ear plugs when I write. It’s how I try to block the other sounds and achieve my own musicality.