David Ramirez

If there's a proper way to summarize where David Ramirez is at, musically speaking, perhaps that's it—at least on his newest album, All the Not So Gentle Reminders. Vulnerability is nothing new on a Ramirez release, but the dozen songs presented here are a bit less visceral, a bit more considered.

The emotional resonance stands as strong as ever, and that's long been Ramirez's calling card, but in our latest conversation with the singer-songwriter, we sat down to talk about the reversed processes at work on All the Not So Gentle Reminders. From leading with the melody to sitting with the pain, it's a new creative turn for Ramirez is multiple ways.

Analogue: David, I wanted to ask about some of the quotes surrounding your album. They suggest that you've been stuck at the intersection of creativity and commerce. You didn’t phrase it exactly that way, but if I could paraphrase, it seems like this album wasn’t constrained by those pressures. Could you explain that more? How does one even begin to shake free of that?

David: Well, I mean, it’s not really possible to completely shake free from it—especially now that the record is about to be released. There are a lot of interviews, and I hired a press team to help get the word out so the album reaches as many people as possible.

I just didn’t do a lot of pre-production meetings with management beforehand. Sorry, by the way—I’m still recovering from a three-week bout with COVID.

Analogue: Oh, gosh.

David: Yeah, so my voice is going to cut out from time to time. I’m no longer sick, but it really wrecked my body and my vocal cords, so I’m still in recovery mode.

Anyway, in the past, I would sit down with managers before recording and show them the songs I wanted to include. They would give input like, “That one’s a little too slow,” or “It doesn’t get to the chorus quickly enough.” Or they’d suggest cutting a song down so it could be radio-friendly. But I didn’t do any of that for this record.

Instead, I went out to a friend’s cabin in Alabama and recorded the entire thing on my own for the first time since 2009 or 2011—without anyone else's input regarding how it would fit into the business, be received by radio, or marketed through PR. In that way, it was the freest I’ve felt making a record in a very long time. But if someone is voluntarily in show business, they can never completely escape the constraints that come with it.

Analogue: Sure, sure.

David: I just meant that, for the writing and storyboarding process, I was able to do it all by myself. And that was really nice.

Analogue: Was that a conscious decision—like, “Next time I do this, I’m not involving management”? And afterward, did it yield what you hoped it would?

David: It wasn’t really intentional. I just went with it. I knew I needed to write because it had been a long time since I’d put pen to paper. It had been since July 2020, and personally, I was overdue for a release.

So, I made a phone call, found out the cabin was available, and spent about a month there writing. Then I came back, told my manager I was ready to put out a record and head to the studio. Most of it was just winging it. I found a studio near my house, and they happened to have a few weeks open right after I finished writing. I didn’t know how I was going to pay for it or the musicians, but I was ready. So, I rolled the dice and made it happen. Thankfully, everyone was taken care of.

Analogue: The album’s bio mentions the end of a relationship and how you wanted to process that without writing songs at the time. In the past, has songwriting been your instinctual way of processing emotions?

David: Yes, in the past—and even still today. I love processing that way. But I didn’t want to write a heartbreak record. That was the main thing.

I had just released My Love is a Hurricane, which was all about love—how sweet, hard-working, and beautiful relationships can be. I didn’t want to follow that up with, “Oh, that was all bullshit.” Because I still fully believe in love and relationships. So, I felt like I needed to process as a human rather than as a songwriter.

When I did start writing again, I had already worked through a lot of those emotions, so I could focus on other things.

Analogue: Was it difficult to avoid picking up your guitar during that time?

David: No, because it wasn’t about avoiding the guitar or music. It was about not writing lyrics. I was still composing a lot of music.

During the shutdown, I started collecting gear—MIDI keyboards, microphones, a small mixing board—and tried my hand at engineering for the first time. It wasn’t super advanced, just GarageBand, but I was writing tons of music. I just wasn’t writing any words. That allowed me to heal musically. A lot of that instrumental music ended up on this record. For example, “Dirty Martini” started as a full instrumental demo on GarageBand and made it onto the album.

Analogue: That must have been a different creative experience—letting the music lead the way instead of the lyrics.

David: Absolutely. It was really fun to let the music shape the story instead of the other way around. In the past, I’d start with the emotion or the story I wanted to tell, and that would dictate the song’s feel. This time, it was the complete opposite. And I loved it. It makes me want to work that way more often.

Analogue: I’m guessing that felt less like bleeding onto the page and more… I don’t know, distant? More reflective?

David: That’s a great way to put it. Yes, it wasn’t bleeding—it was more like looking back with hindsight. That’s why I felt comfortable writing songs like “A Bigger World” with Natalie Price. It’s a breakup song, but it’s not filled with anger or resentment. It’s more like, “Oh shit, I might run into you in town, and that could be awkward.”

A lot of this record was about looking back. “The Music Man” is about my father giving me a Walkman when I was ten. “Waiting on the Dust to Settle” reflects on advice my mother gave me after the breakup—how she was the only person telling me to take my time, sit with the pain, and not rush through it. “Nobody Meant to Slow You Down” is more of an apology than an accusatory song. So, this album wasn’t about venting emotions in the moment—it was about reflection.

Analogue: When you listen to the album, are there musical moments you’re particularly proud of?

David: I’ve never been more proud of a record. I loved exploring chord changes, long outros, and giving songs more space. In the past, I’d already written a clear verse, chorus, and bridge, and the music had to fit that structure. This time, I let the music breathe.

Analogue: What does support for the album look like? Have you planned tour dates?

David: I’ll be touring in April through the Southeast and parts of the Midwest. I lost my agent recently, so my manager and I have been scrambling to find a new one while booking shows ourselves. It feels like going back to my early days without the support I’ve had over the last decade.

I’m doing a release show at a small club here in town. The owner is a big supporter and offered the space. I’ll also be touring Europe in May with my friend Noah Gundersen. Normally, there would be a three- or four-month tour post-release, but this time, I’m hoping the album spreads organically. I’d love to open for bigger bands again and introduce myself to new audiences.

VISIT: David Ramirez