Q&A with Dylan Hicks

The Cedar sat down with Minneapolis-based musician and writer Dylan Hicks. He and the band Small Screens just released Airport Sparrows earlier this year. Learn more about the new album, Dylan’s relationship to failure and success, and his artist journey.  

Catch Dylan Hicks & Small Screens at The Cedar on Saturday, October 29, 2022 on a co-bill with Aby Wolf & Eric Mayson. DJ Michaelangelo Matos spins from doors to show time and between sets. 

The Cedar: How do you feel like the reception has been on Airport Sparrows?

Dylan Hicks: It's been good. I've heard good things from listeners. I don't have a larger audience so, you know. The reception is usually a little bit quiet, but the people who are enthusiastic tend to be enthusiastic. It's been interesting because I think it's probably reached a few people who haven't previously heard my stuff and maybe it's a bit different than some of my earlier things. Hopefully, the older fans will stick with it and maybe attract some new people to the work.

The Cedar: How did it reach newer people?

Dylan: I don't know. I think it's because it’s pretty grassroots in terms of audience development. I think it was the internet and word of mouth. Somebody will post an appreciative tweet and that will inspire someone else to listen, so I've seen a few little reviews and things that maybe come through – people taking advice from their people they follow on Twitter, for instance, that kind of thing.

The Cedar: That's just the nature of the internet these days, you know? You released some new work with John Munson last year under Munson-Hicks Party Supplies. How did that project come about?

Dylan: I've been pretty productive – maybe over productive in terms of recordings. We had really finished that before the pandemic. We were still finishing, mixing, and mastering when the pandemic hit. We released it fairly shortly into the pandemic, the early summer of 2020. Later in 2020 and early in 2001, I made a record mostly at home, recording myself and then asking friends to add overdubs remotely. 

The Cedar: You’ve been making music for a long time. What prompted this new work?

Dylan: I work as a musician and worked at record stores in my 20s. When I turned 30 a couple things were happening. One was that we were touring and [I was] trying to have a kid. I was just feeling really defeated at the time because I just was not making money. I thought, “Logically, I just don't think I can do this anymore.” There wasn’t a lot of momentum in my career. It was probably a little premature to hang it up. But anyway, I started freelance writing where I was an intern for my friend Heidi Raskin. I must have been 31. There were also a few other people there at the same time as me, but it did feel a little strange to be an intern at that age.

I took on many different jobs at that time. One of my jobs was I was either an assistant booker or I was a runner for the shows, so one day I would try to help fill the theater, the next day I would get to drive around and pick up artists like the Monkees.

 

Dylan Hicks. Photo courtesy to Wilson Webb.

 

The Cedar: You were talking about feeling defeated in your career, but you've done all these jobs to make what you are now. Do you feel defeated anymore? How do you feel when you're looking back at it because you were able to do so many other things? 

Dylan: I would say that if I'm to be completely honest, obscurity, or relative obscurity, can sometimes feel like failure. I think for most people, there are definitely times when I feel like the world has spoken, and it's not interested [in what I am doing]. I have other problems. I have a tendency toward depression and anxiety, so when those things rise to the surface, they might find shelter in my anxiety. I feel defeat in terms of my obscurity, and then I'll lift out of those moments and I won't feel that way. That's the acknowledgement of that. 

I'll hear people say, “I don't care anymore,” and I envy that – that feeling of complete indifference to how things go. One advantage of working on a smaller level is that there's a lot of freedom to it. I do feel like I pretty much do the thing that compels me, and I don't really have to worry too much about its commercial prospects because it's not really an issue. And the audience is not really expecting me to play. 

I feel like I'm still learning things; I'm getting better. More often than not, I feel pretty good. But I've kind of come to realize that those periods of feeling down will come and go. But overall, I just love playing music. I've always loved listening to music. I love playing with other people. I also try to be part of a group, and I'm really fortunate to be able to come back to music. I know it’s not always possible for people to come back to music. I've figured out a way to be able to play music again.