INTERVIEW: David Ramirez on Staying True to Himself: From Grit, Love and ‘All the Not So Gentle Reminders’
DAVID RAMIREZ | FEBRUARY 22ND, 2025 | BY RACHEL JOY THOMAS
David Ramirez, a pinnacle artist in the world of Rock and Roll, Americana, and Folk music, is set to release a career-defining album on March 21st. All The Not So Gentle Reminders marks one of many changes in the musician’s life, but this time, the change comes in Ramirez’ making authentic music “for music's sake.” Singing with a resonant baritone, he performed in Cedar Park, Texas at the Haute Spot on February 22nd with a plethora of additional dates to introduce crowds to his new era.
Euphonic reporter Rachel Joy Thomas had the opportunity to speak to David Ramirez before his performance.
So, I've heard about your new album All the Not So Gentle Reminders, and a lot of my questions will be about that. The first one's a little broad. What was the ultimate goal with that record?
Well, it had been a long time since I had even written a new tune. I had gone through a pretty serious split, and the last thing I wanted to do was write heartbreak songs or release a heartbreak record. So initially, the goal was to put something out that was maybe a little more hopeful or told stories about my life that weren’t directly related to sadness.
I think it’s inevitable for what I do to be a little melancholic, (but) I didn’t want a heartbreak record. That’s where I started.
Then that grew into wanting to play around a lot more with music. My records in the past, the songs are musical, but they usually follow a standard verse-chorus-verse-chorus structure. I had never worked with strings or horns before. (I had) never really written an intro for a record or had long musical outros for songs.
Once I knew that I didn’t want to write a heartbreak record, I started thinking about the album in terms of music and vibe. That’s pretty much where I started, and then after some work and time, it found itself.
You mentioned not wanting to stick with the typical verse-chorus-verse structure and how you incorporated intros, outros, and a more cohesive sound throughout the album. Were you consciously trying to create a more unified piece rather than a collection of individual songs?
Yeah, I think so. That also connects with the lyrics. There are a lot of references to dreams. As I was writing, I explored what "reminders" were—these moments in my life that made me question, "Did that really happen? Are they actual memories, or are they past-life things? Were they dreams?"
The soundscape that emerged from that lyrical place was something I wanted to shape into a kind of fairy dream world, and I think we got there. It was a lot of fun to explore.
So, musically, I think there is a lot of cohesiveness. I don’t know if I would call the record a concept album, but it does have this real connective tissue between each track.
Yeah, for sure. I noticed that when I listened to the two songs currently out. Going off the idea that this isn’t necessarily a breakup album, “I Got People” feels like a reminder of the platonic relationships we have in life—the ones that aren’t necessarily romantic but still deeply meaningful. Can you tell me more about the process of writing that song?
Yeah. That song is a reminder of the different relationships I do have in my life, even though there was this one that is now largely missing.
It’s hard to talk about loss in a way that feels upbeat and peppy. But one day, I was sitting at the piano playing with some chords, and I found a little progression that reminded me of Elton John. That’s really where it started…Through humming different words and melodies.
I think the night before, I had stayed up late hanging out with some friends. In my sad, exhausted state, it was a reminder that even though I might not have this one person in my life anymore—I do have people who care, people who are around, and people who love me deeply. (I have) friends who will hang out until five or six in the morning and just shoot the shit with me.
I read that you wrote this album while on a writing getaway. Can you tell me about that experience?
Yeah, I wrote most of it in Waverly, Alabama. There’s this great venue called Standard Deluxe just outside Auburn. The owners, Scott and Amy, have become (my) friends since I’ve played there a few times.
I was explaining to them how difficult it had been for me to write at home and that I was looking for a place where I could just get away and live in solitude for a while. They were kind enough to offer up their place.
I packed up my car with a bunch of gear and recording equipment and went out there twice, spending a total of a little over four weeks. I think I wrote about half the record there—that’s at least where it started.
What was a particularly memorable moment or experience from your time there that inspired a track?
Well, “Music Man” was written out there, which was really great. And “Waiting on the Dust to Settle”—where the album title came from—also came from that trip. That was a very exciting moment because I knew I wanted to write something hopeful to start the album. But that’s an easy thing to say—not necessarily an easy thing to accomplish.
I’ll never forget writing that song. It was maybe three in the morning, and the fog had settled in over these massive trees outside this tiny little cabin. I was sitting on the front patio, thinking about my life and about advice my mother had given me—about embracing pain instead of running from it.
That was the moment I knew I was onto something. I realized I’d soon be going into the studio to make my sixth record.
On “Waiting on the Dust to Settle,” you say, “I'm over the anger, the sadness, all the not-so gentle reminders of my nature. I'm moving forward, I can see it coming soon.” I'm imagining the title All The Not So Gentle Reminders came from that process, and it was a very cathartic experience for you. Are you still in the process of going through all the not-so-gentle reminders of nature?
Yeah. That might be a thing that I think we all will be continuing through for the rest of our lives.
I think not being afraid of being reminded of where we came from and who we once were—that’s the key. I will always be going through that process, trying to refine myself, trying to evolve. I will no longer be afraid of those reminders and memories. Ultimately, I will no longer live in shame for choices and decisions I've made in the past, and I won’t be so overwhelmed with guilt. Instead, I'll allow myself to be free from my past. I think that’s really the kicker.
Music is quite connective, and it creates an experience where people can connect with each other across differences, over anything they’re experiencing. What do you want people to understand—about themselves or the album—when they listen to it?
That’s a tricky question. I no longer write records expecting or hoping people will feel or respond in a specific way. I have to do these things for myself—for my own mental and emotional survival.
I hope people find enjoyment in it, maybe get to know themselves a little more. But how others respond hasn’t been my priority for a couple of records now. I find that when I expect people to react a certain way to my work—or to me as a human—I end up disappointed.
Outside of just enjoying it and picking up a little snapshot of a human trying desperately to figure themselves out and navigate the world, I don’t really have expectations. This was something I needed to get out. So, fingers crossed people like it, but beyond that, I don’t go to bed at night hoping for a specific kind of connection.
You’ve talked about making music for the sake of making music now, as more of an individual experience. You also mentioned that, for a couple of records now, you’ve detached from the mindset of making music for a specific reason or to evoke a response. What was the moment that shifted your thinking from the business side to more of an artistic venture?
Well, I’ve forever and always wanted to be signed to a big label. I’ve forever and always wanted to sell out 2,500-cap rooms. I've always wanted to play a late night show or SNL.
And in the past, working with certain people on the business side, there were always these meetings before writing a record where we'd discuss song tempos, hooks, and getting to the hook quicker—a long list of things that could supposedly help me reach these tangible goals.
So, I took people's advice. I did the things that were "required" of me. And none of those things on my little vision board ever came to fruition. Years of disappointment from playing the game forced me to look in the mirror and ask: “Why am I doing this? Who am I doing this for?”
When I first picked up a guitar or a pen and pad, it wasn’t for anything but expressing myself. And if I can’t get back to that place, I think I’ll be deeply, deeply unhappy for the rest of my life.
The first record I made without a specific agenda was My Love Is a Hurricane in 2020. There were conversations about delaying the release because of COVID, waiting for the world to return to "normal." I had worked on that album for 17 months, and no one knew when the world would fully reopen. That’s not what it was about for me.
So, I said, “No, we’re releasing it now, despite what’s going on.” I made this record for me, and I wanted to put it into the world. That was the first time I truly did something for myself. And thankfully, I’ve continued that with All The Not So Gentle Reminders.
That sounds liberating—to let go of the industry’s stipulations, especially considering how daunting and perilous the music business can be. With that in mind, what excites you about performing right now? What do you love about being on stage?
I mean, that’s when it all comes together.
Making records is a beautiful thing—it’s a test of your creative self, of the crew you bring together. It’s intimate, it’s sweet, you’re locked in, and it’s like a little pressure cooker. I love making records, but that’s completely different from performing live.
Ultimately, I love being behind a microphone in front of people the most.
Maybe it’s settling into my older age or having done this for over 18 years now, but I feel very comfortable on stage in a way I hadn’t before. (I feel) comfortable in my own skin. I’m not so desperate to prove I can sing or write. Now, it’s just about getting on stage with my band and playing a better show tonight than we did last night. That was the goal on this last tour, and I saw it happen in real time. It was really sweet and cool. I hope that continues throughout the year.
Do you have any songs from All The Not So Gentle Reminders that you're especially excited to perform for a crowd?
Oh, yeah. “I Got People” and “The Music Man” have been so much fun to play live. We don’t play many others from the record yet. I might open or close the evening solo with a new song, but the album isn’t out until March. I don’t want to overload the set with too much unreleased material.
So, we dig pretty deep into my catalog, playing a lot of older stuff. But “I Got People” and “The Music Man” have been a blast every night.
Out of your older discography, are there songs that still feel really special to perform?
“Watching From A Distance” and “Strangetown”—I’ve found a new love for those in a live setting.
“Strangetown” is one of my oldest, (from) when I was mostly playing solo. It never really got the love it deserved with a full band, so playing it now feels really fun—it makes me feel young again and reminds me why it all started.
As for “Watching From A Distance,” I never felt like we nailed it live in years past, but now it’s really clicking. Those are the first two older ones that come to mind, but we play a pretty heavy set—75 to 90 minutes—so there are plenty of others.
Yeah, I’m excited to see it in action.
I’m glad you’re coming out—it’ll be fun.
This interview has been minimally edited for clarity and length.
All The Not So Gentle Reminders will be available on streaming platforms on March 21st.