Adam Armijo
Audio By Carbonatix
It’s a blustery summer evening in Phoenix and the first storm of the season is sending down a pittance of raindrops, but any amount of precipitation in Arizona’s dry desert environment is music to a Phoenician’s ears.
It’s during this storm that we spoke with Brian Chartrand of Live From Lauren Canyon ahead their July 17 appearance at The Van Buren. He’s a local, well-respected musician who never thought he would become the popular artist he is today. His is an inspirational story that proves that anything can happen at any time, and anywhere.
Chartrand grew up in South Hadley, Massachusetts, a far different climate zone than the dry heat of Arizona’s desert. Instead of saguaros, he was surrounded by hardwood forests and sugar maple trees. With a population of about 18,000 people, Hadley is a suburban paradise, quiet and sparse.
It was in this little town that Chartrand became interested in music. At first, he says, it was a bit of parental bonding, with maybe a little sibling rivalry thrown in.
“I guess the first inspiration to music was probably my parents, who loved John Denver and James Taylor,” he says. “And then my brother — my middle brother — started playing guitar, and I had older brother envy, so I was like, I’m gonna play the drums, and we’ll be in a band eventually.’”
In fourth grade, he got his first drum kit, and before long, his mother realized he was serious about his dream and that he would need to know a little more about the craft.
“Well, if you’re gonna be a musician, you gotta know how to play the piano,” Chartrand recalls her telling him. “You gotta know how to read music.”
A few years after taking lessons and learning to read music, Chartrand realized that wasn’t the journey he wanted to take; he didn’t want to be a classical musician. Understanding that, his mother suggested getting inspiration from jazz legend Scott Joplin’s music instead.
“I was like, great,” Chartrand says. “That was the beginning of my interest in jazz and improvisation, and then I kind of found my voice.”
That voice was used throughout high school, where he got involved in a barbershop quartet.
Chartrand’s muse was working overtime during those years. He got involved in the school band, played in every concert band, jazz band, rock and garage band. He was becoming a self-taught musician in every aspect of the art.
“I started to understand harmony,” he recalls. “At one point, during that time, we had a little band, and no one could sing. I was starting to find a voice, and they said, ‘Well, why don’t you sing, Chartrand?’ And I said, ‘Well, I’m here. Somehow, we’ll find someone else to play drums.’”
He couldn’t imagine what was ahead throughout his 20s. He had a gift, and dedicated his life to it, but nothing was happening. He was playing in bands that didn’t make money, and it was frustrating because he couldn’t figure out how to be a full-time musician.
“All I knew was: it was zero, or you’re Prince. There’s no in between,” he says.
Thanks to his girlfriend at the time, in 2003, at 27 years old, Chartrand made a move to Phoenix that would eventually change his life. And like the city’s namesake, he would rise from the ashes of his crumbled dreams to finally get what he wanted all along.
It wasn’t easy in the beginning. He strung together some wine bar gigs on the weekends while also working at a nonprofit; that went on for several years. Like many a budding artist, Chartrand got a job at a restaurant.
“I don’t know if you know Matt’s Big Breakfast,” he says. “It started as a little shack downtown, and I was serving breakfast, which was a terrible choice, because I’m not a morning person. And then at some point in 2007, I was still waiting tables and playing music on the side. I had a band, and then the whole economic crash happened.”
Eventually, the restaurant closed. Chartrand could either go find another waiting job or do two or three more gigs a week. It paid about the same. Doing more gigs allowed him to live on music, which wasn’t the intention when he moved to Phoenix.
“But music has always been this thing in my brain and my soul, and I feel like this market, this city, could support it. I haven’t looked back.” In 2007, he became a full-time musician.
Chartrand had a song called “Better Ways to Spend the Day,” and singer Rich Price got wind of it. They became buddies on MySpace, and eventually Chartrand flew out to meet him in Los Angeles.
“I’m obviously a big fan of harmonies, and he’s a natural harmony singer, and I love his guitar work,” he says. “We became fast pals, and we put a project together, The Sweet Remains, and made a record in 2007, at the intersection of Laurel Canyon Boulevard and Sunset. So, the name of our first record was ‘Laurel & Sunset.’”
It was there that the roots of what would eventually become Live From Laurel Canyon were planted. He explored the musical lore of Laurel Canyon, where acts like Joni Mitchell, Buffalo Springfield and Carole King got their start.
In 2013, he created a touring show called Live from Laurel Canyon, a group that revisits classic folk songs. But don’t call it a cover or tribute band; he doesn’t like those terms.
As a musician and songwriter, he searches for the “why” behind each classic song, which can cause some confusion among his audience.
“We’re not trying to note-for-note replicate the studio recording. A lot of the songs you hear will be our own interpretations; others will be closer to the version on the record that you remember.”
As we began to wind down the interview, Chartrand pauses for a moment as if he’d heard something.
“Is that you?” he asks. But I heard nothing. It turns out to be an alert on his phone warning people in Phoenix about an oncoming storm. It seems fitting to end with that because, much like storms, success can be an unexpected gift.
“I had no idea that I could live in a town that supports me,” Chartrand says. “And that I could fulfill other passions, which is travel and interacting with people. I can’t believe what I get to do. It’s almost like some weird fucking twist of fate.”
Live from Laurel Canyon, 8 p.m. Friday, July 17. The Van Buren, 401 W. Van Buren St. Tickets start at $33.50.