Tai Shan – “Wheels and Gasoline”
Americana Highways presents this premiere of Tai Shan’s song “Wheels and Gasoline” from her forthcoming album Wildflower Moon, which is set for release on . The album was produced by Brandon Bee and Neilson Hubbard, with engineering by Dylan Aldredge.
“Wheels and Gasoline” is Tai Shan on vocals and guitar; Austin Garrison on backing vocals; Danny Mitchell on piano; Juan Solorzano on piano; Lex Price on bass; Neilson Hubbard on drums; and Danny Mitchell on flugelhorn.
We had a brief chat with Tai about the song. The premiere appears just beneath the interview.
Americana Highways: What is this song about?
Tai Shan: Since 2016, I have spent a large portion of my time on the road touring in a 13ft fiberglass trailer called a Scamp with my husband, who sings, beatboxes, and plays trumpet alongside me as a duo. With a little bed on one side and a little couch on the other, the Scamp has found us a home on the beaches outside of Cabo San Lucas, Pensacola, beside mountain rivers in eastern Washington, Salt Lake City, the Colorado Rockies, and sheltered us in Walmart parking lots. We have been woken up by buffalo scratching their backs against it, an old man announcing “tamales” at 8 am, and headlights in the middle of the night from a neighbor who thought we were drifters— I guess we are.
Thursday to Sunday are the best days for shows. So often, my husband Austin and I would find a campground right outside of town to stay in, or a Walmart parking lot, or ask the venue to stay in their lot. Sometimes, a fan at a show would offer their driveway. Monday to Wednesday, we would get a little more lost. As a private online teacher of Songwriting, Voice, Guitar, and Ukulele, I would find the closest cell tower and park near it to conduct my lessons. After teaching, we could usually find national forests to stay in. One hack we love is staying in lookout towers. There are lookout towers from California to Montana that you can reserve for around $50 a night. There is nothing as magical as listening to the wind climb and fall over a mountain range, picking fresh huckleberries on a bright, still morning, and watching the northern lights stream over you like a glittering fish, close enough to touch.
When I sat down with my co-writer Hal Odell to write “Wheels and Gasoline,” I said I wanted to write something about getting lost in my travels. There is a feeling in it, a happiness, to just keep going for months on end. I found myself telling him about the cougar we surprised on a dirt road in Montana, a literal lion so huge we mistook it for an elk; for the moose that I accidentally walked up to because it was so camouflaged, I saw his eye first hovering in the forest (my brain realizing what I was looking at a moment later). He laughed as I told him about the mystery ghost herd of cattle that I had a standoff with in my Honda Fit. They were grizzled, been-in-the-woods-for-years cattle, and when I ran into a ranger later that day and told him of the small herd, he said, ‘I have never seen them and I have worked here for 15 years, but I have heard they existed; an old Indian woman let them go 50 years ago and I guess they have survived.’
Travel is one thing and music is another. Once in Montana, north of Yellowstone, we played a small bar while I was 7 months pregnant. A man came in while I was singing a cover of “Wonderful Tonight” by Eric Clapton. He was suited up in deerskin leggings, a buffalo skin shirt, and a crumpled leather hat. As he came closer, he outstretched his arms and I could see tears streaming from his face as he sang every word. After the show, I walked up and introduced myself. He said, ’15 years ago, I walked into the woods, built myself a house on a mountain, hunted for my food, and stayed gone. But all through that time, one song was stuck in my head. Yesterday, I decided to come back, so I trekked from sunup into this town and walked into this bar and here you are singing the song that was stuck in my head for 15 years.’
“Wheels and Gasoline” is more than a song for me. It’s a lifestyle. The woods are my church, the road my religion. I really feel like the road is like a river coursing through my veins. As I write to you, I am on tour in Moscow, Idaho, with a house concert to perform tonight as I head to the Oregon Country Fair tomorrow to perform. I make my living teaching Songwriting, Voice, and Guitar online, and I make my happiness traveling from town to town playing shows.
Specifics on the lyrics: Owning a home and being a mother were pushed hard on me. I think it’s just what is told to us that we should want. So, when I became a mother in 2019, I began taking my daughter on the road at four months. Then again at two years after the pandemic hit. Now, we are a family band with my daughter involved in the show, passing out shakers to the kids and singing along with us. We have a home base in Nashville and take month-long trips. All of the imagery in the bridge of the song has happened to me: I have slept under the stars near the Great Divide, seen herds of elk, buffalo, antelope, and even a pod of dolphins as wide as a football field. The northern lights streamed above me so close I could almost touch them.
AH: Who/what were some influences when it came to writing the song?
TS: While on the road, I love to listen to music. Taylor Swift’s Folklore and Jim Croce heavily influenced this song; they both have such rich imagery in their songs and ‘Operator’ is the only song that makes me cry on command. Other influences on this song include Amos Lee, Jason Isbell, Shovels and Rope, and Gillian Welch. There is a chemistry to a good road trip song, and they have mastered it… it’s all about the vibe.
AH: Any cool/funny/interesting stories from writing/recording this one?
TS: It was December, and I was staying with family in Seattle. They dropped me off at the airport, and I flew to the tiny town of Kennewick to work with Brandon Bee, a producer of several Americana artists, including Beth Whitney, Bradford Loomis, and, interestingly, Justin Bieber as well. As our plane began to descend, we were shrouded in a cloak of fog. Turbulence shook the plane, and the pilot pulled up, announcing that the fog was too thick. We returned to Seattle, and I waited for another flight, biting my nails to make it on time.
The next flight did land on time, and I made it to the little converted bomb shelter that Brandon uses as his studio. Recording went smoothly but quickly. I had two days to record three songs, including building the track. Brandon was a wiz with a ‘band in the box,’ playing every instrument you hear besides the main acoustic—a Swiss army knife of a musician with a gentle touch for keeping the original integrity of the song.
Thanks for chatting with us, Tai Shan!
This album is subtitled “a collection of songs inspired by my journey through motherhood.” In light of that, this song highlights the decisions and commitments that have to be made to raise a child, if you are a free spirit, and when this is your heart speaking: “I don’t need to work another year / Of my life for two weeks in Florida / When I can sleep every night where I belong / I carve the curves and lines / Along another road / The highway signs / Don’t tell me where I’m going / They tell me where I am.” Sometimes it’s just beautiful the way everything comes together in life after all, and Tai Shan highlights the way that motherhood, and parenting, can ultimately be streamlined with our true selves.
Find the music here: https://show.co/C9DLG3c
and more information here on her website: https://taishanmusic.com/home
