Providence Journal Pop Music Writer
Rick Massimo narrates a Flash movie
that includes portions of his interviews with
Billy Gilman, his mother and manager

'Billy Gilman's new pitch :
Onetime boy wonder has a deeper voice
as he tries a comeback at 17'

By Rick Massimo
Providence Journal Pop Music Writer

Cameras, lights and crew members are packed into Perks and Corks, a coffee shop-bar with dark beams and pastel walls in downtown Westerly, to shoot a short scene in Billy Gilman's Everything and More video. The goal here is a flashback sequence starring Gilman and his love interest in the video, played by 17-year-old Christine Perkins.

They're re-creating their first meeting -- Gilman's sitting at a bar with a cup of coffee; Perkins walks by; Gilman watches her go past, then gets up and sits with her. As is typically the way of video shoots, it's taking a long time to make it suitably electric.

All the while, Angela Bacari, Gilman's vocal coach and manager, hovers. "Everything and More" is the first single from Gilman's first album in two years, and as she explains later, video is a critical selling point for young artists, whom the country radio industry typically shies away from.

"This has to be really, really good," she says.

Finally, Perkins looks up from a book and times her luminous smile just right, Gilman pulls out a chair just so, and they've got the five or so seconds of footage that they've spent several hours going after.

Billy Gilman chasing after a girl? Sitting at a bar? Even if he's only drinking coffee? Heck, Billy Gilman drinking coffee?

It's been a few years since Billy, who lives in Hope Valley and turns 17 in three weeks, was the boy wonder of Nashville, with a slew of youngest-ever accomplishments, a Grammy nomination and 2 million albums sold. Now Gilman, a skinny teenager with big blue eyes, is looking to be, literally, the Comeback Kid.

"Even though I'm 16, it's like a comeback album," Gilman says during a break in filming, in a voice that's still fairly high. "Sometimes I feel old. . . . But it's not like I was in the hospital, or on drugs or anything."

It wasn't anything as dramatic as that, but it was just as debilitating.

The dreaded change

Everybody knew that the day would come when Gilman's voice would change. No one was sure what effects it would have, or how long the change would take.

Gilman first noticed something when he sang a couple of songs in December 2001 in Providence, during the bearing of the Olympic torch.

"I could feel it, and I said to myself, 'This is probably the last time I'll ever sing with this voice.' I just had a feeling. . . . I started to feel the pushing, and really having to try hard to get those high notes out. And it wouldn't sound as strong."

Billy went to the Vanderbilt Voice Clinic, in Nashville, where they told him that his vocal cords were indeed stretching, and he was in the first stages of a voice change. It could take a week, they said; it could take a lot longer.

Gilman says that his younger brother Colin's voice changed in about a week. It took Billy more than two years.

"I was doing a hundred concerts a year and just coming off a big Christmas tour," Billy says. "It was a lot. So part of me said, 'Thank you; I need this break.' But I didn't expect it to be two and a half years of a break."

"It was huge; it was major; it was devastating at times," says his mother, Fran Gilman.

Gilman still made occasional public appearances in his role as national youth chairman for the Muscular Dystrophy Association. He'd sing a song at a time, no more.

Gilman remembers sitting in a restaurant in Los Angeles a couple of years ago with singers including Patti Labelle and Luther Vandross -- "two of the greatest voices of all," Gilman says -- and when the table began singing, Gilman wanted to join in. But he couldn't.

Gilman recorded an album just as his voice was beginning to change -- 'Music Through Heartsongs: Songs Based on the Poems of Mattie J.T. Stepanek.' Stepanek had a rare form of muscular dystrophy, and had written several books of poetry. A variety of writers set them to music, and Gilman sang them. He could manage only about one song per day before his voice would give out.

"It was difficult. For me and for the producers. It never really squeaked. It just wouldn't come out. The vocal cords would not produce any sound. . . . Fortunately, I had Angela saying, 'OK, I can hear it -- you can't sing anymore or you'll damage it.' Some people don't have that luxury."

"I almost developed a bleeding ulcer from worry," Bacari says.

After that, Gilman made occasional MDA appearances, but mainly it was home to Hope Valley. After being on the road consistently since age 9. some adjustment was required, Billy and Fran Gilman say.

"He was around the house again," Fran Gilman says.

"Unfortunately," Billy jokes.

"But it was the best thing that ever happened to him. You take everything that happened, from the time you're 9 to 12, it was huge. 'Wonder boy,' they called him. . . . And then all of a sudden, you're 14, and you're home. Your tour has been canceled."

"That was the hardest for me mentally," Billy says, "because 35 people -- my road crew -- they were out of work. So I felt bad; I felt confused."

"When you're 13," Fran Gilman says, "that's not usually your worry."

But there was nothing to do but wait. Part of the problem, Billy says, was that his voice was so high to begin with.

"He would call me from home, almost in tears," Bacari says, "saying, 'It just won't come out.' And I'd go, 'Let it be.' "

Devoted fans

Gilman's sitting on some stone steps at Wilcox Park in Westerly, singing along to a tape of "Everything and More" while he's being filmed. His singing voice is still high, but it's lower than his speaking voice, and on the highest notes it's replaced the tinniness of youth with just a bit of husk.

These shots will be interspersed with the boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl, boy-regains-girl story of the video. Behind him, out of camera range, technicians set up lights despite the bright sunshine.

Perkins starts crying. As soon as Gilman's done singing, he stands up and yells to her, smiling, "Why? Knock it off!" and gives her a hug. But Perkins, of East Lyme, Conn., can't help it. The song reminds her of her grandfather, who died in February. "If he sings it again, I'm going to cry again."

A crowd gathers to watch Gilman tape the video. At times, it tops 30 people, including family friends and a man who shuffles through the park carrying a golf club. Gilman mimes the song four more times; Perkins keeps it together.

Kayla Edwards, 14, of Westerly, has been standing in the cold for more than an hour watching Gilman film. She's already gotten an autograph from him on a quick break, but she's still here. She's known him since he was 13, she says. "I love him so much."

When Alec Asten, one of the video's directors, signed on to do the shoot, he already knew Gilman was popular, but he says that he was "blown away by his fans." There's at least 40 Gilman-fan Websites.

When Sonalysts, the Connecticut studio producing the video, put out an open call for teenage girls to be Gilman's leading lady, Asten got calls from as far away as California. "I had to tell them, 'No, don't bother.' "

Changing teams

Most 15-year-olds with musical inclinations are dreaming of signing a record contract. At 15, Gilman was "praying" to be fired. And in 2003, Sony Nashville did just that.

In 2000, Billy Gilman, two days short of his 12th birthday, had become the youngest performer to hit the Billboard Country Singles chart. "One Voice" was a simple, goodhearted tale about a young child looking for -- and finally finding -- some peace in a crazy world. And it resonated. It spent five weeks at No. 1 on the country singles chart, and the accompanying album, of the same name, went to the top 5 of the country album charts. Gilman was the youngest performer to accomplish that.

In September of that year, the album went platinum -- Gilman was the youngest solo artist to accomplish that. His Christmas album, later that year, went gold. In 2001, he was nominated for a Grammy -- the youngest solo artist to accomplish that. He won an American Music Award for Favorite New Artist -- the youngest solo artist to accomplish that.

The 'One Voice' album sold 1.2 million copies. Its follow-up, 2001's 'Dare to Dream,' sold only about 500,000 -- good for a 13-year-old, but not one whose last album was platinum.

Then the people at Sony who signed Billy, who were like a second family, Bacari says, got fired or moved on. Bacari says of the new people in charge, "I was not getting the vibe that they were going to work with this kid." The fact that he was waiting out an extended voice change didn't help.

On this subject, Gilman sounds like an old pro.

"When you're with such a big conglomerate, they just stamp you, and you're just one more thing," Gilman says.

"I was praying that something would happen . . . . It was very stale; no new ideas were coming to the table."

Last year, Gilman signed with Image Music Group, a company known more for its video distribution than its record sales. It's a better fit, Bacari and Gilman both say.

"Country radio did not embrace Billy," Bacari says, "and we're still going to struggle to get them to embrace Billy. . . . It's always been television and video that has sold the records; it has never been radio."

Gilman adds that Image will market him to Adult Contemporary and Contemporary Christian markets.

More importantly, the dedication is there.

"We went with Image," Bacari says, "because they're a huge marketing company. They love [Billy], and they're behind him 100 percent."

Reality check

Last June, while Gilman was still waiting out his voice change, Mattie Stepanek died at age 13.

The boys had kept in touch. They saw each other at MDA events, and Gilman would get periodic updates on Mattie's condition from Mattie's mother.

Knowing Mattie gave Billy a sense of perspective.

"He set me in my place," Gilman says. "And rightly so; I needed that at that time."

Bacari says now of Mattie, "He knew he could die any minute. Any day of his life, he knew that any minute, something could go and he'd be gone. He taught a lot of people -- I don't know how many times . . . Billy would be upset about something and I'd go, 'Billy, think of Mattie.' And it snaps you back to 'What am I complaining about?' "

Gilman says he's also gotten a dose of perspective from his family. Many young musical acts are managed by their parents, and at first glance it may seem as though that's a good way to keep normalcy in a talented kid's life. Gilman, who is home-schooled and tutored and about to start 11th grade, sees it the opposite way.

"Nowadays, you have so many kids in the music business, or who are dancers or actors, and their parents are their managers, or their father's their lawyer -- and it gets in the way. The business part overruns the family.

"And that's not what my parents are about. They have no clue. They want to know that I'm safe -- I talk to them every day when I'm on the road -- but they're my parents; they step back."

Fran Gilman says she can relate. When she was 12, she left home to show quarterhorses in Pennsylvania. She says of Billy, "His passion [is] being on the road, and I can understand that. . . . You have to be a different kind of person to do what he does. And that's just how it is. He loves it."

"I have a business life in Nashville," Billy says, "and I come home to Rhode Island and it's 'Clean your room.' I have a good balance."

Back in voice

When Gilman hit the studio last year, his voice was back.

"It felt awesome. To get into the studio and to sing like I sang -- with a different voice -- but just [to] sing the way I haven't sang in a long time. It was really good."

Bacari, who almost worried herself sick watching Gilman record Heartsongs, says, "This time, I never even got a twinge in my stomach. It was so easy; it just flowed. He was so happy. His voice did whatever he wanted it to do."

Gilman and Bacari are both calling Everything and More the grownup version of One Voice. And there's a thematic consistency. "I [want] to have good, positive messages, but that reflect on a certain problem in the world, like abuse toward children, or cancer."

Image doesn't have a proven track record as a record company, and show business is a gamble under the best circumstances. Gilman says he's always known this, but in the past two years he says he's learned it in his bones.

"When I was on Regis, and the Jay Leno show, and touring," Gilman says at the video shoot, "I took it for granted. I look back and I realize that now because I can't remember it. Thank God for pictures. I can't remember it, because I was always thinking, 'Oh, this'll happen again; I'll do this again.'

"It was great, and I was loving it, and I was humbled and honored, but I would never really take it in, thinking that this may be the last time I ever do something. I thought I did, but I didn't. And I was kind of upset about that, because I've learned not to take this for granted anymore. I live in the moment always, and that's what helps."

'Everything and More' could put Billy back on the country-music map. Or it could fall flat on its face. Gilman knows that there's no way of knowing.

"There are a lot of people out there who can't wait to hear it. I just take each day as it comes and face it when it happens. If it's good, it's good; if it's not, oh well."

When Gilman was 12, he was the toast of FanFair, an annual smorgasbord of concerts and autograph sessions in Nashville. He's going back later this month, and he won't have a huge banner calling him the boy wonder of Nashville, but he's excited anyway.

"It's going to be better because I was so, so young. . . . There's a lot of people who are wondering, but I'm looking forward to it."

The magic touch

The video shoot is over. The last shot is of Gilman and Perkins walking around the small pond, occasionally chasing each other around a tree or cavorting in some youthful-romantic way. Kayla Edwards, talking to a reporter, lifts her glance regularly to jealously keep an eye on Gilman, threatening to throw Perkins in the water.

When it's over, handshakes, hugs and business cards are exchanged, and everyone gets ready to go. As the film crew packs up, Gilman and Bacari's husband, Al, head to Perks & Corks, where Gilman has left his stuff. About halfway there, a woman with two small children in tow recognizes Gilman and says that the two children are his distant cousins. "Remember that boy on the wall of your room? This is him," she tells one of the kids.

Gilman clearly has no idea whom she's referring to, and he's just gotten through two 12-hour days of shooting. He politely but clearly gives a quick genealogy that shows he is not related to the two children; then, in one quick move, he focuses his attention on the kids, and immediately engages them, asking their ages, where they live and whether they're as cold as he is in the late-winter late afternoon.

It's fan relations on an old-pro level. The kids leave charmed.

Then Gilman and Al Bacari head for the coffee shop, where soon Gilman's mother will pick him up and take him home to Hope Valley.

Appearances in coming weeks

Review : Billy Gilman : 'Everything and More'
(Image Music Group)

New voice, greater maturity on 'Everything and More'
By Rick Massimo

Angela Bacari, Billy Gilman's manager, had told me that his new album would hold no real surprises for his fans -- more of the same good-natured modern country and inspiring messages he's been known for since his debut album, 'One Voice,' in 2000. In fact, she said, this thematic and musical consistency was an important goal.

For most artists, that would signal a boring stasis. In Gilman's case, it's probably a good idea.

His childhood records had plenty of material, such as 'One Voice's' "What's Forever For" and "Little Bitty Pretty One," or 'Dare to Dream's' "Almost Love," on which it was clear that the young Gilman, for all his technical vocal skill, didn't really have a clue what he was singing about. Now, verging on 17, he's grown into his material.

As before, he's working at the intersection of country, pop and Christian music on these songs, written mostly by producer Sandy Linzer.

"Hey Little Suzie (The Cause of All That)" is a sweet midtempo romantic number, at least as much early-'80s pop-rock as country. It's a can't-miss single and its reminiscence of young love during a co-ed softball game is right down the teenage Gilman's alley.

"Everything and More," the first single, is a sweeping, dramatic ballad, pianos and strings, as much soul as country, where Gilman gets to show off his new voice. He'll always have a relatively high voice, but it's a good deal lower than before (and a good deal lower than his speaking voice) and has plenty of power.

The rest of the album mostly alternates between pleasant pop and winsome ballads, including devotional songs such as "Coming Home" and "Peaceable Kingdom," which includes an old-time vocal introduction.

There's also guitar-driven honky-tonk on "Three Words, Two Hearts, One Kiss" ("Let me spell it out for you, honey"? You go, Billy) and power balladry on "Is Anybody Out There," a tribute to the tribulations of a nameless soldier, and "Awaken the Music" (a version of Mozart's Symphony in G Minor, No. 40, with lyrics).

"Looked Into the Wings" is a ballad clearly about Bacari's standing by Gilman during his enforced absence, and "Pray for Him" is the closest thing to a successor to "One Voice," a song about a child's devotion to a wayward big brother.

Gilman has emerged from his voice-change hiatus with a more powerful instrument than ever.

The album comes out Tuesday, May 3, but you can hear it now on www.cmt.com's "Listening Party"

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