Meg & Dia
Meg & Dia How it all started: “For Christmas when we were kids, ironically Dia got the guitar and I got the karaoke machine. We quickly learned, however, what we were natural at and destined to become. She became really focused on her voice and began singing little country ditties at local county fairs and retirement centers. I started out playing whatever was on the radio or whatever happened to be in my buddies' CD player. My dad was a DJ in his early twenties so he had quite an extensive record collection that I listened to occasionally. After I experienced my first heartbreak and I thought the world was going to end, the natural way to console my tattered heart was to write a song. Of course my parents, being the supportive and loving caretakers they are, showered me with much undeserved praise and encouraged me to keep writing. My sister and I heeded their advice and began writing and playing original songs together." – Meg

On Nick joining the band: “After playing a few shows together we decided we needed a bigger sound and therefore needed a few more individuals. We hooked up with Nick Price, our current drummer in March 2005. Nick's involvement in the band initiated with a modest wreck I had in a Smith's parking lot. I needed a bumper replaced and Nick just happened to be my mechanic. He seemed interested in our project so I made him buy a CD in order to listen to us (a minor gesture he still holds against me to this day). After we tested out his drum skills, Dia and I did our usual interrogation: "How serious are you? Are you willing to eat, sleep and breath in sync with us?” Basically the main question was: "Are you willing to give up your life?" His bleached buzz cut, over-sized motor cross T-shirts, and infatuation with Blink 182 left us more than skeptical. However, he has more than met our expectations. Not only is he an amazing dedicated musician; he has morphed into the responsible dad of the band and has actually taken the lead when it comes to business matters." - Meg

On songwriting: “It begins with a dream. Somewhere in between plunging off a cliff without any hope of reaching the bottom and finding myself nude in English class, a soft melody plays from a concealed jukebox. At this point I spring from my bed, grab my guitar, and if I am concerned about disturbing my sister, rush into a closet. Here, within my cube of concentration, is the moment when either a song is born or dies a slow nameless death. I repeat the jukebox melody several times in my head. Soon a chord progression and a song structure are laid out. The middle of the night is the paramount time to write lyrics. All day long thoughts are collected and as I lie in bed they are rearranged and settled. So by the time I am roused from sleep for a song writing session my thoughts are most focused and intense. After jotting down the basic structure and lyrics, I fall into bed reluctant yet exhausted and a bit apprehensive to how the song will take shape in the morning. The song is then presented to Dia. If she approves she'll learn the vocals, which she almost always recites perfectly after hearing it the first time. She'll then proceed to add her little quirks and particulars. Occasionally, after I have explained the lyrical content, she will modify a few lyrics here and there to convey the meaning more accurately." - Meg

On inspiration: “I write my songs about anything that can make me laugh, or cry, or really happy, which would usually be one of the two "L's": love and literature. If I'm not writing songs, or playing the guitar, I will most likely be found reading. I love English or British literature written in the 18th and 19th centuries. You know, really old, classy fairy-tale stuff. Also, any American Literature from the 20's. I love Fitzgerald, Salinger, and Steinbeck. "Monster," the first single from Something Real, is about East of Eden written by Steinbeck. "Indiana," a favorite on the album is about the book, Indiana, written by George Sand. I stayed up late finishing that book. After I turned to the last page and my eyes fell upon the last word, I hurled the novel to the floor and called my sister. Wailing with sobs of uncontrollable volume (my neighbors can confirm this), I asked her how to soothe my tender heart. With slight annoyance in her voice, after patiently listening to my lamentations, she said very calmly and matter-of-factly, "Meg, write a song." Well, O.K. And that's pretty much how it happens most of the time." - Meg