Scott Sean White’s debut album “Call It Even” was actually born in a 14’ x 10’ travel trailer in Kerrville, Texas, in the early 70’s, long before he ever sat down at a piano or picked up a guitar or sang a note. His songwriting voice, his stark transparency and raw honesty, were being shaped at the earliest age in a childhood, where as he puts it, “all the major adult figures in my life were either alcoholics or addicts… or both.” It was an out-of-control, always off balance upbringing full of domestic violence and seeing things he couldn’t un-see. One of the alcohol fueled fights between his mother and stepdad even saw a .22 rifle get emptied through the wall. That was his mother’s fourth husband. And the husband before that – Scott’s real dad – beat her so bad one time while she was pregnant with him – that she ended up in the hospital. It was just the way things were, and yet somehow, he survived. He will tell you that it’s by the grace of God.
As he emerged out of all that into his twenties, and began to sort through all the baggage and scars that came with it, music had become his life and livelihood. At first, the music part was funk, pop, R&B, and hip-hop. He was playing keyboards in bands and engineering at Dallas-area studios while producing tracks for other songwriters in almost every genre. There were some originals and a lot of covers in a pay-your-dues and pay-your-bills season of life. After all, he had a daughter at age 21, got married at 22, and he and his wife, Brenda, had another daughter a couple years later. But the stories Scott had boiling up inside of him couldn’t be told in those beat driven genres.
So by his mid-thirties, while writing a handful of country-leaning songs, he felt a tug to go to Nashville. He had a few friends up there but more importantly, he had something to say… and he wanted to learn how to say it. He describes his first trip up from Texas as “extremely intimidating AND inspiring at the same time.” The level of songwriting on the streets of Music City was like nothing he had ever heard. Part of him wanted to quit, but a bigger part just wanted to get to work and learn the craft. So, with the support and urging of his wife, he started making trips, in between his weekend band gigs, once or twice a month. He had a publishing deal by 2007 and was immersed in the community and the life. He had finally found a musical “home” – not necessarily in the town – but in the genre. The lyric-driven, story-driven, real-life-driven art of songwriting.