Short Circuits and Family Sparks

It always amazes me how much talent can rest in one family. Take my friend, author and illustrator, Dixie Miller Goode, who lives with her family in Crescent City, Cal.

She’s the kind of woman who can cook a Sunday roast with one hand, fold laundry with the other, and still have enough leftover energy to remind you that she once won the blue ribbon for quilting at the county fair. Dixie’s plenty gifted–but then you meet her niece, Remi Goode, and you start to realize that talent might be the family’s middle name.

Now, Remi didn’t grow up to quilt or cook—or at least I haven’t heard of her trying—but she can do something even more remarkable–she can turn anxiety into music. Not just any music, either, the kind that makes your toe tap before your brain has time to say, “Wait a second, wasn’t I supposed to be worrying about something?”

Her brand-new song, Short Circuit, proves it. I listened to it this morning, coffee in hand, and I’ll admit, it knocked me back in my chair.

See, anxiety is a monster. A big, lumbering, untamed beast that sneaks up on you at the grocery store, follows you into job interviews, and insists on tagging along to family reunions.

Many attempt to chase it off with deep breaths, yoga mats, or the occasional self-help book.But Remi? She took the monster, set it to music, and gave it background vocals.

In her own words from an interview with Hobart Rowland, the song is “a sarcastic critique” of those anxious thoughts and nagging inner voices. And let me tell you, those voices are mean little gremlins.

They whisper things like, “Everybody’s staring at you,” when everybody’s just wondering where the cheese dip went. Remi admits she catastrophizes, making mountains out of molehills, but instead of letting that swamp her, she leaned into it—wrote a tune that exaggerates every worry until it’s funny.

That’s how you tame a monster–you don’t fight it head-on, you outwit it.

What makes this all the more impressive is that Remi didn’t just stumble into music. Born and raised in Arizona, she’s a classically trained guitarist with a background in the Tucson Girls Chorus.

That’s the kind of resume that makes folks at a backyard barbecue whistle low and say, “Well, I guess we know who’s playing the guitar tonight.”

She met her partner, Gabe Lehrer, through their teacher—because fate doubles as a matchmaker when guitars are involved—and the two kept at it through Arizona State’s music program. While most of us were still trying to figure out how to clap on beat, Remi and Gabe were shaping a sound that blends folk, Americana, and sparkle reminiscent of Rickie Lee Jones.

They hit the road with friends, playing small venues across the Southwest, proving that music doesn’t need a stadium to make an impression. Eventually, they landed in Nashville, where singer-songwriters go the way some folks go to church—faithfully, wholeheartedly, and with the belief that a song can heal what ails you.

Her debut album, Things I’ve Said Before, is on the way, and if Short Circuit is any sign, it’s going to be the kind of record that feels both deeply personal and oddly universal. Because who among us hasn’t had a day when our brains decided to short-circuit at the worst possible time?Like freezing up during introductions, forgetting your zip code or cell phone number on a form, or accidentally calling your boss “Mom.”

In her video for Short Circuit, Remi takes it one step further—she gives her inner voices actual characters, letting them bicker, jab, and generally make a ruckus. It’s the kind of thing that would make you chuckle, nod, and think, “Yep, I’ve been at that party too.”

So here’s the truth of it–anxiety might never completely go away. It’s baked into some of us like raisins in a cookie—unwanted, but stubborn.

But Remi Goode proves there’s another way to deal with it. You can laugh at it, sing about it, and even turn it into art that makes other folks feel a little less alone.

And that, my friends, is what I call good—no, scratch that—Goode family talent.