Pandemic Baby by Chris Monti

In late March of 2020 I was puttering around the house on a chilly morning and started singing to myself, “You know we’re gonna have a pandemic, baby.” But of course we were already in a pandemic, but also Dr. L. J. Churchmont and I were going to have a pandemic baby—LJ was was pregnant. All performing had come to a halt because it wasn’t safe to congregate, and I was raking leaves for a living and running on coffee and canned sardines. I sang “We’re gonna have a pandemic, baby” over and over for half an hour and, as a writer will, I thought a lot about whether or not there should be a comma between “pandemic” and “baby”. Was this a song about humanity getting slammed with this global pandemic or about LJ and I getting a delivery from the stork in the middle of this mess? If I had remembered anything about songwriting, I would have remembered that the second verse will often tell you where you are headed. “You’ve got to try to stay out of sight...” OK, this song is about all of us.

But the phrase Pandemic Baby came to mean something else to me too: What are we going to do in this crazy situation? How will we adapt? How will we continue to work, love, be creative, keep our shit together? “Pandemic Baby” came to mean to: What will be borne out of the pandemic? How will we change and, specifically, how will we change for the better?

If that sounds overly hopeful, well, you’re not staring into the face of a beautiful baby at sunrise every morning.

Am I still raking leaves? No. I figured out how to teach music lessons online, I made a three-episode variety show (confusingly enough called Pandemic Baby) to give myself and a number of performers I admire a creative outlet, and I figured out how to play a dozen socially distanced, socially responsible house shows in the summer of 2020. Especially with the house shows, I learned that music really is important. I don’t think I made it through one of those performances without crying at least a few tears of joy and sadness and relief. And the small crowds were, to a person, moved. I felt like I was doing a good job, that my songs and playing were good, but I got the feeling that people were being moved by something greater than me: I was moving those air molecules around, but what was moving me?

Pandemic Baby is the pivots we’ve made in our careers and in our social lives, the good and creative things we’ve done despite the adversity.

It’s tough all over, baby, but you ain’t dead yet.

-Chris Monti
February 2021
Providence RI


Thanks to Graham for opening a recording studio half-a-block from my house. It was nice to look out the window of the studio and see LJ leaving to pick up the CSA while I was in the midst of recording a song. The sounds of Broadway permeate my sleeping and waking life, it is only right that they permeate this album too.

Thanks to Seth for the bang-up job getting Patience and Liberty (songs I worked on for 5ish years) on tape, and for mixing and mastering this album.

Thanks to David Brown for working on early mixes of these songs.
Thanks to Amy Webb for the cover design.
Thanks to Flannery Brown for the fish.

Thanks to Lucy for all the love and support.

Special thanks to Shara Salmon and Charlie Hudson for the weekend they let me stay in their cabin in Liberty, ME where I wrote Patience, Liberty, and Mean Streak.

Dedicated to L.J. Churchill and J.L. Monti

In loving memory of David Haller

Known for his effortless style and musical curiosity, Chris has immersed himself in West African guitar, dug deep into country-blues and old-time music, and moves seamlessly between diverse styles from Egypt, Peru and India. He has toured the East Coast, Canada and points west. He also enjoys his singular role in the community as a strange combination of entertainer, educator, and magician.

chrismonti.com