Okay Headspace

In the years since releasing 2016's "Expectations", I wasn't sure it mattered if my songs had a listener. Without a listener, songwriting was easy. Whatever was on my mind was worthy of a melody, and singing those melodies, and recording them, and listening back to those recordings, was plenty of fun without having to involve anybody else. And so, songwriting became an exercise of burrowing deeper inside, a tree falling in (my) forest. Over a couple years, out of this place a chunk of songs developed which felt cohesive, album-like simply because they were all speaking from the same voice (mine) to the same listener (also me). But that’s not the whole truth. In that window of time, I started sharing an apartment with Emily. And, for Emily, announcing what she’s doing with a song is fundamental to the doing of anything. The chorus of “Here Comes The Weekend (There it Goes)”, which she wrote, is a small sample of her regular homey jingle-making. So, as the two of us would clunk around, hissing our little counter melodies, I knew I had something worth pursuing when my songs got some airtime on her voice. And so, maybe I was writing the songs for some-one after all. And rightly so—the ear can’t speak and listen! Recorded music, unlike apartment mumbling, pre-supposes a listener. It’s a bet, a bit of betting your whole life on one roulette spin, which most don’t have the savings for (emotionally or financially). And you’re here, as a listener (and a reader), making good on that hope. So, I’ll ask one little thing if it isn’t too much. These songs are meager, daily—I suspect you might find them simple and abrasive. Give the whole thing one listen. I’m not asking that you enjoy it, or share it. Just, give me some eartime.