Lately I’ve been feeling disconnected. There’s some sort of empty space between myself and what I love, and so I asked my manager and team to find somewhere I can play a show and squeeze me in anywhere — I just need to play.
I’ll be playing in Melbourne this Saturday at @staygoldmelbourne . I’d like to invite you to share your evening with me while I play some old songs, and unpack some new perspectives on them. It would mean a lot to me to see you there ❤️
Irrefutable proof of the ever elusive, and mysterious second solo album.
My manager is away and without signal today so I’m gonna share this with y’all. The idea was to make something that was an ode to an era of giants— my heroes and idols, and the bubble they created from which we take that sweet, sweet involuntarily sip each time the crackle of the tape pillows our ear. But, like in all my work, I thought the best way to achieve that was to eliminate as much of myself in the process as possible. I wanted to cleanse that ‘me’ element from this beautiful piece of music we were building, and when I finally sat down at home to listen, I couldn’t recognise it as mine.
While my team, my label and myself have the gruelling conversation on how to salvage it, or whether to start again, I go back and listen every now and again, but the same is always true. I just simply didn’t get it right.
My drinking got in the way of my work, and often times I wouldn’t even show up to the studio— treating the trip sometimes as a Thai language lesson or a Muay Thai training camp. Even that is not entirely the truth; it was more of a drinking excursion. I think I knew deep down that something wasn’t right, but with the pressure of an album budget, professionals’ time, and outside expectations, I couldn’t see any other way out, and instead chose to drown it in drink.
But time heals all things. The more I listen, the less punish myself and the more excited I become to try my hand at this again, god and record label willing.
So… it exists! But it might kill me to put this into the world and say it’s the best I could do. I just can’t do that anymore.
While my team and I figure out what the next step is, I’ll leave these here for you to tease your imagination and enjoy as a version of a project of love I was working on.
Thank you, always, for caring about what I do.
Personal Journal entry
Thurs, 12 June
There was a strawberry moon last night. A phenomenon once every eighteen years, when the moon appears larger in the night sky and glows a deep, pinkish red. I saw it through the window of a Leipzig airport hotel. It did seem larger than normal, but it was not pink.
Chocolate bar wrappers. The hum of the bathroom fan. Two men’s voices softly taking turns in German on a seat outside reserved for smoking.
A hotel room, in your own company, is a peculiar thing. I am in no way attached, and I do not own anything here, beyond some toiletries, pharmaceuticals, and a change of underwear, yet I allow myself the vulnerability to sleep here. Between the empty drawers and greasy curtains, I settle into the bedroom veneer – that thin line between private and public. Each one different, ever so slightly, yet manufacturing an identical atmosphere: a soulless and sterile collection of starched manchester and instant coffee, blending together into the collective conscious image of somewhere humans go to sleep.
Every new room is like waking up and forgetting where you are, as the surrounding details slowly materialize in front of you. Maybe the carpet is a different color, or the window is on an adjacent wall. Still, it is familiar. You are in the same place you were, last you checked.
Close the door behind you and inhale the must of countless other wanderers before you. There is always a feeling of relief, followed by the sobering vacuum of disconnection. It is not happiness, nor sadness, yet it is tangible, damp, and as distinct.
There I saw the strawberry moon, hiding from me and disguised as the regular moon, from my chocolate bar wrappers and the hum of the bathroom fan. Me, in my pathetic vulnerability, peering impassively from my hotel window while two voices droned in German between cigarettes outside.
Taken by @approachthewolf
