Radical Face Ghost 2007 Rapidshare Library
So it’s the first day of 2020!Something about repeating numerology always summons a science-fiction narrator in my head. I hope the novelty of how futuristic this year sounds doesn’t wear off. And while I’m not much of a new year’s resolutions kind of person, I do enjoy sitting on such an obvious fence in time and looking both backwards and forwards. For today, I will talk about the forward stuff.First off, I have started a new project. I actually started it a while ago, but I am beginning to release it.
It’s called “Human Mother.” I got the name from a friend’s wedding, where the woman leading the service said something along the lines of: “This is not only seen by the heavenly father, but also by our human mothers.” I laughed a little louder than I should have, but putting “human” before otherwise normal words always makes them suspicious!- “Are you enjoying your human dinner?”- “I’ll gladly come to your human party.”- “Let’s shake human hands on it!”And this continues my tradition of naming projects after things I bump into the wild that make me laugh. Trying to come up with a meaningful and cool name is a drag. Or it is for me.
I never enjoy it. So names like “Radical Face” and “Human Mother” it is.But as for what this project is? Well, I miss making music that focuses on production, uses electronics and samples and whimsy, and is not quite so personal all the time. That used to be the space that “Electric President” filled for me as a songwriter, because Alex and I always hid little jokes inside the songs, or just treating practices as a way to have fun. And I really miss that.
Alex and I haven’t played together in over 5 years now, and with us living on opposite coasts and me becoming more of a hermit, I don’t know if that will really happen again. Maybe I’ll get him to throw bass on some of these songs long distance? I’m not sure. But even that is really the point of this project. Something that is more based on whims, weird processes, a sense of humor, and bothering people along the way.I put up a track for the project recently, and I made a video for it with the O’Shea Brothers, who are responsible for the wonderful skate video series “A Happy Medium.” I met them in 2011 when they invited me to the premiere of “A Happy Medium 2” after giving them a bunch of music to use in it. After I finished this track for Human Mother, I had a nightmare where I cracked my head open skateboarding and fragments of memories starting showing up (I grew up skateboarding, so this isn’t as odd as it might sound).
So I decided to film this weird dream. Needing some skaters for this, I reached out to the O’Sheas, and they recruited Aaron “Jaws” Homoki to be the lead for the video.
Aaron is both a maniac and genuinely sweet guy (he did this for free! I think I just gave him a DVD set of Attack On Titan as payment, hahaha), and the whole project was really fun, despite being in Arizona in the summer. So yeah, Human Mother will be my home for my more electronic and experimental music for the foreseeable future. I have a lot of other tracks already done, and none of them really sound the same, and I’ll be putting them out whenever I have time, or I’m in the mood. Nothing about this will be overly scheduled.
I have enough of that in my life already. Cheers for chaos.Beyond that, this year will have a lot for Radical Face in it. I am about 30 demos deep for “Into The Woods” and starting to make more final versions of tracks. For how I work, that means I am about 30 percent into the album.
But I am really getting my finger on the new direction/sound, which is one of the most exciting phases of making a record. So I’ve been pretty happy to spend as much time recording as I can these days. And this will come out this year. Now that I am putting records out myself again, one huge advantage is I don’t have to wait until a record label has an open slot for me to release it. I get to pick for myself this time. Yay!And to flex that very thing, I already ave a B-Side from this run of songwriting that I’m going to put out really soon.
Just a random single, really. But I can do those things this time.I also have the US tour coming up really soon. This might be the last traditional tour I do for a while, so if you have any interest in seeing a show, this is your window. And from the European run, Jon Bryant was kind enough to send me some photos from the shows, because I never think to shoot pictures when I travel. I’ll post a few below. And thanks again for everyone who came out to the European shows, and for being such an attentive audience.
It makes all the difference. So we are fast approaching the end of 2019. I’ve been back from tour for almost three weeks now, and as usual, I got sick almost immediately after I got home. I spent the first week getting over the flu, catching up on sleep and getting used to normal life again. Once I felt human, I went right back to recording.
All pretty standard for me.So first off, I would like to thank everyone who came out to these European shows. I honestly wasn’t sure how all this would go.
I’ve been putting out records for some time now — 19 years if we are talking self-released, and 14 years through labels. 12 full-lengths, from different projects, and about 10 EPs. Some part of me is always expecting it all to dry up, and that people will stop coming. This isn’t a reflection on how I feel about my work, but more that I don’t really understand how I got here. I’ve rarely been covered by music press, I barely use social media, and I’m not the most social person in general. I’ve had some people who have really championed me inside the music industry, but it’s a short list. So booking a tour, not around a record release or something that you can advertise with, and having people still show up was a bit surprising.
In a really nice way. So thank you.
I’m still not exactly sure how I reached you, but somehow I did, and you cared enough to leave your house and come share an evening. Life is strange.But one thing that always happens on tour is I have a lot of time to think.
Too much time, if I’m honest. One of the odd things about driving around and playing shows is that there is so little middle ground. I can’t speak for anyone else on this, but personally I am either bored or I’m stressed out — mostly the former. If it weren’t for the actual shows being fun, there wouldn’t be much to speak of. It was also unfortunate that my two days that had neither travel nor a show were both raining pretty hard. But there is so much time spent in vans, not talking, or sitting alone in foreign rooms, and I can only read and play my switch so much.
So inevitably, my mind wanders.One thing I thought a lot about is how much the world of music has changed since I was first getting involved and seeing some success, and how much the value system has shifted. Writing about all of these shifts would be way too much for one blog post, but there’s one I caught myself coming back to a good bit. And that is Content is now entirely free.Not an epiphany, I know, but I started digging into that more, and what it means to me. Because even if you want to buy music, ways to do so are shrinking. And due to our inevitable conversations about use of resources and the effects on our environment, that trend will continue (I am having more and more trouble justifying printing physical releases these days, both from a cost and wastefulness perspective). So when an album comes out, the only thing we now spend on it is time.
Attention is the currency. And the stream is endless. Don’t like what you’re hearing? Well, click on something else. It goes on forever.Watching those who work in the music world, this has been a source of significant dread for a lot of people. Which I can understand.
It takes a lot of effort, time and money to produce things, especially with high expectations and standards, and when the final result is to release it for free, just hoping it gets attention, and that the attention it garners will lead to some sort of income or security, either from ad revenue built into platforms like youtube, or a sponsorship, or the attention of a larger industry with real budgets well, it all gets a bit abstract. And that abstract feeling often drags anxiety along with it. And anxiety often makes people more conservative and less willing to take risks. I think it’s no small part in why you see so many people just copying what has already worked.But the more I thought about this, the more I had the opposite reaction. I find it freeing. If no one is expected to pay for the work, then it dramatically reduces the sense of responsibility on my end. It changes music from a product to more of an idea.
And since ideas are free, it only makes sense to me to be more free with them — to take more chances and explore even more aggressively, without worry for how they will be received. Because worst case scenario, people just have to hit that “next” button. You no longer have to contend with someone feeling ripped off when they don’t like you’re work, just being disappointed. For me, that difference is night and day. People aren’t losing money on this.
And while I have never been terribly concerned with how I’m received, I think this has flicked over the last domino in that chain.I don’t know why this is just now clicking so clearly with me, but whenever I have set out to make a record, it is still, at least to some small degree, something I perceive as someone having to invest in on the other end — like the listener’s investment is a foregone conclusion. But that’s really just something I’ve carried over from when I first got into music, pre-internet, taking chances on CDs based off a review I read or a recommendation from a friend. A record is now something that someone can choose to invest time in, but with no financial risk on their part. This difference felt particularly sharp to me while touring. Live shows have a real weight of responsibility to them. People are paying money and then physically coming to a space to watch you play music. They have to plan in advance, maybe even get a babysitter, or leave their home when they are much happier being an introvert wrapped in a blanket, and they have to stand there for the duration.
I am very concerned that I uphold my side of this bargain to the best of my ability — which may still not be enough, sure, but I will try with all the resources I have on that particular day.But records are not like that, not anymore. They are absolutely optional. Hell, most people don’t even know they’re there at all. So I don’t have the most sympathy when I see people complaining that they don’t like someone’s new work.
I now just imagine someone sitting on their toilet, frowning as they type a comment about how this free media isn’t precisely their taste at this exact moment. To which I internally just laugh. Not that people aren’t entitled to their opinions — of course they are. They just don’t have the same weight or bearing in this current environment.But I also wonder about how else this lack of investment on our parts as listeners changes the way we listen. I can’t tell you how many tapes, CDs or records I’ve bought that I did not like at first, but grew to love only because I had paid for them. I typically had no other new music to listen to, because I didn’t have the money to try again, so I gave those albums way more of a chance than I probably would have nowadays. And songs I started out hating became my favorites, and vice-versa.
I learned that lesson over and over, and I genuinely think it’s why I developed a love for albums, and why I have spent so much time writing concept records. But now, with everything being free and so constant, I have to fight the impulse of impatience. It’s so easy to constantly click “skip” if something doesn’t grab me in the first twenty seconds that I start losing sight of what I even enjoy. Not mention the problem that I only know what I enjoy now, not what I will enjoy.
Being impulsive only reduces my chances of being seduced by something new. But the only reason I have that outlook is from investing in albums first. I wonder if that will be an antiquated way of viewing art in time.But I don’t want to imply I have any answers here.
Because I don’t. I think we are in the wild-west right now, and not just with music. TV, film, news, information warfare, the concept of experts, social status, human interaction the internet is having its way with all of them. Some I like and some I don’t. I also know that my personal feelings about it don’t matter much. Genies almost never go back into their bottles.
And whenever the landscape around you is changing, I think it’s pretty common to wonder what you’re place in it will be, or if you will have one at all. But it’s during times like these that I am glad I have spent so much time designing my own little worlds. I’m used to inventing a place to go when I can’t sort where I fit in. And now, with even less concern for the tourist who might see the result, I think I can design with even more abandon.
Because the ticket only costs a click and a little bit of free time.I have more to say, but I always do. Until next time, I hope everyone is well.
I had a release last Friday, and over the weekend had my first actual day off in a while. I mean the kind where there is absolutely nothing to do on a calendar. Not even errands. Waking up with zero agenda is a kind of freedom I don’t think I will ever take for granted again.But I finished everything for this reissue of Ghost. I have mentioned it elsewhere, but I am back to doing everything in-house. I started my not-quite-a-record-label, Bear Machine, back in 2011.
And like most things, there's a story there.Bear Machine initially came about because of my Family Tree concept. I was really excited by the idea of building this semi-fictional family tree into a series of records, and I was at a point when I wanted to do something big and ambitious. But everyone I worked with at the time was not into it.
The feedback was basically: “This is too complicated, people won’t be able to follow it, and you are hard enough to get press for as it is.” To be fair, they were not wrong. But I’m pretty selfish when it comes to making music. I’m always addressing my own curiosity first and foremost.
I have trouble working on records I’m not excited about, unless I’m hired for a very specific role, like as a mix engineer. So my response to this lack of interest was to do it myself. I asked my manager, Rachel Cragg, if she wanted to join me in self-releasing The Roots, and so we did.Those six months were really rough. It may seem simple to put out an album, and it has certainly gotten a lot easier over the past 8 years, but so many things you never anticipate show up along the way. Rachel had to find ways to book tours, release records in languages we do not speak, find good printers and figure out general distribution.
I was learning how to make music videos with no budget, create and format all the artwork for physical products, how to tour for material I never expected to play out, and so on. I remember falling asleep in my office chair, plenty of times. My bedroom in my apartment was the only place for records and merch, and my bed was surrounded, floor to ceiling, with boxes. By the end of that release, we agreed to never to it that way again. It was too much for so few hands.
So we worked with Nettwerk on the remaining albums in the project so we had help with all the logistics.But I kept Bear Machine even while working with other labels just in case. Something I've learned over the past 13 years of putting out albums is that I'm not a very good fit for a lot of the music industry. Everything from the way I like to work, on down to how I perceive value, is mostly at odds. Nettwerk was terribly friendly and full of sweet people, but even so, I found myself missing doing things more myself. I might just be stubborn that way. So once I had wrapped up everything for The Family Tree, I asked my boyfriend, Josh, and my manager if they wanted to team up and expand Bear Machine into something larger. They said yes, so that's what we've done.It's not really a record label in the traditional sense.
It's mostly just things we are all personally involved in making in some way, as opposed to signing artists and marketing them, and a lot of it is instrumental. I listen to tons of instrumental music myself, so I was excited by the prospect of making it, and to help record things I personally cannot play. I also find myself more and more interested in collaborating as I get older, and this all seemed like a good avenue to get my feet wet.Some examples of what we've made so far We produced an entirely improvised album with pianist Michael Sheppard. The way we made it was, Jeremiah and I spent half a day micing up the piano, then Josh and I called out prompts, or images, to improvise about and Michael went to town. Every piece was done in one take. It was really something to watch. Here are some examples.
We have plenty more coming, but it's a start.So Bear Machine is not just a home for my personal projects anymore, though I am involved in all of the albums. Some of them I am just a mix engineer and design the covers, others I am part of from top to bottom. It's been super fun to help make the kind of music I often have on around the house. I know it's not the most popular stuff in the world, but it's fulfilling, and unlike things with my voice involved, I can listen to it when we're done. And it has been giving me so many ideas for my lyric driven work that I would be involved for that alone.So this will also be where my personal projects will live. This re-release of Ghost was a way to help figure out our work flow with a more traditional record and lay some ground work for my next full-length.
But I couldn't help but look back at everything and take stock of all the changes that have happened since I made that album. It's been an odd couple of weeks.I was not doing well when I made Ghost. I started making the album not long after my sister passed away. I was 23 at the time, and my change in outlook was so severe that I didn't know what to do with myself. I was wrestling with mortality in a way I never had before, in a way that would never go back. There were fangs in things I used to believe were harmless, and in hindsight, I was completely unequipped to handle my grief.
Download THE FASHION POLICE HATE ROBOTS by ODD PROJECT free. #1 rated music site. 6.5 Million songs. Get lyrics ♫ music videos for your iPhone®. ODD PROJECT lyrics - 'The Second Hand Stopped' (2004) album, including 'Silver Screen Lovers', 'The Wanderer', 'Photographic Memories'. Download ODD PROJECT music for free. #1 rated music site. 6.5 Million songs. Ellie Goulding. Free Music Downloads #1 Infinity Zoom - must see #2 Amazing. If you still have trouble downloading The second hand stopped zip hosted on mediafire.com (50 MB), RJD2-The Third Hand.zip hosted on mediafire.com 66. I think most people on here think the same about this album. I had heard the song Tear Stained Lies many times before considering this album, so when I do this. Odd project the second hand stopped rar download.
So I turned to art, the way I always have, and started writing. Much of what I wrote found it's way onto Ghost, but at first that writing felt scattered, like it was all just spilling over with no real direction.I developed a theme for the record after exploring a strange old house in Gainesville, Florida, while it was undergoing renovations. I got the offer to wander through it with a flashlight, and it was such a cool experience. The house was once occupied by a circus troupe, had secret doors that led to hidden stairwells, and in the attic I found a box with some old letters inside detailing some kind of love affair with a woman who used to live there. I still remember it all vividly.After that trip, I came home with my theme, which can be summed up in a question: what do we leave behind when move on? I got really absorbed in the idea that everywhere we live, we change in some fundamental way – that these buildings we inhabit as anything more than a guest will be haunted by us in some fashion, be it letters in an attic or stories trapped in the walls.I tracked the album over 9 months in a tool shed behind my family's house, and I just used whatever I had on hand. The instrumentation on that album was partially due to chance.
I used banjo on some tracks because one was found in the garbage. Accordion made appearances because there was one in the music room of the high school I went to, and no one knew who it belonged to, so my brother brought it home. The piano came from one of those “get it out of myself and you can have it for free” ads in a local paper, and it sounded like a haunted house. That tool shed is gone now, and I think that's a good thing, but I made a lot of music in that rickety, leaky building.
I developed hugely as a musician back there, and though I have very mixed feelings about that part of my life, I think of my time in that shed, tinkering away in the middle of the night, fondly.But I'm still surprised by this album and the path that it has taken. When I released it in 2007, it didn't go over well.
The reviews were not very positive, and by most metrics it was a dud. I didn't make any music videos for the album, and even the one for Welcome Home was done as a favor, built from the remnants of an interview by Justin Mitchell. I was already working on the second Electric President record by then, so I just sort of shrugged and moved on. But then, over 3 years after the fact, I was contacted by Nikon with an offer for a commercial. I was happy to earn any money I could at that point, and I was well beyond my fear of being a sell out, so I was perfectly happy for a paycheck and the exposure. But once it started airing, everything just sort of took off. Suddenly people wanted to book shows, particularly in Europe.
I had no plans to tour my solo material, because I was just one guy and some of those songs had tracks counts above a hundred. So I hired two friends to back me up, did whatever arrangements I could for three people, and started playing shows. And people actually came out. Now, 13 years after I started recording some of those songs, people are still listening to them. I guess you never really know.Working on the anniversary recordings for the second vinyl caught me off-guard, though. Music and memory can have such a strong link, and revisiting certain material on the album made me really blue.
I was remembering all kinds of things I'd rather not have. I could see the grief in all those songs even clearer than when I wrote them, and over the month I spent tracking and mixing everything, I was in a sort of fog, and had an abnormal amount of nightmares. I guess I just understand myself a lot better these days, for better or for worse. I'm glad to be finished.But something cool about getting the rights to this album back was that I could finally master it.
The original version was just my mixes, because I screwed up. I took my mixes up to NYC to be mastered, but I learned while sitting in on the session that mastering will not fix things that should have been addressed in the mixing stage. Hearing what I had spent so much time on come through those crazy high-end speakers was kind of embarrassing. Because if anything, the mastering was only making the poor mix choices even more obvious. So I had a decision to make: put out a master I don't like, or keep my mouth shut, remix the album as best I can, and put it out that way. Paying for two masters was out of the question. I chose the latter.
And I still think I made the right choice. But hearing a new master bring out the details in the better mixes was really fun. I don't know how obvious those details are to people who don't obsess over sound in an unhealthy way like I do, but they're pretty striking to me.And then as one last little tidbit among all this reminiscing, I thought I’d go ahead and upload this B-Side from those original Ghost recording sessions. This was one of the tracks that just fell through the cracks, because I was never entirely happy with it.
But it was a fun one to stumble upon after a friend of mine asked about it for one of his skate videos, and I didn’t see it anywhere on youtube, so I am putting it up myself. So yeah, a little rarity for those who are interested. This arrangement was done by my partner, Josh Lee. I played the piano and mixed it, but the rest was all him. Josh has been playing strings most of his life, and it was really cool to hear a version of the song arranged by someone who really knows the instruments.
I think he might have a future in arranging.But yeah, the Anniversary Edition will come out this fall. I’m getting the final word on the vinyl production now. When I have the dates I’ll be sure to post them.Beyond that, I also recently produced an album for someone, and I have begun tracking my next full length, called “Into The Woods”, among other new projects. So there is a lot more to talk about! But I think I have gone on long enough for one post.I hope everyone is well. So I haven’t written in over a year. I’m not surprised, when I stop and look back.I’ve moved a lot these past 4 years — multiple times within the city I grew up in and then across the country, to California.
Moving is inherently chaotic. It forces you to reorganize and not just physically. I’ve had to re-approach the way I think about a lot of aspects of my life. At first, this was overwhelming and I resented it. But now that I have slowed down and found some kind of center again, this re-imagining has become incredibly liberating. Not to imply that moving inherently solves things — it doesn’t, as you drag yourself with you everywhere you go — but all the new context can be a chance to try again. It’s been easier to figure out where I am at, right now, without all the trappings of personal history and misplaced feelings of obligation.
I can observe myself, including all of my bullshit, without needing to justify it. It’s a freedom that is entirely new to me. Strange that is has been sitting next to me all along and I just couldn’t perceive it, but that’s another topic in itself.So why I am writing now? What has changed?
The short answer is simple: I missed it. The long answer is, as always, messier.Lately, I have been thinking a lot about this current era of the internet. I have liked the internet increasingly less over the past 6 or 7 years, in a uniformly downward slope.
From the early 2000’s until around 2013, I felt largely positive about the internet. I had my issues with it, of course, but they were drowned out by innovations and an ever-growing sense of possibility. I can’t pinpoint an exact moment when the scale tipped in the other direction for me, but along the way the cons started outweighing the pros. The internet was creating more and more anxiety, and instead of something I interacted with on my own terms, it began feeling invasive, like it was interrupting my life and throwing me curve-balls I didn’t ask for. I found myself processing things that, when I took a step back and really observed, meant very little to me. And then when I had a lot of personal upheavals around 2015 and my head got scrambled in ways I didn’t know it could, that sense of anxiety compounded wildly. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I started using the internet in almost self-destructive ways, all under some illusion it would distract me or make me feel better.
It’s a very easy trap to fall into.But notice how I only use the word “internet.” This was an issue. Somehow, when all that upheaval happened, a lot of things lost nuance and became conflated. The internet was suddenly all one thing to me. Emails, social media, even a text message or phone call — every form of contact felt the same. It was some combination of attention and harassment that I couldn’t differentiate between. So I gradually stopped engaging. I only posted things online when someone pointed out I probably should, and I didn’t look a the results.
I didn’t want to know.I’ve been peeling a lot of this apart lately. When all forms of digital communication felt the same, they all became irrelevant, or devoid of any sense of purpose beyond “Look at me!” And when you are in a space of not wanting to be observed, they all become harassment. To remedy this, I did an experiment. I tried each of the various methods, one at a time, and observed how I actually felt about them.
And while they all felt different in their ways, the one that stood apart the most — zero contest here — was social media.If you are here and reading this, then I can assume that you are probably aware of what I do. And you might have noticed that I am not on social media much.
When I did my experiment between all the methods of communication (this blog post being the final one), my response to social media was far and away the most negative. To the point where all of the others did not create any anxiety once social media was removed from the equation. It was the sole source, and when it was active, it bled into everything else. But sorting exactly why has taken some time and thought.Here’s where I am at with it There is an inherent dissonance with me and all the social media platforms. I have come to see them as attention-based economies (as opposed to content-based). Posting on social media is inherently asking for attention, and for that to be rated or quantified in some way. I have my feelings about what this means for society at large, but I’m keeping this personal for now.
And personally, I really dislike asking for attention when I have nothing to say. If I am talking about work I’ve completed and would like people to know exists, then I don’t mind posting. I put a lot into anything I make, so it always has something to say built into it. So I don’t mind asking for attention in that scenario.
But that’s not the nature of social media. Since we are the ones creating the content for the platform, it will always be more about quantity than quality.As a working musician, I regularly get asked to be more visible, specifically on Instagram or Facebook. And when I have pushed about exactly why, the answer mostly boils down to this: if you don’t stay constantly visible and aggressively in people’s minds, you will be forgotten, or lost in the shuffle (not to mention that social media is increasingly used as a metric for your value and quality as an artist, and not just your popularity). And my rebuttal to that is, if I am so easily forgotten, then perhaps I’m just not a very effective song-writer. Perhaps people just aren’t interested in what I have to say, or the way I say it.
If I have to post pictures of my food, spam my purchases, or build some highly-edited version of what my day-to-day life looks like just so people will remember that I write songs, then maybe I didn’t do enough to move them. Maybe I’m just not cutting it.I realize how a statement like this might come off. I don’t mean it in a defeatist way. I only put out work that I am happy with, and how much that does or doesn’t resonate with others doesn’t change my sense of personal achievement. It’s interesting to see how it’s received, sure, but it’s not how I personally decide how successful a specific work is. I really just feel like I’m finally getting more honest with myself and where, and how, I like to participate.
I far prefer making music videos, podcasts, and writing in long form. But social media not a place for depth. Even for myself, on the other side of the coin. The rare times I browse around on something like Instagram, I am far more compulsive than thoughtful.
I exercise my thumb way more than my brain. But none of this is in my nature. I like depth. I like walking away with something to think about. I like puzzles. I like searching for connections, and attempting to find the limits of ideas. And I always have.
I don’t like feeling compulsive and distracted. I don’t enjoy spending time thumbing through stuff that I have, at most, a passing interest in and walking away an hour later wondering what the point was, wishing I had read a book, or played a video game, or watched a tv show instead.Or in other words: it’s not for me.But I like this, right here. I like sitting and typing about things that have been on my mind. And I like that when I am done, it will sit on my personal website. It can be visited, but does not shove itself into anyone’s life. I am not pushing my thoughts into the space of unwitting bystanders, but instead inviting people to my mental rummage sale, should they be interested.
And I don’t mind if people comment on it. I encourage it, actually. I have no issues reading and responding to comments under these circumstances, knowing they came here of their own free will and commented because they wanted to. In the same way, I am remembering that I like getting emails from people. I like letters, digital and physical, and how we interact with each other through them.
They are clear channels of communication, words being volleyed between two parties like a game of catch between total strangers. I am realizing how much I prefer talking to people on the phone instead of texting, and how much more I like to get coffee with someone over any of these. And above all, I am remembering that they are not all the same, and I can approach them as I actually am, and I don’t have to conform due to some abstract sense of professional survival. And yes, I could very much be hurting myself or limiting my reach, but I am okay with that. Because I would rather fade away, or have to come up with something entirely new, than do things I don’t believe in for some desperate grab at relevance.But that’s enough for now, I think. I will be writing about my actual work soon, as I have been really busy in the world of recording, mixing, producing, and in developing my own little label/production company.
Radical Face Cleveland
And I am back to working on a full-length record now that I am settled into one place, which is really exciting. It was fun for a change of pace to try some singles and EPs, but it’s not where my heart is. But I also wanted to give myself the space to start writing again. So from here on out, when I just have some ideas that I want to float into the world, for whatever reason, I will label the blog post with a date and the word “Thoughts.” Beyond that, I hope everyone is well.-Ben.
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