Sometimes it takes a while to appreciate things.
Clutter isn’t always physical. It’s not always in the form of odd socks and boxes and dirty dishes. Sometimes it’s mental, as well.
For me, the time surrounding the release of my latest album, Take Back the Fire was cluttered.
There were rehearsals, studios, deadlines, websites, updates, crowdfunding perks (knitted SCARVES, scarves, and more scarves!), more social media updates, newsletters, posters, a release concert, tickets, more rehearsals, accounting, and more social media.
As an independent, unsigned musician, I basically had to do the work of the band, agency, label, management – the works. And it can be pretty intense.
I taught myself to build websites, use mailing list platforms, and became my own P.A., drawing up rehearsal schedules and sorting travel logistics. In the meantime I was rearranging music and finishing off song lyrics.
It’s an extremely varied and interesting job, and I really love it. But I think that somewhere in the midst of the hustle and bustle, the joy of the actual music got a little lost. I was so focused on trying to decide whether to resolve a chord progression that I didn’t take time to really appreciate how much I enjoyed playing music that I loved with my friends.
Somehow, we turned the songs in my head into real, tangible tracks, and with the help of the people around me I was able to realise these songs fully. I gained more confidence in in my own ideas and musicianship.
For some reason tonight, I sat alone and listened to the alum. Properly, I mean, for the first time since its release, front to back.
Without deadlines, or promoters, or rehearsals to worry about, I just listened.
I thought to myself, “This is my art, my experience. And it’s exactly as I wanted it to be.”
I probably should have done it sooner – but as an independent artist, the excitement, buzz, and to-do list of an album launch wasn’t something I was prepared for. The production, duplication, bookings, PR – even as a minor league player, I found myself running out of the time and energy required to deal with the stress that ensued.
Because the album came about very suddenly and organically, I had no real plan in place for its release and promotion, and no money in the bank to finance such a huge project.
Thanks to our indiegogo contributors, we raised a lot of funds toward the album’s production, but I was still forced to work for six solid months to earn enough money to cover the rest. And this, too, was stressful and made me resent spending time with the record, somehow.
But this isn’t a post about lessons learned (although lots of lessons were learned). I’m just taking a moment to reflect on the whole process, and . . . to, well . . . enjoy the final product.
For the first time, it’s sinking in: this album could be my (second)* greatest achievement.
I’m glad I was able to revisit to this album and fall in love with it. I’m so impressed with the incredible musicianship of the band and the amazing production (by Russell Cottier and Daniel J. Logan).
Maybe it’s not the most ground-breaking, or the most radio-friendly, or the most profound. You may not even like it all!
But it’s honest, and it’s true to my voice and to the spirit in which each of these songs was written, and I couldn’t be happier.
Now, as I prepare myself to dive straight back into the manic, tangley world that is the unsigned music business (I’ve got a tour to plan!!!), I feel at peace knowing that I’ve been able to take the space and time I needed to appreciate the beauty behind the chaos.
With the help of my friends, I have worked hard to make an album that I am so, so proud of.
It’s the best feeling, to be able to say, “I made this. This is me”.