I had something else written for this but I toasted it. Steve Albini died and that’s been on my mind.
It’s hard to not make these things about oneself. It feels kind of gross actually, taking time to rewrite something about myself to include some perspective from a person of esteem who has passed. I can’t shake it, though. The past day I dived into countless soundbites, interviews, song and albums that the man had his hands on, and I’m reminded that I found a lot of my own learned perspectives dovetailed into his. It felt good to hear a successful, respected creative say the things I know in my heart to be true. I may not prescribe to every single thing he’s said or done (Rapeman?), but I’m also no sycophant. I can think, deduce, decide for myself, and stand on my own two feet. I can mess up, bounce back, speak out of turn, correct course. Let he who is without sin blah blah blah. It’s legit how people heal. As Alanis says, ‘you live, you learn.’
I digress. The Wrong Man is the second song on my most recent album of music, FEARS. It had its start ages ago with its lyrics written for what was going to be a follow up to my second album HEX which got as far as four or five long lost demos. Nothing of the original track remains beyond my memory of the basic melody. For instance, the original intent was to enlist three singers, all who agreed to add their parts. Never happened.
I digress x2. The Wrong Man could be about many things. It could be about a love affair gone wrong. It could be about an unrequited love. It could be political. After all, aren’t all love affairs? In hindsight, my feelings toward the song have changed. I’m gleaning new meaning from the song, the intent. Revisiting Steve Albini’s many opinionated interviews over the years has me digging deeper into my own intent when it comes to the songs I write.
I got to thinking, as I piddle away at these new songs (don’t get me wrong, I’ll be proud of them once they’re done, and I have distance from them - right now, they’re the bane of my existence) ‘would Albini like any of them?’ Then, I rerouted. ‘Why would I care if he liked them?’ At the core of all of us, any conscious person at least, is a little conflicted, vulnerable nugget of want and need who needs and wants to be loved. The tougher row to hoe is barreling through all the outside noise as well as that little inside noise of want and need to get the job done. Do what you came here to do. Shut out the bullshit. Shut out the static. Sure, you can sit and listen to opinion, outside perspective. You can even absorb some of it if it feels right. But at the end of the day, the doorway to your creative self doesn’t have to be saloon doors. That doorway can be shut, and it can be locked. The minute one of those outside noises starts honking its horn about ‘how it’s always been done’ or ‘how it’s being done now’ - well, I think that’s complete and utter horseshit. If you don’t fit into how it’s being done, good for you. You’re on the right path, and you should keep fucking slashing your way on out there. If there’s a ‘need to’ invite more people into how you put your work out into the world when those people are directly connected to a system that is corrupt to its core, well, that’s a virus, no? Hard reboot time.
I started listening to outside voices in the past few months. I’m tired. I ran out of fight. Thus, all my music is up on streaming services. That was my biggest mistake, I think. I diluted what I was simmering down into a wonderful sauce. Hard stop. Virus cleaner time. I may still be tired, the ends are not meeting, but the door is shut and locked again. Just as I was resurfacing, another article laid bare Spotify’s new plans to demolish independent artistry. I felt the good anger coming back up to a boil. At the Violent Femmes show last night I was told I have a ‘cult following.’ I’ll take that compliment because it’s true. There’s no hubris in that, and I’m not in this for the accolades because believe me, those usually come with a dose of the virus or at least a backhand down the road. I am not in this for the money. There is none for small operations like me. The systems are gamed. The old ways serve old men and their sycophants. I am in this to create stuff, to contribute, and to not give a shit about whether or not some old guard so and so likes it.
‘I’ve got a lot of love to give,’ I sing. Joe sings back ‘but you give it to the Wrong Man.’ I have been writing in two voices for a while now, in conversation with myself regardless of who is singing my words. The two voices aren’t arguing, they’re trying to solve the problem at hand. It took acknowledging the fact that I’m cut from the same cloth as Mr. Steve Albini to start giving that love back to the source. Me. You can’t do nothin’ for anyone if you aren’t taking care of yourself. Taking care of your work. That goes for all of us. Take care of your work. I’m not talking about the 9 to 5 here. Fuck that.
Not to make it about me. But kind of.
Thank you for your words, Steve Albini. Thank you for your work.