I’m in my new home in downtown Brooklyn, the beloved Schermerhorn. It’s late 2011, early in my 28th year.
As a musician between projects however, these facts are meaningless as the next record encapsulates my existence, one known by no one.
It’s like running a marathon in the dark, blindly approaching the finish line (but it’s still nowhere in sight) with no idea one last push could help you leer into the light.
Having been composing and recording ‘The Thawing‘ for over a year and performing it live the last 6 months, I’m now in the final steps of the musical process and am experiencing birthing pains…
Mixing my own work turns the artist into a critic: After carefully crafting these creations, lovingly parsing ingredients and highlighting their beauty, I now seek to find their faults and imperfections, putting aside all aesthetic pride and performing a sort of paternal infanticide.
The only solution is to take a smooth arrival for granted: The unveiling is scrupulously analyzed, a date carefully chosen, anticipating my current efforts fruition while urging it’s culmination I plan for when the math turns into music by shooting a video, creating album art: I remember what ‘The Thawing‘ meant to me when it started and forget who I’ve become in the process of production as I return to the innocent core of creation, of baring oneself in a transparent mirror of flesh.
Photo by Nephi Niven
