While I wait to start mixing the new record, the only thing that seems to make me feel better about the pause in working is writing more songs. So here's a very demo-y demo of a new song I'm working on. Click the pretty red title above and lemme know what you think. xo. Taste of What You Love I was at my sister's house today, we sat out in the yard Watched her little boy play She said "This love will break my heart. How could I ever have thought I knew, knew about life or death?" Sometimes a taste of what you love is all you're gonna get Sometimes it just ain't happened yet I keep a notebook in my shirt I like to carry it around I fill it up with all my words When I can't check out and I can't calm down They published my poem in the paper When I was still full of young breath Sometimes a taste of what you love is all you're gonna get Sometimes it just ain't happened yet Sometimes it feels like the whole of my heart is buried in this town Everyone else went and got a fresh start And I just went home, lookin' down. I'm gonna skip my shift tonight I'm gonna pack what I can't pawn Leave a rose by my sister's porch light By the time she finds it, I'll be gone Cause I just don't know enough, enough about life or death Sometimes a taste of what you love is all you're gonna get Sometimes it just ain't happened yet.
Hi Kiddums! Happy Summer to you. Click above for a cover of the glorious Katy Perry song, "Wide Awake." I recorded it in my piano room at home, so it is a very demo-ish demo. But enjoy it anyway, in all its pop glory.
Someone is taking a scissors to the inside of my throat. I am onstage at a bar in Hollywood and I am standing behind my keyboard and people are ordering drinks and shouting flirty things at each other and having meaningful conversations and I'm singing but I'm sick and things are coming out hoarse and rough. Luckily it's 11pm at a bar on a Tuesday, and the people who are watching don't care that my voice isn't 100% clear as a bell, they're just here to hear music and have fun and bob their heads to my drummer. But I am having a hidden meltdown, wanting to lay down and go to sleep on the stage, wanting to drink ginger tea on my couch, pushing to keep going because my real self loves this more than anything, but my sick self is throwing daggers at me, some of which include "no one cares about you singing up here," and "you don't connect with audiences," and "you're too old for this shit." And I don't know. I don't know who I'm supposed to be up here anymore.
It's terrifying. I play my set, I kick my whisky glass over halfway through and curse at myself, I get off the stage and hack up half my lungs and then smile and chat with people and give some hugs and feel generally like a giant impostor. And then a girl comes up to me, and grabs my arm and says "What is your name?" And I tell her and she says, "I loved your songs. I am going to look you up when I get home."
All it takes is one of these to make all the other stuff seem ridiculous.
I watched this video the other day for the first time, and it blew me away. I hope you guys will watch it, if you ever wonder how artists are going to continue making music when they are no longer getting paid for it the way they used to. Or should I say why they are going to continue. The film is by Levi Weaver, a lovely person and great artist. Thank you, friend. You've said it all.