Journal Update: Recording

Sorry for the lack of updates. I've had work to do while I've had work to do, so that's made me too busy to sit around and be all reflective and type things. It's odd how your perspective of time changes as you get older. I can blink now and a month is gone.


I'm editing vocals. My vocals. It's tedious to say the least, because there is no greater critic of my voice than me. This will be the sixth record I've produced, not counting those garbage Orizon demos from 2003, but it will also be the biggest record I've produced. TCC has an incredible production standard to live up to, and I'm doing my level best to meet it. We started recording this record in January, and it is now April... this is the longest I've ever had to sit on a collection of songs in the recording process. I like this part of it. I have time to dream about what the songs are missing and to try to make them whole.


I'm heading off to Orlando this Saturday to mix the record with an old friend (producer of Albatross, The Silver Cord, and Vagabonds). With the success of our Kickstarter campaign there is even more pressure to make this album good. Having Elvis involved in the project takes a huge weight of my shoulders, as I trust him to always sort out my madness in the most insightful and inspiring ways. 


If you've supported our Kickstarter, you're part of the reason why we can afford a great person like Elvis to mix it. Your dollars are actually going to make our record sound better... it's sort of poetic, and it feels only right. The quality of our art is tied to the quality of our supporters, who happen to be the best quality supporters in the world. So, for the opportunity to make our songs better, I'd like to say THANK YOU.


Can't wait to finish and release these songs!


With love and gratitude,


Matt

Enough

Not enough people tell me my music is good.

Oh, plenty of people say my music means the world to them, but it's never enough. When it's MY music, MY art, MY ego, MY insecurities, MY thirst for peer recognition, respect, and honor, I am never fulfilled and it is never enough.

I was in Minneapolis on the 2007 Tooth and Nail Tour. After the show I went to the merch booth to meet people. I was stopped by one of those really charismatic, on-fire Christians who always seem to be getting "words" for people. Just my luck, he had a word for me, and although I'm naturally a skeptic I agreed to let him pray for me. Couldn't hurt right? He put his big hands around my head like he was about to head-butt me and started praying in tongues (which always creeps me out), while onlookers waited patiently with their unsigned TCC posters in hand. Then he started praying in English, which made me feel a little better about the situation. Turns out he was saying some pretty good stuff.

Afterwords, he looked me straight in the eyes, my head still in his hands, and said, "You are enough because He is enough." I nodded nervously and he said it again, staring more intently, "You are enough because He is enough." 

That echoed in my mind for a long time. Five years later, the "word" he had for me still hits me out of nowhere... I am enough because He is enough.

It's not about me, and when I occasionally remember that I suddenly lose interest in people telling me I'm good. 

I understand that the art I make isn't from me, it flows through me, from somewhere else to somewhere else. I sit down to do the work, but I barely understand how inspiration works let alone the true meaning and influence of any song I've written. I am blessed to enjoy it, and that is enough for me.

It's like having a baby. Sure, it grew in you and then came out of you, but you didn't consciously make it. The child is unique and the miracle of human life is... a miracle. All you did was have sex. All you did was experience a few minutes of pleasure and a miracle happened. Every parent knows they can't take credit for the miracle that is their child.

That's how I feel about songs, especially the ones that end up meaning something to a lot of people. They feel good to write, and the lyrics and concept usually materialize in ten minutes or less. They are things that occur to me, not things I manufacture. I don't write them, they write me. 

If you love my songs and think I'm wise because I write them, then getting to know me in real life would probably disappoint you. I'm messy and inconsistent and foolish and sarcastic and immature. I would encourage you to not seek fulfillment in people, because people will always disappoint you.

For a few minutes a year I am honored with the burden of being a broken tool in the hand of a perfect God whose apparent goal it is to bring some tiny portion of goodness into the world. I couldn't tell you why, and it could all stop tomorrow, but I can tell you that I didn't do anything to deserve it.

It does me no good to seek out credit. Because it isn't rightfully mine, no amount of credit will fulfill me. I am enough because He is enough. I have enough because He gives me enough. I am good because He is good, and I am useless when He doesn't show up.

Nothing this world can offer me will ever be enough.

I am enough because He is enough.

The Secret to Success In Music

This is a post expanding on the subject matter of one I wrote in 2010, titled: "Making It" In The Music Industry."


Lately I've been getting the question. People want to know how to do it, how to make music a career. It's a misguided question, because the truth is that I lack the qualifications to answer it. I do not currently enjoy a career in the music industry. I enjoy a hobby that sometimes pays for itself, but most of the time it accrues thousands of dollars in debt. I'd hardly call that a career, but nonetheless it is the assumption of many that I am privy to knowledge beyond that of the average music hobbyist. 


I was that kid. I remember starting out and believing that nothing could stop us, that our music was this magical, momentous force that would roll perpetually onwards until it penetrated the hearts and minds of the masses. We actually believed that. With delightfully naive hubris we'd suggest to people that if they were nice to us now, we'd remember them when we hit the big time.


Then reality sunk in, and we soon realized it was hard to get shows, hard to get tours, hard to sell records, hard to draw crowds, hard to get signed, hard to pay expenses, and extremely hard to make money.


But we still believed. We believed we could convert every music listener who wasn't already indoctrinated by some hipster-driven fashion-music dogma. We believed we made music for the people. So why weren't we blowing up? We had to be missing something. So we pressed on, like the young bands still do, searching ever so desperately for the Secret to Success.


I remember being 19 and talking to Bobby Darling from Gatsbys American Dream outside of Ground Zero in Bellevue, WA. He was the most successful musician I had ever talked to, and I naively believed he had the Secret. Like he might pull me aside and lower his voice to a whisper, and he might impart some piece of wisdom; a phone number, some information that would help us get signed, rich, famous, noticed, whatever...


Perspective is everything.


I've been on both sides of that coin now, so I'll let you in on a few secrets I've learned since. These aren't really secrets, they're just common sense, but sometimes we can get so deluded that we disregard them altogether.


I want to debunk a myth your supportive parents tell you about the music industry when you're starting out. Don't get me wrong, I'm certain they love you and may even think you're God's gift to Screamo, or whatever genre, but they're wrong about this. Ready for the truth?:


IT IS NOT ABOUT WHO YOU KNOW


Parents and ill-informed managers perpetuate this lie. This is 2011, there is no big mean force standing between you and potential fans... you know all the important "WHO'S" already. Their names are Twitter, Facebook, BandCamp, iTunes, Kickstarter, and a hundred others like them who invite everyone to use their services.


Nobody is going to do you a favor, so do yourself a favor and make the best music you know how to make, that is your best shot at making it. The fairy godmother isn't going to come turn your pumpkin songs into a carriage that you can ride to the ball. You're going to have to carve that pumpkin and carry it yourself.


With social networking and the internet you can connect with fans, market your music, raise money, and distribute your songs all on your own. If you're still looking for a label and you think a label would be right for your band, here's some free advice:

DON'T TRY TO GET SIGNED


Build something that a label wants to invest in. That's all a label is, an investor... they have a million bands to pick from so why should they invest in yours? Where is yours heading? What have you built? Facebook was started by a couple guys leveraging all they had to get it going... they didn't get seed money until it was already national, serving hundreds of thousands of people. If you believe in your music, leverage everything you have and don't expect any hand outs from anyone. Sending demo's to labels is pointless, I know, because I've seen the pile at Tooth and Nail Records... it's depressing to see all those beautifully decorated packages with home-made D1 sheets go to waste. This isn't 1995, it doesn't work like that anymore. Make a name for yourself independently, because if you can't do that, you have no shot of ever getting signed.


IT IS ABOUT THE MUSIC


People ask things like, "Well if it's about the music then how come that sucky band made it big?"


Music is perhaps the most subjective topic on the planet. The truth is there are a lot of people who think that said "sucky bands" music is awesome, and someone at a label saw the earning potential of that band in a certain market, so they got that band on the radio and big tours and dumped a ton of money into that band. You and I might argue that the bands music is crap, but if there's a market for it, that means a significant amount of people like it, and if people like it, that means there's money in it. If you think a major record label went to that band and said, "Hey guys, I know you suck, but we're friends, so I'll dump a half million into you" than you're more than fooling yourself.


Music is your greatest asset.


So many ill-informed bands place too high a value on their equipment, hair/style, choreography, live show, market visibility and production quality. The Song is the magic. The Song is the thing that transcends the tangible and grips the soul. The Song is what spreads like wildfire through iPods and Facebook and at parties and on road trips. The Song is the thing you should spend 99% of your time perfecting before you ever step foot outside of your garage. 


This doesn't mean you break it down into a formula. I believe we all must have a healthy respect for the science of Song (basic principles of structure, key, melody, rhythm), but it's more important to immerse yourself in the art of songwriting. After all, a musician is an artist. Dedicate most of your time to the art. If you're diligent and you spend enough time, and your art is great, it will get noticed.


So when people ask me how to make a career in music I tell them this: Write great songs. Not good ones, great ones. Great ones spread quickly, while good ones are slow movers. If you write great songs, great things will happen. One of them is the simple economic principle of Demand. More and more fans will start turning up at shows and buying your music online. Bigger bands will want you to tour with them because you now draw a crowd. Labels will start calling you when they see how many records you're selling independently. Your need for a secret to success will be obsolete, because suddenly you have demand for your music. Not because someone hooked you up, but because your music is just THAT good!


DON'T BELIEVE THE HYPE


Let me go back again to when I was 19 and starting this band thing. We we're so full of youthful optimism and blind faith, which can be a good thing, but we made a critical error: We believed the hype. All of our family and friends loved our music, so of course we believed that it was perfect. The truth is those songs were good, not great. We had not focused enough time and effort on honing our craft, we simply followed inspiration down the rabbit hole and whatever we experienced became set in stone. This is typical of young writers. We get praise for everything we do because we are precocious, and we start to think that everything we do is great.


I think this is partially because we are so insecure. We're either inflated with ego or self-loathing, without much in-between. We're always viciously attacking or defending ourselves. A great artist says no to inspiration as much as they say yes. It's about knowing what is good and what isn't, and that often takes time and maturity. It's rare that someone can write a great song on natural talent alone, elements of greatness will be there with true natural talent, but it won't be complete. There is a certain amount of learned skill and experience required in order for the artist to say no to the cheap stuff and yes to the good stuff. A healthy sense of humility is good, and that's hard to find in the young and stubborn.


There are a lot of things that go into a successful career in music, some of which I may never understand. Is there luck? Sure. Intangibles? Yup. Often times you don't choose your band or musical background, you can't control chemistry and I don't care who you are, you NEVER have the corner on inspiration. So take all my advice with a grain of salt. Not everyone is cut out to do music full-time, and that may be the simple fact for many reading this.


With that said, I'll say that if there is one secret that is a non-secret it is this: Persistence.


Call it willpower, perseverance, determination, tenacity, resolve, whatever... we had it. The main reason we got as far as we did is because of our unwavering belief in our dream. 


By now you may realize that I don't believe in a "Secret to Success," but if there is one "non-secret" that I believe is more important than the rest, it has to be Persistence.


“Anybody who tells you to have a fall back plan are people who had a fallback plan, didn’t follow their dreams, and don’t want you to either.” - John Mayer

Reflection for Direction

Something happened to me on stage at the Showbox Market in Seattle on April 6th, 2010. Something that I don't want to ever happen again.


I wrote most of the of the lyrics to our album Vagabonds in 2009, which was a positive year for me. It was the year that I let go of my desires to have more - more respect, money, recognition, fame, etc... essentially what every guy in a band wants. 


Lots of the dynamics of our band and our musical careers were changing, and I simply decided to give up stressing out about it. It was freeing, and a lot of the lyrics on Vagabonds were written out of that sense of freedom.


But something happened on stage in April 2010, the night our CD was released. I knew going into the show that our band wasn't fully practiced and on the same page with the new songs, but generally speaking that never stopped us from performing well before. We could always fall back on the emotional energy of our live show, lock in with each other and pull it together.


The new songs relied less on the wall-of-sound-energy that many of our older songs did, and relied on more of a joyful, whimsical energy - one that's hard to fake. No matter how happy you are, you can always direct any residual stress, anxiety, or emotional anguish into a song that tackles big savory issues like the meaning of life... but it's really, really hard to fake happy songs when you're not happy.


As a band, it was clear that we were not happy. We weren't together, unified, invested in the music, and how could we be? The writing process for the record resembled at best a lack of unified enthusiasm. To put it simply: we got jaded. I remember looking around at my bandmates on stage and feeling contempt. Not for them per say, because they were feeling the exact same thing I was, but I felt disgusted by our lack of energy. It was like we lacked the integrity to believe in the words of the songs we played. We were just going through the motions. I'd felt like this a few times in performances leading up to this show, but this was a home show, where our crowd was the most supportive. It was our CD Release Show and we couldn't even pull it together for them. 


I felt sick. I hated every word to every song. I didn't want to be in a band that made me feel like this. I couldn't talk to anyone after the show. I couldn't go out and celebrate the release of our record afterwards. I went straight to bed. 


Then we went on tour, and it got worse. Whatever happened on stage that night kickstarted a long, grinding period of hopelessness, and you may remember some pretty depressing blog posts I wrote from the road that year. Sorry for that... sometimes life sucks.


A couple weeks ago we were able to fully redeem ourselves on stage at The Showbox Market. We played old and new songs and we embraced them all, diving headfirst into the energy that inspired them to be written in the first place. Time apparently had set us straight, and I honestly believe we played our best show in years, to one of our smallest crowds in years (at the Showbox), that Friday night on July 29th, 2011.


It inspired me because I think I learned to accept where we've been and embrace where we are going. I can't deny the past and I can't force the future. My focus on our next record will be to capture the energy that comes from not only loving, but living the music we create. Music made and played with integrity is good music. I'm in a mental state now where I can play A Perfect Voice, Vagabonds, and Four Chords and mean them again, and they feel and sound better when we play them with the same positive energy that wrote them.


I can see the new record start to take shape, and I can see already a huge progress in our collaborative effort. We're writing together more, and enjoying the songs we're playing. There are stressful moments, but no good album was ever made without them.


I can say that I never want to feel contempt for my music or my band again. I don't want to half-ass the calling we have. I don't want to give less energy to it than it requires. I don't want to hate what I create. I do this because I love it, and if I some day I stop loving it, well, I'll spare you the disappointment and hang up my tour boots. I won't cry. I'll just wave goodbye and say thanks.


But for now LP4 is in the slow-cooker, and I think it's going to taste great.

The Record

I've been agitated lately. Ornery. I can work myself into a frenzy doing absolutely nothing. I feel a weight on my mind, and with it comes these pangs of doubt and worry and regret. These days I can find a way to stress and wonder and plan and curse my plans through any distraction I impose upon myself. This is all of course because it is time again to write.


It is time to write a record.


Record. Thats a funny word to still use as a noun, especially since we've never done a vinyl pressing. Alas, the word "Record" is still the current industry standard for the daunting and tumultuous journey I am about to embark on. Do I sound like I'm complaining? Sorry. Like I said I've been agitated lately.


My Dad is a bit of a genius nut. He has cycles, ups and downs, much more dramatic than most people. You could probably call him slightly manic, although he'd probably deny it as he most likely remains unmedicated. Sometimes I think I may have chipped a bit off of that old crazy block. Although in most ways I'm not like my Dad at all (he hasn't an artistic blood cell in his body), I think sometimes I can act like him emotionally. Which is scary. I'd like to think of myself as emotionally adapted, an advanced communicator, a relational problem solver... but really, deep down I'm just a nut. I smiled just now when I typed that. Honesty feels good.


Maybe it has to do with stress. I feel this thing that I have to conquer is in front of me, and I feel very alone on the battlefield. It's easy to blame my band mates for lack of interest, drive, growth... talent. And maybe they can shoulder some of the blame, but the sad thing is I can't sling any of that mud without getting a significant amount of it all over myself. I'm not as driven as I could be, as talented as I should be. I feel this thing that I have to conquer is in front of me and I am not good enough to conquer it. This is new for me. Talk to me five years ago and I would have said to you in confidence, "I would love to do so many things, but I feel really limited because of the band and our current style of music." Talk to me now, I have a HUNDRED places I could steer this ship and I feel like my arms are cut off. I CANT STEER. What happened to my vision? What happened to my confidence? I suddenly have all the freedom in the world to seize what ever lies ahead and I have this terrible feeling that I'm really not good enough to see it come to fruition. Is that truth? Well, from a spiritual standpoint I am enough because He who is in me is enough. Perhaps I'm not relying on that. However, what if it is true? What if I'm a connector, someone who brings all the geniuses together in one room and milks their minds of the good ideas - and then with that milk I make a milkshake that blows minds? Maybe my mind doesn't have the best milk. This could also be true.


It's funny, one moment you're on the road in a band thinking, "Man, what we could do if these guys let me," and then you're at home going, "WHAT AM I GONNA DO WITHOUT THESE GUYS?!"


And no, our band isn't breaking up. Not just yet. See the "Seven-Year-Itch" post for the prequel to this one. Long story short things aren't like they used to be, and we can no longer afford to have five full time members in our band. Which leaves me, the one full time member, to try to find time to write with the part-timers.


So back to my crazy Dad and how I think I have genetically inherited a similar cycle. If I am not surrounded by inspired, passionate people, this is the only way I create: Self destruction, creative inspiration, complacency, self destruction, creative inspiration, complacency... you get the picture. 


To simplify: Destruction-Creation-Boredom rinse, repeat.


It is so stereotypical it makes me sick. Artists and their mini-meltdowns, their flare for the dramatic. Yuck. Not me right? I'm different right? Maybe not...


Let me tell you though, I've got big plans for this next record. I have demos and I have plans. These plans will be hard to achieve. I'm just so terrified of putting out something that I'm not 100% proud of, I want to do it right. I want the right people involved, the right vibe, for the right reasons. This is a lot of think and to pray about. We could use your prayers too, if you're the praying type of person. I need wisdom for how to move forward, faith that no matter the outcome it will be Good (with a capital G), and inspiration for the times when the thought of this work sucks all the creativity out me.


For those of you long-standing blog followers, I probably sound like a broken record. There's that word again. For those of you who are newer, you can read similar sentiments in post from a few years ago called "Tapering."

The Benefit of the Doubt

The principle we read about in Matthew 7, the 'Golden Rule' so to speak, is that if you expect people to have grace for you - to give you the benefit of the doubt - then you must do the same for others. This is a virtue that is rare in our culture. The way I see it, we are pretty quick to judge, convict and even demonize people who don't line up exactly to our expectations, and we do it with such a subjective perception of their behavior or performance. From the far left everyone looks like Wesboro Baptists, and from the far right everyone looks like Hitler. We try so hard to paint a grey world black and white, or blue and red, and we rarely try to understand people or find the good in them. We rarely attempt to give people the benefit of the doubt.


We pass a homeless man on the street and we justify NOT giving him something. We say, "Well, he'll just spend this on drugs or booze, so I'm doing him a favor." We keep for ourselves the benefit of the doubt. It makes us feel better, it gives us a smug reason to remain indifferent. There's ways around that doubt, like offering food, but we're satisfied with our own judgement. We quickly "judge-jury-executioner" the poor guy and go on our merry way. 


I've always tried to be incredibly nice to fans of our band because I know this to be true: If you're nice to someone they'll tell one person about you, but if you're rude, mean or even withdrawn, they'll tell a hundred. They'll tell a hundred people about what a jerk you are. I've heard numerous stories from people saying "I heard so-and-so is a major asshole," and then I meet that person and they turn out to be one of the sweetest, kindest people I've ever met. Maybe on the day they walked passed the alleged "victim" they were in a funk, maybe sick, maybe sad. Whatever it is, it's always inescapably perceived as "Jerk." We rarely give them the benefit of the doubt.


Have you ever met a celebrity? Has he/she walked passed you, eyes to the ground, perhaps trying to avoid you? Or maybe they've even been short with you? What is your natural response to this? What's the first thing someone asks you when you say you've met someone "important"? It's always either "Was he cool?" or "Was he a jerk?" The Jerk stories spread like wildfire. We love to spread negativity and we rarely give people, especially those "important" types of people, the benefit of the doubt.


I've encountered this with live music A LOT. People go to see a band and snap judge whether or not the band is "good live" off of one show. They don't take into account the venue's sound equipment and lights, the sound engineer, or the fact that the band hasn't had a day off in two weeks, or the fact that they drove over night 12 hours to be there and didn't sleep, or the fact that the singer lost his voice singing for people like you because he didn't want to cancel the show and upset everyone (COUGH COUGH). People withhold the benefit of the doubt. They reserve it for themselves without ever giving it out. What's even worse is that they make these judgement calls about live performances by watching cell-phone recorded YouTube videos! It baffles me. I can truthfully say that as a band we've had a lot of great performances and a handful of bad ones, but because negativity spreads faster, the bad ones always tend to make their way in some video form to YouTube, where of course they get more plays, and somehow happen to be better quality than the good ones. The critics always tend to lack any unbiased sympathy. They make their mind up quickly, withholding any benefit of the doubt.


People have told me certain bands I've toured with are "terrible live" when I know for a fact that they aren't, because I've personally watched 30 of their shows and 29 of them were incredible. Musicians aren't invincible, they're human, and bands on our level don't have the big money production to fall back on. We're exposed, which it's awesome when we're great, and terrible when we're not. The benefit of the doubt is something I've rarely experienced in this area. Everyone is a music critic with a strong opinion even if it's the most uninformed, ignorant and subjective opinion one could hold. Sweeping statements are never true (I realize that in itself is a sweeping statement), not just about music but about anything. Nothing human is all good or all bad, and there are redeeming qualities in every human experience. The world isn't black and white. People are flawed and ugly and beautiful and good. The world is grey, and we must give the "white" in everyone a chance. We must attempt to give people the benefit of the doubt.


Mother Teresa was a person who truly gave people the benefit of the doubt. She understood what Jesus was saying in Matthew 7. She understood that regardless of the possibility of a negative outcome one must still choose to do the right thing. She puts it beautifully in this commission she wrote entitled "Love Them Anyway":

People are unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered.
Love them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.
Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and true enemies.
Succeed anyway.

The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.
Be good anyway.

Honesty and frankness will make you vulnerable.
Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.
Build anyway.

People need help, but may attack you if you try to help them.
Help them anyway.

In the final analysis, it is between you and God.
It was never between you and them anyway.

-Mother Teresa

Hats

I've never been very good at public relations. I think it's because I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve, which usually means I'm not very good at smiling and taking it on the chin. Sometimes I can let my emotions get the best of me. Occasionally I'll be a brilliant actor, playing the exact role that will win fans and friends, but it's a veneer that wears off quickly, and sooner or later I'm back to my blatantly honest and sometimes disturbing self. I wear a lot of hats. I'm an artist, an entertainer, a business owner and a husband, to name a few, not to mention I profess to follow the teachings of Jesus while being all of these things. It can get difficult to know which hat to wear when, and more importantly how to change them. With every hat there are certain expectations, certain pressures and obligations that people place on you.


As an artist I'm called to remain true to my art. To seek out the best conditions in which music is inspired. Unfortunately, many of those conditions can be destructive to my role as a husband, because they often include emotional withdrawal and seclusion. The best artists, I've always felt, tend to maintain a considerable amount of pain and suffering in their lives... either that are they are true empaths who can feel and communicate the pain of others in a real way. The problem with self destructive, 'tortured artist' behavior is that it can be damaging to my faith as well as the relationships I have with other people. But aren't the best Psalms the ones of longing? Don't we relate best to the sadness that comes from distance from God? Or is that just me? These are things I struggle with. These are the "hats" I try to manage.


As a husband I'm called to be there for my wife, to be a leader in our relationship, an ear that will listen and a heart that will pray. I want to serve her, to be a solid foundation for her to be able to grow. Can I do that while withdrawing from society and isolating my heart to write more honestly? Playing the role of husband does not lend itself kindly to playing the role of artist, and it's hard to know when to switch hats. The tricky thing is that the artist hat comes whenever it wants while the husband hat is always firmly around my head. How do you balance inspiration when it's distracting you from your primary human relationship? I'm sure everyone struggles with managing different hats, these are just a few of mine.


Occasionally I will look at great artists who live depressing yet inspired lives and I want, if only for a second, what they have. But then I remember that what I have is what THEY want. I have happiness. I am blessed beyond belief. Still sometimes, somewhere deep inside me, I'll feel this nagging need to self-destruct, to ruin the beauty of what I have in order to discover the 'true inspiration' that they've discovered. Silly right? I know, it's stupid.


If you read this blog, you've probably heard me grumble about how hard it is to reconcile the artist hat with the entertainer hat. Although the two are fraternal twins when it comes to being a musician in a band, they come with very opposite obligations. The artist is a sincere, emotional thinker and the entertainer is an aerobics instructor, a facade, a projection of true inspiration. We as musicians are expected to be excellent at both. But night in and night out it can get hard to fake it, to be the entertainer, the one responsible for everyones good time. It can tend to come off trite and insincere, and that bothers me deeply. Insincerity is my biggest pet peeve. It even beats picky eaters.


As a business owner I'm responsible for the growth of my company. The Classic Crime is a brand, after all, and I need to market that brand in a fashionable and alluring way. I am terrible at this. Music will not be heard without the industry so money has to exchange hands, and there is a lot of pressure on the business owner to move units, to promote the brand and to expand. If I could take one hat off for good, it would be this one. I've never received one ounce of joy when it comes to the numbers. I hate numbers. I hate that they can tend to dictate the direction of art. I hate that they can dance around in the back of my mind when I'm compiling an album. "Will this sell?" They ask. "Is this commercially viable?" Numbers are at odds with the creation of true art. They are adverse to sincerity. Numbers are pro-industry, but in opposition to honest art.


All that said, I'll admit that I don't have an ounce of inspiration outside of God blessing me with it, and I know that. None of my music is in my control. My art is connected with God, it is spiritual, and tomorrow if the melodies and lines leave my mind for good it will be because God saw fit. I'm not a proud man in this sense, I think that anybody is capable of being ten times the artist I am if God chooses to use you. I guess I just long for those sacred moments where true music is created without bias, secular or spiritual (and yes I think God inspires songs that aren't at all about Him). It is never enough, once you feel that glow, that spark of inspiration, you're instantly hungry for more. I am not satisfied with what I've played a part in creating, and I hope I can figure out this hat issue long enough to play a role in creating much, much more.

The Seven-Year-Itch

They say married people tend to get restless at around the seven year mark. Apparently that's when the honeymoon is officially over for everyone. Sadly, too many couples are inclined to become unfaithful with each other because of this restlessness, and it comes at the cost of their marriage and well-being. I don't necessarily believe this for my marriage, because I'm inclined to believe we have something unique both situationally and relationship-wise, something that will hopefully keep us going to around the 70-year-itch mark. However, I've been feeling something of this restlessness in regards to the music/band portion of my life.


I've often viewed my band as a marriage between five people. In order for us to maintain a healthy band, we all have to put in equal work and maintain a high level of commitment. We have to strive together for common goals. We have to want the same things and work towards those goals. This is not unlike a healthy marriage. If one person isn't pulling their weight it throws the whole dynamic off-balance. When we're off balance we lose focus, start playing the blame game, get bitter, and ultimately stop striving towards those goals we once had in common. Being in a band has taught me a lot about compromise, patience and biting my tongue... all of which have proved extremely helpful in maintaining a healthy marriage. 


The Classic Crime formed in late February of 2003. We are currently in our seventh year of writing and playing songs together. Our lives up until this point have been defined by this single task. We've hoped and celebrated and struggled and fought through situations together without even one member change. We formed under the common goal that we felt this was our calling, and that we would do this until we just couldn't any more. I think our dedication and passion at the beginning are almost entirely to credit for how long we've stuck this out together. It was everyone-all-in with equal share and responsibility, with hopes that if we invested ourselves fully that the best lay ahead of us. Each of us took ownership of our music and the process. We dropped out of school and worked part time jobs so we could practice daily. We spent our time writing and re-writing, demoing, gigging, struggling like every local band does. When we were with friends we'd have guitars and play songs, we'd spend hours every night just free-styling music. It wasn't a chore, or a job, it was what we loved to do so we lived it. I can honestly say that without that passion and love for music there is absolutely no chance that I'd be sitting in a van right now with the same five guys. You'd be hard pressed to find a five-piece band in this day and age that has made it this far fully intact. We are fully intact, but it feels as though the glue is wearing out. Maybe it's that seven-year-itch.


Albatross didn't really take us to the level we'd hoped, and neither did The Silver Cord, or Vagabonds. I've always believed we are blessed to do this, but you can imagine the daunting task of setting your hopes high just to have them fall short time and again can be wearing on your senses. We have all lived in poverty for these seven years, and I've watched the steady decline of hope in my band mates. First goes hope, then joy. People get less and less excited for shows and tours and songs we're writing, because the chances that it will change our situation are slim. We no longer hope for the best because we no longer want to get crushed. We preempt disappointment with lower standards. We reassure ourselves that everything will go terribly wrong in the off chance it doesn't and we're pleasantly surprised. If that sounds depressing it's because it is. It's no way to live.


Somewhere along the way a trend set in. Something clicked, and my band-mates started slowly divesting in our music and our goals as a band, and started investing in their plan B's. I don't blame them, it's only wise to have a back-up plan when you look at how record sales are trending these days. So they started picking up steadier jobs and going back to school, accruing more monthly bills to try to maintain some semblance of normal life. Because of these things we tour less, practice less, and we rarely write songs with all of us in one room. I can tell they still care about our band and our fans, but they do at less of a capacity because of their other investments and obligations.


The more they divest the more I have to invest. But sadly, I can't do it all. I still believe that music is my calling, and I won't go chase down the comforts of civil life at the cost of my purpose. Because of this I became responsible for writing and demoing 80% of The Silver Cord and 90% of Vagabonds. I don't like the extra responsibility, I actually prefer everyones input, I prefer the "everyone-all-in" mentality more, but the show must go on, and the bulk of the work-load in the last few years has rested on my shoulders. Somewhere along the way this became a job. It feels like the flare and the excitement are limited to tracking new music, and the rest just boils down to business. It's less "let's take on the world together" and more "I hope Matt writes a hit so I can quit my day job." 


I know that may sound snide, but the truth is this marriage isn't as healthy as it once was. The hope is gone. You could ask the majority of my band members and they would tell you, "If it happens it happens, if not, well, at least I have a back up plan." And I don't blame them at all. I have no bitterness. I've had that feeling before as well, but now I have this itch to create, move, grow, expand. I have no backup plan. 


I've been itching for the passion we once had, the excitement that comes with be a part of something greater than yourself. I don't want a solo project, because it can only be as good as myself... I want to be a part of something where everyone brings 100%. Maybe it's TCC, maybe it isn't.


Maybe this is the Seven-Year-Itch. I can't tell you what will come of scratching it, maybe we just make a great record with TCC, everyone-all-in. In our down time I've been producing and writing music with people who do it because they love it, and it's inspiring... I long to be surrounded with people who don't see music as a chore or a Plan B. People who make music because it makes them feel alive, not because it's expected of them. Maybe we can tap into that again. I hope so.


I don't know if the honeymoon is officially over for us, or if it's a seven year cycle and we're entering a new, better one. What I know for sure is that if I'm going to make music I want it to make it with people who are as dedicated as I am to not only the finished product but to the calling on their lives.

I Like The Old Stuff Better

Hindsight isn't 20/20 all the time. In fact, I'd venture to say that most of us are inclined to remember favorable memories over less favorable ones. Every generation thinks theirs was better in some form, and that this new more progressive generation is missing out on or overlooking that goodness in some way. For some reason we tend to fawn over the "good old days," embellishing our memories to make us feel some sense of euphoric nostalgia. Maybe that's why we do it, the opiate receptors in our brains start drinking up all that manufactured euphoria and it makes us feel good, or maybe it's a way of escaping dire circumstances in the present. Whatever the reason, we all tend to long for better days.


I read somewhere that most people live in the past or the future, meaning that they are either constantly thinking about what has happened or about what is to come. People rarely spend time focusing on the present, the here-and-now,  the only thing that we truly have some semblance of control over. I suppose as humans we have a love/hate relationship with time. Time is mystical in that everything is bound to it. We can't escape it. Everything is born and then it dies. Maybe all the anxiety and nostalgia is a result of our longing to overcome the restrictions time places on us. We long to catch a glimpse of the future, or to go back and erase a mistake, to do something differently. The point is all we really have control over is this very moment, everything else is just a regret, nostalgia or a petty, restricted attempt to plan for the unknown.


I struggle with this sometimes. I'll catch my subconscious hinting things like; Life was easier a few years ago. Was I better back then? Has my talent peaked? And then those thoughts turn to regret; I should have done that differently, it's too late now... And then I turn on the future; Things aren't progressing like I expected... where will I be in a few years? Is what I'm doing ever really going to pay off? 


The past is where our nostalgia lives, our embellished memories, but the future is where our fears live. Maybe that's because the past has happened, it wont change, and now that we know what happened we can manipulate it a bit to make ourselves feel good about it. We have some small amount of control over how we choose to remember the past. But the future, well, we just don't know... we can't. In the future anything could happen, and so our fears and anxieties automatically pull us towards the worst-case-scenarios.


I think people are resistant to new things because they have an embellished memory of the old things. I find this in music a lot. "I like their old stuff better" is probably the line I hear the most when inquiring about a popular bands new album. In some cases the old stuff is better, but in a lot of cases I find that the memories tied to the old stuff are playing a huge role in the listeners rating of the new stuff. For instance, every time The Classic Crime puts out an album we get an influx of the typical "Not what I expected" comments, which is natural I believe, due to the fact that the new songs don't come pre-loaded with memories and nostalgia. They don't have the same emotional weight as the older songs yet. But then people start listening, they start connecting emotionally, they play the album over and over and relate at different times to different songs. They create memories that carry emotional value and suddenly, the new album holds a special place in their heart. And then we put out another album and the process repeats itself. "Not what I expected, I like the old stuff better."


Music has a lot to do with nostalgia and emotional memories, you can have a spiritual experience with it but sometimes it just takes a certain amount of time to gain that ground. I found that out when Jimmy Eat World came out with Futures. I graduated in 2001 and JEW's Bleed American played a huge role in the memories I created in my last year at Lynden High School, so naturally I was excited for the next chapter in my relationship with the bands music. I was not initially as impressed as I'd expected to be, but due to the fact that I trusted the band I listened to Futures more and more. A decade later I can't tell you which record I like better. I love them both for a lot of different reasons. It took time for Futures to build the same emotional value as the first record, and now that so much time has gone by they seem to have equal value. I have made so many memories over time with both records.


In some cases time gains us a better perspective on the tough things. We can look at outcomes to difficult moments and say "It was worth it" or "It wasn't" based on the fact that we are no longer in the midst of that emotional struggle and we can objectively discern it's implications. Nostalgia however, becomes stronger with time, and entire industries are built on it. People want the "Good old days," as we choose remember them, because when the present seems monotonous and bleak we play a montage in our head of all of our favorite memories and somehow it comforts us. What we should be doing is giving the present a chance. We should spend some time in the here-and-now, accepting current circumstances, trends, and music for what they are. We should do what we were doing in that old montage, not worrying about the future or longing for the past, but just living for each moment. This is where the best memories are made.


PS - I honestly just thought "My old blogs are way better..."

Artists Aren't Politicians

Part of the appeal of music is the idea that somebody can supernaturally speak to your soul. We idolize our favorite musicians, pining after their every creation as if they have the ability to communicate on a higher level than others in their field. I think as a culture, as a race, we love fantasy. We love magic and fairy tales, and music has the ability to fall into any or all those categories. It strikes the similar mystical chord within us. We don't want to believe that these people (these favored musicians of ours) are on the same playing field as the rest of us. We want to believe they're playing a whole different game, on a whole different plane, and that we're just catching a glimpse of what they've seen. They're somehow more cognizant, more aware, more in tune with the metaphysical. They are like prophets and we scramble to hear their words, to be moved by their musings and melodies, to receive the message we otherwise could not have heard. The message of most importance. 


We treat them like prophets, these favored musicians, but just like the prophets of old we stone them when they say the things we don't want to hear. Our fickle culture which tends to move quickly from one emotional extreme to the next seems to lack the loyalty and wisdom to hear something unexpected, critical or challenging. In a world where instant gratification is god, digging for food is too burdensome for most and can even incite contempt in a few. Not only do we write these prophets off when they deviate from our expectations, we can quickly write off and discard what was once deemed by us as profound. 


I wonder why this is? I do it all the time. The music I envied ten years ago is music I'm sometimes embarrassed to admit I listened to. Perhaps it's because we attach ourselves so tightly to Status, whose standards are set by Culture, which is driven in a big way by Trend through Media. The music I liked is no longer trendy. Of course, there are some things that appealed to me in my younger state that no longer speak to me as an adult simply because they lack the maturity and depth I now crave, but most of the time I've grown out of things primarily because they became cliche, overdone, and out of fashion. I need growth, progression and challenge to stay interested.


Some people are the opposite. They like what they liked when they were in their younger, more hormonal state. Music meant more back then, when the hair on your arms and neck would stand up and a feeling of euphoria would wash over you at the hint of a decent melody. Nostalgia takes over, and they attach it to the music. If the music was the same now as it was back then, maybe it would have the same effect, but alas, it's out of style and there are only figments of it left in it's modern counterparts.


I think the truth lies somewhere in between. I agree that when I was younger I was much more impressionable, and that music had a way of moving me to a degree that it rarely does these days. I also think that good music in the mainstream is harder to find. I mean good, emotional, meaningful music. Trend drives so much of what we hear, and often times the music is creative but the lyrics are too shallow or too obscure for us to relate on that deeper level. It's cool sounding, we're supposed to like it, but it doesn't really move us at our core. Musicians are playing the Trend game all too often to appeal to the masses, or even the niches. 


The fact is musicians aren't politicians. Art should not be dictated by Media or Trend. Art should be free from contamination. Art needs integrity to be true art. The second an artist starts listening to his critics is the second he loses perspective, gives in, and starts becoming less effective. But it's a two-way street. We as listeners shouldn't stone our prophets. We should not assume they will create what we want them to create in the exact way that we expect. We should not assume that they listen to our comments and criticisms, because if we assume that then we also have to assume that they are fake artists. If they do what they do to please us then they are nothing more than politicians. Support those who create art you identify with and they will continue to create. Turn on them for creating something unexpected and they may be forced into silence without to resources to publish what they create.


Not everyone will understand every piece of art that an artist creates, but if the artist is good, someone will identify with all of them. The reason we loved our favored artists and musicians is because they didn't sound like everyone else, they trail-blazed with something that contained more substance than their counterparts. We should not chastise them for taking paths we do not understand. We should not stone our prophets, we should hear them out. I hated Brand New's Deja Entendu the first three times I heard it. Now it's in my top ten of all time. I didn't expect it, but it doesn't mean it's not completely genius. How many painters were ridiculed in their lifetimes, only to be discovered as prolific, creative masters after their deaths? The answer is too many to count. 


For you artists out there, aspiring or veteran, I implore you to be independently creative regardless of what people think. Do not place your validity in the opinions of the layman. Even if 9/10 misunderstand you, remember these words: 

It doesn’t matter how many people don’t get it. What matters is how many people do.

Living the Dream

Last night I dreamt I wrote this blog post. 


I awoke from a dream where I survived a firing squad. A group of us were in a parking garage that opened to an adjacent alley. We all had guns (in my dreams, we always have guns) but we knew we were no match for the turrets on the trucks coming down the alley. The trucks drove up and aimed their guns at us, and at the last second I dove behind a pillar which shielded the machine gun fire. Everyone was slaughtered, shot to death, except for me. My heart raced as I stood still behind the pillar, a few seconds of silence passed. Did they see me? I held my breath until finally I heard the vehicles drive away. Then I woke up.


I love dreams because they are sometimes so analogous to reality. I love to dissect their meaning. Yes, I am one of those people who believe that dreams can have meanings. This dream made me think.


A few years ago as our band was finally getting off the ground we were filled with extremely high hopes. There was quite a bit of hype, and we had set our goals far beyond what was average for most bands at the time. I remember having dreams back then, flying dreams. I would be on a hill and the wind would pick up, and I would run with it and jump, hover, and slowly take flight. I would sore into the air with my dad and my brothers below me, yelling after me. They would be angry and want me to come down, but I wouldn't. I think they were mad because my choice to drop out of school and be a musician was different than theirs, different from what was expected of me, and maybe they were jealous of my 'success' with it. Who knows, but those were fun dreams. The thing about those dreams is that they were spawned from high hopes and expectations. They weren't real. Our band never really flew. My life didn't take off like I expected it to.


Since then I've had plenty of dreams, some of them quite anxious. You know the ones where you're running from something, but you can't seem to run fast enough? Your legs feel sluggish and you cant escape. It takes everything for you to be able to put one foot in front of the other. You're desperate at first, and then you're stuck with the sinking feeling of complete dread. Or how about those angry dreams, where you're punching someone in the face, or shooting them, but nothing is happening. Their face bounces back like the head of a blow up doll and they're completely unfazed. 


When life is looking up, my dreams are like an action adventure movie and I am the star. In one dream I saved my wife from a T-Rex. I took it out with a pistol. No big deal. When my life is characterized by anxiety, I tend to have falling or running dreams.


This dream last night, however, left me with mixed emotions. It left me with a mix of anxiety and relief. Yeah, I just got shot at and everyone around me died, but I was grateful I was alive. I felt blessed. I didn't fly or save my wife from a vicious T-Rex, but I still felt a sense of peace and accomplishment. Thinking about it last night, the parallels of the dream with my life seemed pretty striking.


I do feel blessed to be alive. Our band has been through a lot of ups and downs, probably more downs than ups considering our expectations were much higher, but I've come to a point of acceptance with my life. I feel like we've turned a corner, survived the firing squad and will live to see another day. No I didn't kill a T-Rex or take off flying, making everyone who doubted me jealous, but I am completely at peace with that.


Living the dream is as much about the work as it is the reward. I set out after the reward and in the process, through the struggle, I found what the dream was really about. One cannot be fulfilled by receiving the reward of another mans work. You must live your own dreams, built on your own blood, sweat, and tears. Only then and by the grace of God does a sense of purpose and fulfillment arise. Hope in the lottery is hopelessness. There is no replacement for hard work.


I remember when Albatross didn't sell as many copies as expected. We'd drawn the wrong lottery number. I remember the hopelessness and the doubt. Will we be able to write anything like that again? From the depths of that struggle The Silver Cord was born, a record that communicates and articulates intense emotional stress and longing. I am extremely proud of it to this day. I sometimes wonder, "What if Albatross had met our expectations?" I think we would have tried to write it again, because 'if it ain't broke don't fix it' right? The Silver Cord would have never happened. Correspondingly, had we struck gold with The Silver Cord we might have chased that dark sound into the mathematical caverns of prog-rock and never surfaced, but we didn't. We went back to the drawing board and wrote Vagabonds, and I love it. If anything but this album was coming out next I feel like I would be disappointed. It is exactly where I want to be musically. Regardless of success, I feel like we've found our musical identity on this record. The funny thing is we recorded it in three weeks, nearly half the time it took to record our two previous full lengths. There was almost no stress in the process, it just came natural. We weren't trying to chase some commercial success of the past (there is none) and we weren't worried about creating any in the future. We were making music for musics' sake. We finally stopped caring about the nonsense that is our industry. 


And then suddenly, I have peace.


I live the dream everyday. Not the dream I set out of live seven years ago, the one with delusions of grandeur, but the one I probably should have dreamt about in the first place. It's taken me several years and a lot of heartache to get here, but let me tell you I am loving it.


Yes, I still live month to month, and occasionally I'll have a pang of worry about my future, but my life right now feels incredibly blessed. Either that or my perspective changed, or I've learned to love the right things, or both. I don't worry nearly as much, and I've settled with the fact that my minimalist lifestyle is so much more of a blessing than it is a hardship. I want to have integrity and make music for musics sake, regardless of potential profits or marketability. Of course it would be nice if the mass audience appreciated our musical integrity and decided to become fans of our band, but if they never do there will be no harm done. We already have an audience, a really appreciative one, and for that I am thankful.

The Outside

Does anyone else feel like an outsider? Maybe you're playing along, acting within the cultural guidelines of whatever group you may associate with, but you never truly feel like you belong. I don't think I've ever felt like I "fit in," if there is such a feeling. Sure, I play the game to earn peoples respect, to have them accept me, but I don't feel like they know me any better because of it.

We all crave acceptance, respect and honor. We crave attention for who we are and we want to be known. Someone once told me that every artists motivating force is the desire to be loved by everyone. I think that might be true of everyone, not just artists. We've all felt an inkling of it at some point, that acceptance, and because of that we crave it more. Maybe you've felt it at camp, on a sports team, in a peer group, at church, in a relationship or friendship. We need it, and yet I'm convinced none of us truly feel it the majority of the time. Something tells me even the most magnetic, attractive and talented people probably still feel lonely and isolated. I'll bet they feel like they don't really fit into their peer groups. I've read countless books about famous artists and musicians and actors who took great risks to succeed, to be loved, only to end up alone, isolated, on the outside.

But then again maybe not everyone is like me. Maybe some people feel like they fit their peer groups fine. Maybe they feel deeply known and accepted. Maybe I'm projecting my own issues on everyone else because I want to relate. My parents were never really the tender emotional type, but my Dad once told me something my mom said to him years ago. She had warned him to be careful with me, because I was different and "emotional." I remember feeling really embarrassed by that. All I'd ever wanted was to fit in, and here was my mom saying I was different. My mom also told me when I was six years old I swore to her that I knew what people were thinking. I thought I could read minds. If you're wondering, I don't think I still have that skill. So I don't know, maybe I am different and "emotional." Maybe because I was a middle sibling in a large family I will always feel overlooked. Maybe I'll always feel on the outside. I'm not crying about it, I actually love what my circumstances have gifted me with. Something tells me I'm not alone though.

In our culture there is a lot of posturing and dishonesty. The one thing I hate more than lying is small talk. It seems people resolve to talk about things they don't really care about in some defensive maneuver to hide their true selves. The truth about you is scary, I don't care who you are, and our spineless society is more worried about social graces than true and honest relationships (see blog post "Friends Are What You Like"). With so much posturing and pretension, its hard to keep up with your "friends." If you don't come equipped with enough meaningless BS to spew out, the competitive nature of the conversation might cause you to lose some favor among said "friends." If you don't know your current pop culture or scene culture trivia, you could lose out on some serious ground gaining on the small-talk race-track. Now this isn't to say that all small talk is bad. You don't go up to someone and tell them your deepest darkest secret right after they say, "How's it going?" Its the obsession with the meaningless topics and the competition of it all that drives me crazy. Small talk should be a tool to get to real talk.

All this to say that if I am correct and other people are constantly feeling on the "outside," that perhaps part of the reason is the incredible lack of the true sense of community in Western Culture. I'm as mad at myself for this as I am at anyone else.

One place I do "fit in" is my marriage. By the grace of God I have a great one. The two of us together (Kristie and I) is an incredible thing to be a part of, and I am constantly learning more fascinating things about her. If I tried to explain it would only sound mushy. We've been married coming up on five years, and we've been together almost ten. Five years ago I never thought it could get better. I didn't think I could ever love her more, I was content to continue to love her at that same level for the rest of my life. Incredibly, I feel like my love for her is a thousand planes deeper than that level, and I was head over heels then. We are constantly learning more and more about each other, and we can be brutally honest with each other and still laugh until our stomachs hurt. Maybe thats why I have this desire to be a part of a community that is more, because I have an example of a relationship that has set the bar so high. Or maybe she's just the only person who has ever really attempted to know me and love me for who I truly am. Either way, and we say this all the time, we feel like puzzle pieces that fit perfectly. Now if I could only fit that way in all the other areas of my life...

I think the feeling of being on the outside is a strong motivation for good artists, however, great artists do art for art sake, and they aren't motivated by anything other than their passion for their work. Take a band for instance, struggling to make ends meat, trying to make a mark and be known. They get their shot on a major label and release their debut. Still, the record is written on the floors at friends houses and in their broken down van on the road. The record is full of realism, honest emotion and raw power. It's fueled by the tension between what is and what will be. People love the album. The band has created a niche in the music scene, people pack out shows to see them and they feel they are finally speaking the language of the people. They finally "fit in" to something that is ultimately greater than themselves. Excitement and expectations build as fans are anxious for a second release. Could it be greater than the first? It never is. Why? Take away that tension, and the second record flops. It's forced, it sounds like their chasing that first record, but they never can catch it, because it was honest and raw and fresh and different.

The best bands make music for musics sake. Album after album they put forth an honest effort. Some are better than others, yes, but you still anxiously await the next release because you know there are going to be cuts on it that will make you swell with emotion, that will lift your spirits or cut you to your soul.

So my challenge has been to not let the feeling of being on the outside control what I create. Luckily, we've always had the tension there (we've never been widely accepted), but even more fortunate is the fact that I haven't really caved to it. I haven't set out to write pop radio "hits" (whatever those are), or to fit into whatever scene is hot right now. I'd like to think I write from the heart, with a weird twist from the head and a sloppy scribble from the hand. I'd like the think I don't write to posture or impress or to appease anyone else. Maybe that has hurt us commercially, I don't know.

What I do know is that chances are I'm not alone. I'm not alone in feeling like I don't "fit in," because I know at least a couple people relate to our songs. At least a few people can understand and sing along as if the lyrics were meant for them. We can't all belong, but we can all not-belong together. We can share songs and sing along at the top of our lungs (that kind of rhymes). If that happens again on this new record, regardless of if we sell a million or a hundred copies, you can bet I'll be smiling.

The Studio

I apologize for my absence on this blog of late. I've been in the studio the past three weeks recording the third full length album for The Classic Crime. It's been an amazingly rewarding experience on one hand, and an extremely time consuming one on the other. This has been the fastest we've ever worked on a record, but it also feels like the most thorough. I've been inspired by the process and I'd like to sort out some of my thoughts on it.

I'll admit that I've never been as closely involved with one of our records as I am with this one. All of the songs save one were written this year, the same year I decided to start this blog. I feel like being able to write on this thing has improved my writing and how I communicate through a song, it's also given me an outlet and a focus that I haven't had before. Subsequently, this record is (I hope) more honest, poignant and raw, and I can honestly say that I believe this is the most "us" we've ever been.

On this record we've been learning that musical perfection is the sum of imperfect parts. On The Silver Cord (our last record) we experimented with tempos that moved and songs that had a natural ebb and flow. This record is even more dramatic. Only two songs were tracked with a click track (or a metronome for those who are unfamiliar) to keep time. We weren't too focused on the most technically perfect performance, the perfect tuning, or the perfect timing. The end result - what the imperfect parts create - is the perfect vibe, emotion or feeling, and that's what were going for.

Those who know us know that we are a band consumed with creating songs that focus on energy, melody and meaning as opposed to posturing and gimmicks. Not that there's anything wrong with gimmicks, we've just never been very good at them. We've always felt a need to be relevant, to speak to our generation in a language they can understand. I'll say in past records we've proudly worn our influences on our sleeves, maybe partly because we hadn't truly found our unique "sound" yet, but I also think it's partly because we knew that other relevant bands had had success with the same sounds. This record is different. The influences are there, but its such a progression from them. When I listen to these songs we're creating, it doesn't feel like we're doing a great job borrowing or building on our influences, it feels like we're doing something new and better. It feels like we're making important music.

We probably wont sell a million records. We probably wont sell a hundred thousand records. I'm aware that we might not sell any records, but that wont take away from the fact that I love this record. I love this direction, and that is gratifying enough.

We've got something for everyone on this album, some old "us," some new "us," and some "us" you've never heard before. We're the most "us" we've ever been and I love it.