I decided to finally finish the record. I put it all on hold when the world fell apart, but yesterday, we all decided that it was just about finished. Professionally you could argue this is a foolish move. What’s the rush? Why now?
Emotionally you could argue that, in a world where I’m doing nothing, doing something feels good. So there you have it.
I listened through the songs in order yesterday after having taken a break from the record for a while, and man, it made me so happy. Whoever wrote those songs, whoever is singing them, whoever put that band together, man, they’re the coolest. Whoever planned that project and saw it through to the end, man, hire them. Hire those guys (DM me and I’ll tell you all about them). Listening to that record feels like a message in a bottle sent from another time and landed right here right now to me in my basement. I’m so thankful to that person, and those band members, and whoever that songwriter is and whoever is singing them. Thank you.
I love it. I hope someone out there loves it as much as we do. In my dreams, months and months from now, I imagine getting all those guys together from those magical days in the studio and playing the songs on a stage, loud as hell, and happy as hogs in shit. Seriously supremely happy.
Love, family, songwriting, the garden, the breaking the five mile marker, the wind, the package I have to send, the care package I received, the sunglasses, the sweatpants, the reading together on the couch, the manuscript I get to review, the song I get to listen to, the conversation I hear in my ears as I run the length of the dirt road and back, the cold front, the sunshine, the Amazon Prime, the Q2 goals yet undone, that dress I thought I would be wearing for shows I thought I would be playing, the elusive haircut, the face mask, the distance I keep between me and everything, the song I can’t write because I can’t bring myself to say it or sing it, the Monday night club and why can’t I come up with stuff like that? and so on and so on.
At least I’ll have this album. At least the masters will feel good in my pretend digital hands. At least I can say I got that far and isn’t life a funny thing?
Did you know this is all real? Did you know you’re being asked to sink your fingers into the thick chocolate pudding of this reality? Lean in to every feeling, every fancy, every inspiration, every relationship, make peace with what you’re fighting with and let down your guard? The muse isn’t out there somewhere. It’s staring you in the face like a ghost six inches from your nose and the minute you start looking and really seeing, touching and really feeling, leaning in rather than always retreating, you’ll be flooded by all that stuff deep underneath you think you keep hidden but you don’t. I don’t. Be curious. Ask why. Love deeper. Sink your fingers slowly til the pudding reaches your wrists, pull out your fingers, make the shape of claws then sink them back down again. And again.
That girl on the record? I think her stage name is “Pudding Hands.”