After all, I did say I'd keep you updated. What better way to do so than to wait for over a week, stressing about what to say, setting up multiple reminders to blog on my phone, almost starting several times, and finally just doing it without much thought or outline. I did get through most of school on first drafts, so why not?
In no way do I mean to imply that you are worth less than my best, but I simply choose to give you my best in other areas of expression.
SPEAKING OF, new music is coming!
But Odist, isn't new music always coming? Sure, yes, okay, right.
BUT...
This time it's not (quite) an abstraction.
If you remember back in August when I jumped into the deadly whirlpool of kickstarter to raise funds for a trip to Ohio to record an EP with complete strangers in an unknown studio with rather rushed material, you may recall that we did not reach the monetary goal in the time limit set forward by my corporate overlords.
All is not lost.
Out of the ashes of that tourist trap confetti rampage, a new opportunity arose to face the dawn. In other words, a few lovely, optimistic folks decided to let me keep their donations even though the kickstarter fell through. They said to put their immensely appreciated gifts toward future musical endeavors. And thus I endeavored to imagine what new scenario may unfold in which such splendid generosity could be transmogrified into the sweets sounds of rock and roll.
Thankfully, I didn't have to face such a quandary by my lonesome.
As some of you may recall, toward the very end of my time living in Nashville, I sat down to record the song Philadelphia with my brilliant producer friend, Mr. Joe Casey. I'd first met Joe at the Contemporary Music Center back in 2011, where we first got to tour and play together in various composite band scenarios. He recorded some guitar and vocals on Cognitive Dissonance as well as helped with several other coolcoolcool projects.
Odist Abettor Music has always been its best when collaborative creativity is allowed to flow free and wild. I love what Joe Casey was able to bring out of my writing on Philadelphia from a production and arrangement standpoint. Recording with him is always a very laid back, supportive, inspiring time. As nerve-wracking as it can be to hand my little music idea babies over to someone else in even the smallest way, I truly believe Joe gets where I'm coming from. He's got a wonderful ear for catching the heart of a melody or chord structure or rhythm and bringing the most out of that groove. Plus, I think he does a great job getting the best out of artists, so I know when those other instrumentalists come in to add their piece, they'll be in good hands. Thankfully, I was actual able to pay him a bit for this work this time. I feel deep down that it's important to support indie artistry in its many forms if you're into it.
When I was down on the 5th and 6th, we worked all day on getting down the main vocals, acoustic guitar, and some bgv's for these four new tracks. We also went through each and started to plan out ideas for the other instruments and how to best convey the meaning and emotion in these songs. It's gonna be a very different project for me in terms of sound and the personal nature of these lyrics, but it'll still have the same passion, heart, and groovy jam that comes whenever we can bring a bunch of talented, hard-working artists together with the goal of making great art.
I promise to keep you updated as things move on, though as usual I can't promise too strict a schedule. It would probably make me more successful according to certain metrics if I could keep to a regular posting calendar, but honestly I don't feel like it.
As for some other things going on in the world right now, well, I can say that when I worked at a polling station helping sign folks in Tuesday before last, I was pleasantly surprised to see such a big turnout. Unlike how I normally behave, in this case I will choose to see the positive in that and save my anti-fascist ravings for another time.
Personally, I've been so tired lately. I think the time shift for daylight savings is messing with my vitamin D and thus screwing over my energy, but with depression you never know.
Every few days, I'll get this enormous aching tension in my chest as something reminds me of a dear friend who I'm no longer close to. Mostly, there are folks who've drifted from my life as I've drifted from there's. It's understandable, of course, as time, distance, and varying schedules metastasize into this gaping void of nostalgic wistfulness. My last trip to Nashville was so short and busy that I didn't get to see many folks at all, but seeing a few, especially in the setting of this city that was for a time my home, felt like the kind of cheery lonesome blanket which hangs on long after the dream is forgotten. Like the first scent of winter on a cold fall night. Like driving past your old high school. Like drinking Code Red for the first time since you were a young teenager. Like when you finally get your driver's license and are driving you and your dad back from the DMV, all smiles, as you listen to Obama's first inauguration speech on the car radio. Like when you hang with people you haven't seen in a long time, from a culture long since barred from you, and they so freely bring up these opinions you too once held but now see are hauntingly problematic, and they say it so calmly and cool like they're talking about the weather and of course you must agree, but what do you even say because the folks they're badmouthing are your friends, are your neighbors, are YOU. Like a cold day when the sun is so bright through the windshield you gotta turn on the car AC, and when you switch to the alt-rock station it plays a song that takes you back and back and back...
Sometimes, though, there are folks with whom I wish I could just sit down and talk. A real, honest conversation, where it was all laid out plain. But they don't want to talk to me anymore. And for a while I was angry. For a while I allowed myself to believe all the horrible things that they said about me. For a while I let it roll over me and chain me down under the waves. It wasn't fair. It's still not. Reasonable people should be able to talk things over.
Then again, since when have any of us ever been reasonable?
I'll admit, I probably hold some poorly-sourced opinions about you or someone you may know or someone they knew once maybe. I'll admit, plenty of people I loved and still love really hate my guts (even if, I suppose, some of them don't know it's my guts they hate).
But here's a thought: maybe folks are gonna think what folks want to think and sometimes there's nothing we can do about it. When it's the school bully or some raving tool online, it's almost comforting, the familiarity of their animosity. When it's from those you love and respect, though, it can be hard to find your baseline.
Just as grief follows trauma, loneliness begets the realization that much of your own sense of self-worth may be based on what another person thinks of you. It's one thing when they don't know you well. Hating on strangers can be cathartic to some extent. It's another when they know you so well yet choose to believe the worst instead of giving you even the slightest benefit of the doubt. That's when it all comes down to either being who you want to be or who you think they say you should be.
You don't have to see yourself as a monster just because they do.
No lack of their love makes you any less lovable.
And finally, I'm starting to realize that I can't go through such drastic changes and expect that those who wanted me before the change will still all want me now.
For those who've believed in me and stuck around through my maelstrom of madness, your support means more than I can ever express.
Thus I try to express it by making the best art I can and not giving up on my dreams.
For instance...
stay skeptical,
Odist
