A long time ago, before you posted covers or played gigs or wrote songs or made millions of dollars or fucked a lot of girls with low self esteem and high-waisted jeans, something made you love music. I want to tell you guys more about why I do over time, but that’s the sorcery of it, right? If I do that, it’s just another cliche and then it’s not art to me. Then something like this begins after my first post and I won’t do a second one.
So instead…hi. My name is Eric. I really love music. Some days I want to quit everything because I don’t think I’m any good and some days in my own mind going to play a bar gig feels like a chance to do something that’s actually truly… important on some level.
I know it makes no sense and it appears to be an exercise in self immolation to some of my friends and family, but here I am. It’s Friday night and I had plans fall through so after I spiraled and almost cried (fuck it! I like honesty when I can muster it) for a minute/hour, I wrote a poem and felt better. Then I decided to finally write my first blog post for these wonderful people I’ve been telling to expect content from for a week :p
Thank you guys for giving me this platform to use, and it’s my sincere hope this… attempt at something closer to honesty than commerce was enlightening in some way. Either way, I submit for your consideration the thought that I finally am learning to like myself sometimes because I finally stopped thinking it needed to make sense to anyone else but me.
Before I wrote anything or even played guitar yet, I loved music. When I’m alone and I don’t have company, music lets me create something that might make my art heroes proud or a piece of shit that helped me kill a lonely night. I would’ve probably suffered much less if I had understood that some of us are creative people and I for one am pretty ashamed of that at times because yes, it’s a pretty self-indulgent pursuit. But I also am proud of it because I see the amazing things some of the people who made the music I love did with their platform, and I see the not so amazing things they did, and I get to decide what I want to say and what I want to put into the world for kids who are going through teenage years like I did and that’s a large, difficult, process I finally want to engage with again instead of checking out in my heart and feeling barely alive. (Hi Jenny Lewis <3)
I’ll hate this blog post later because my depression always hates my optimism in hindsight but we can talk more about all that another time. If you’re reading this, you are loved even when you don’t know it. 🙂 If you like over analyzing things, creating stuff that weirds out your normal friends and live for obscure or challenging art like me, drop me a comment and let’s be pals. <3