The Evolution of the Artist

Considering how many months of recording, overdubs, etc. were put into creating my new upcoming album, it's amazing to think that in December 2014, the band and I recorded my previous EP, Songs to Control the Weather By, in only one day, live on the floor, with only about three takes per song. Whiskey was involved, and not very much planning. That was just how it was. I still like those tunes, but, a couple of years on, I think about what I could have done with them, now with the benefit of a little more experience.

In this way, learning to make a record is kind of like learning to build a house. The first couple of times, you slap some mud and sticks together, cobble something together that you hope gels -- you don’t worry about creature comforts, or the roof leaking a little bit, or the cracks in the foundation. You want to make sure you can build something livable, some little assurance that you can get out from underneath the rain for a little while, even if this mud-hut isn’t the castle that you’ve dreamed of.  

There’s no shame in it, although a lot of artists try their damnedest to demolish those raw first attempts once they know better. It’s inevitable, though. Every painter, great or small, begins with stick figures, and then asks himself: how do I daub in the flesh to cover those bare bones? 

You start by placing one rock on top of another. You’re the caveman trying his best not to die of exposure. Then, once you have an idea of what you’re doing, you earnestly try to build castles. I’m pretty excited about this new record – it might not be a castle, but it’s definitely roomier than the last one. It feels like I could live in here for a while.