Can I have fun?
We may never know.
I once read an interview with Fiona Apple where she was asked why she hadn’t released music in a while. She responded saying she was enjoying life and doesn’t write when times are good. I let out a small nervous laugh when I read her words, knowing very well that my own process wasn’t as healthy.
I still make music throughout all of life’s seasons, but I tend to only value the stuff born out of conflict. If it wasn’t forged out of friction, it doesn’t feel like mine. So, when I make something fun, I feel this peculiar instinct to hide it.
My biggest influences have discographies filled with fun music. Love songs, simple songs, and beautiful ones at that. So, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense that I won’t allow myself to take part. Or rather, if I do, it feels like a dark secret I absolutely must keep from you.
I wish I could blame it on over curating. Now more than ever, we’re encouraged to be conscious of our brand, but for better or worse, I feel like I haven’t really let that influence much of my decision making. I mean, I was in a band named North Korea and my most streamed song is called “Body Talk”. I’m a branding nightmare.
The reason I speak of all this is because the song I share with you today, “Clean Up Good”, is a fun one. It’s not cloaked with any aching metaphors. I didn’t have to tear my insides out to make it. It came to me easily, and speaks rather directly and simply. It feels, to me, more cerebral than guttural, but that’s not to say my heart isn’t in it.
I had pain in my life when I wrote it, but I didn’t use it. I wasn’t ready to unpack those bags, so I decided to stow the bad stuff for another day and write about the good stuff instead.
I’ve since pulled those bags out of the closet and have been neck deep in the process of writing about their contents. And so I’ve recently found myself, on the eve of releasing this song, now weighing it against the harrowing material I’m currently working on. Judging it, picking it apart, and poking holes in it.
If you’ve made it this far in reading this, I’d just like to acknowledge that I’m aware this is an absolutely terrible way to promote my new single.
Here’s another way to explain it…
I used to compare pop music to fast food. That sounds derogatory, but I don’t mean it that way. I love pop music. And I have to believe that whether you’re a health conscious yoga fanatic or the equivalent of a trash raccoon…we all find ourselves at a drive-thru from time to time. And when we do we’re usually looking to a friend or partner in the passenger side with a smile, knowing that whatever we’re eating at whatever hour was the only thing that was going to hit the spot. You don’t want a Michelin rated restaurant in that moment. You don’t want a home cooked meal. You want fun.
Pop music is fun. Sure, I like weird chords. And I love lyrics that have you pondering their meaning for years. But I also sometimes eat a bean and cheese burrito at 3am.
So, I know what’s going to happen, because I’ve done this before. Someone’s going to message me a year and a half from now and tell me they really love this song and it means a lot to them. I’m going to listen to it for the first time since releasing it, and I’m going to think to myself, “I really love this song.” I’ll have distance from it then. I’ll weigh it against something I’m making in that moment; a piece of music I’m struggling with. All of a sudden I’ll have empathy and warmth for this younger version of myself and all the things he didn’t know. I’ll hear the beauty in that; in this fun little analog synth driven love song that he made.
Comparison is the thief of joy, and weighing these songs against one another is the fundamental problem at the core. But like most kinks in my wiring, it’s easier said than done.
Maybe the dark secret isn’t that I can have fun. Perhaps it’s admitting that I do have fun, and that I do love this song. It’s different from the ones born in deeper and darker waters, but it is still mine. It is still me, so my hope is that the release comes in admitting that to you, and by unveiling that secret, instead of waiting a year and a half, I can enjoy this with you now.
I feel better already.