On the Line

A new song and some words about it

It was over 10 years ago that I received my first email from Brad. At that time, I had a Tumblr (like Substack, but more hormonal) and was writing and releasing noisy, heavy music while secretly working on pop songs. My plan was to make a bunch of money penning pop hits in the shadows, then go off and make whatever the fuck I wanted without any pressure. I learned, very slowly, that it wasn’t that easy.

But this isn’t about me. It’s about Brad.

Back then, Brad was at Defend Music, a publishing company known for repping the Daptone Records and Stones Throw catalogs, among others. He’d heard one of the noisy records I’d made and reached out about a publishing deal. Unfortunately, I’d just signed with a different company.

Despite the stars not quite aligning for us, Brad was still excited for me. When he came to New York for CMJ that fall, he suggested we meet.

We had breakfast somewhere near Webster Hall and lamented not connecting a few months earlier, when working together might’ve still been on the table. Although it might’ve been for the best, as four months later, Brad left Defend and joined another publishing company.

By then, I was neck deep in a hole I couldn’t dig out of. Writing music for people I didn’t like. Struggling to find my tribe, to fill my cup, to feel some semblance of the spark I’d since lost. I abandoned my initial plan and pivoted to focus on my own records again. “Move to LA. I’ll help you,” Brad said.

It’s kind of surreal to think about how much music I ingested immediately upon landing in LA. Back in NY, the venues were closing left and right. Here, it was the Virgil, the Bootleg, the Satellite, the Echo, the Troubadour, the rooftop at the Ace Hotel. Brad introduced me to Nate, who brought me to the Blue Whale, and that venue that wasn’t really a venue but was below that venue in North Hollywood, where the literal best musicians in the game got together every Thursday night just to play. Nothing planned or rehearsed.

Brad promoting my first LA show. 5/25/2015

Many of those shows led to a 2am meal at a diner called Fred 62, where I’d find myself surrounded by Brad’s friends. Everyone he introduced me to came with this undertone of: these are my people, and now they’re yours too.

Over the course of my tenure in this city, I’d meet transplants who critiqued the city, hurling all the usual insults. I’d rush to LA’s defense — feeling a little guilty, because secretly, I knew I had a cheat code. I never even had the opportunity to feel alone in this city. Brad never allowed for it.

Eventually, Brad left that other publishing company and helped start Nice Life Recording Company. I still remember when he asked me to “check out this artist Lizzo we might sign.” He was one of three people at that label when they discovered her.

So when Brad called again — this time to tell me he was moving on once more, starting his own thing this time — I was, of course, thrilled for him. And when he said he was going to kick that journey off by sending around a Tascam Portastudio and having artists record songs straight to tape, I was honored that he chose me to be part of it.

“On The Line” was the first thing I’d written and recorded in months. I probably would’ve gone a few more without writing anything if Brad hadn’t knocked on my door with the Tascam. But I’m glad he showed up when he did — it led to this hyper-focused reflection on the beginning of a new chapter of my life in LA.

And who better to nudge me into grabbing a snapshot of that?

Thanks, Brad.

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On the Line

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If you can stay awake
The certainties will bend and break
And life will finally start

The goldmine markings on your map
Will all turn out to be a trap
The prize is coming out alive

You’ll find everything will taste like honey
And it’s all about the money
But you’ll cut it down to size

And you’ll see a rest stop
And remember
Who you were and
It’ll linger
so did you put it all on the line

And you’ll see an old friend
Who remembers
Nothing cause he’s still in it
and did he put it all on the line

I tried to strike the match
But it was dampened from the crash
And I could mourn the fire

But it was good or maybe great
And that’s more than most can say
To feel it once in their lives

And I learned everything that tastes of honey
Is paid for with blood money
 it might be worth the price