Song #11: My Great Escape

In which I want to give up.

Liner Notes

When I started Closer to the Truth back in February, I wrote a short piece about my intentions and what I hoped to accomplish through the year. One of my specific goals was to run out of time and be forced to release music that I didn't consider "finished." In this I could confront my fear of being judged by art I don't really want to identify with, and simultaneously test the theory that perfectionism is a ploy keeping my greatest and most vulnerable music from being appreciated.

Well, the time has come my friends.

Today I get to write about the beauty and extreme discomfort of releasing this week's song "My Great Escape." I'm trying to be mindful not to apologize for the song, or make excuses for my life or my choices or whatever (already failing?). My intention is to observe this experience, let it go, and step graciously into the sunshine of a new day, knapsack full of the fruits of my intentions.

"My Great Escape" came about very suddenly back in mid-March, along with 2 or 3 other song ideas in the same vein. I was strumming cowboy chords on my acoustic guitar and listening for moments of silence and space, somewhere to lay a simple truth. There's a Platonic ideal in this "three chords and the truth" approach to songwriting, a-la Tom Petty, Bob Dylan, Ron Sexsmith, where nothing is tiresome about these old chords so long as you mean them.

So in my search for truth I strummed these chords for about 20 minutes until a lyric tumbled out: "From my lips to God's ears, watch me manifest my fears." A bit ominous, right? Good sign. Here's a voice memo from the few minutes after it arrived as I was feeling out what the song was trying to tell me. (This is a wandering voice memo but if you hang in there, you'll hear me arrive at the the chorus).

Voice Memo #1, March 2022

So over these few minutes I found some context for the song: "My greatest fear, my great escape." Is it profound or meaningless? This the inquiry I'm usually steeped in as I chase down bits of music, trying to gently understand what my unconscious is saying without letting ego hijack the process.

At first I figured the song was about death, fear of death, depression, suicide, abandonment, etc. which are common themes in my writing. I hold space for these topics in songs because I find them awkward to bring up in casual conversation, but truly they've been a big part of my emotional palette since I was a teenager, and more consciously so in the last 10 years since becoming aware of my father's struggles with depression and suicide.

When I played the song for Amy she had a different interpretation: less about the big death and more about our little deaths, facing fears so that we might be released from the power they hold over us. This resonated deeply as well, and so I continued plumbing the song for more lyrics, careful not to overthink.

Over the next day I corralled a handful of couplets and a bridge, but struggled to find my authentic voice. Every time I sang "my greatest feeeaaaarrrr" I felt a wave of emotion, recognition sweep through my body, but I couldn't find the rest of the story and the emotion kept sinking as I made my way through the song.

I shifted strategies and I started to focus on production in hopes that finding a sonic palette would help me clarify the emotion and make the writing come more easily. Since the song was plodding in it's cowboy-ish-ness I added a driving bassline and kick drum to help keep it afloat as it stretched on past the 4-minute mark. I sang along and tried out new lyrics, improvising as bits came through. Here's a demo at the end of that process:

Demo #1, May 2022

I felt I was touching on something, but I began losing faith in the song and the process it required. I felt embarrassed by the lack of clarity in my lyric and paralyzed in making decisions about the guitar parts and additional textures needed to complete my idea. I was low and disheartened and put the song on the back burner to focus on "Message From Our Sponsors" instead, to have something to share last week.

Returning to the song a few days later I actually felt repulsed by the "driving" demo, my meager attempt at making an underdeveloped song sound palatable. I had my three chords but I was failing at communicating the truth.

With the pace of my life-outside-of-music still whizzing by, I started feeling overwhelmed by the path I had set out for myself. I felt empty and uninspired, tired, sad, anxious. I resented the project and wondered why I was putting myself through the agony. I decided to give up. 10 songs is pretty good let's just revel in the accomplishment and the irony and call it a day. My greatest fear. My great escape.

With the meta-ness of this project there may be failures, but there are no wrong choices, only prompts under which I can examine my experience of being alive. What if forcing myself down a path is actually kryptonite for my creative spirit? What if there are cycles to creative energy and I was ignoring what my body was telling me? What if gritting my teeth and pushing through was actually the only way I was ever going to make it in the world?

I emerged from my funk with some detachment and a sliver of hope. "Get it over with," I thought, "move on to the next. It's ok. This is what you wanted Andy."

I began looking for the shortest distance to the end of this chapter. I stripped away the production to just guitar and vocal. If I was going to fail I wanted to fail without the window dressing. I took out the bridge and the other melodic hooks. Writing about this now I see it as mostly ego-protection. It's gentler to be judged for something bare and simple, something tossed out at the last minute, than something big, time-consuming, elaborate, and extremely mediocre. Here's the bare bones:

Demo #2, May 2022

I did 5 or 6 takes like this and started getting frustrated. The song felt slow and too simple, everything was taking too long. I cranked up the tempo and sang through another few times before calling it quits. I decided I had given what I had to give and it was time to move on. You can hear it in the playing, it sounds like I'm just desperate to get the song over with. I played a meek little guitar solo to fill in the middle and did a quick mixdown, hardly listening as it went by.

I made some quick artwork (the back door over my shoulder) and felt a sense of relief creep in as I logged in to upload the mix. There was no hesitation. Upload. Submit. It's over. My fears, manifested. Will anyone find out? If I didn't write this whole blog out would anyone know the difference?

Final Version, May 2022

I realize that I'm pretty hard on myself when it comes to creating art. My inner-critic is well represented in these blogs and my hope is that in writing about him I will be able to create some distance between the negative voice and the boundless creative energy at my core. I feel my purpose in life is to communicate truth through music and I want to learn more and more about how to get out of my own way.

I'm so grateful to share this experience with you, thanks for reading and the continued support.

P.S. My friend Ulrika pointed out that apart from all the NFT mumbo-jumbo, it wasn't clear how readers could best to support my music. I added a new section on my homepage with specifics, which include a way to offer one-time and recurring donations. If you find yourself looking forward to these songs + blogs, consider a recurring donation for the duration of the project this year. Thanks!

My Great Escape

From my lips to gods ears watch me manifest my fears
Left to rot inside my home, will I do the rest alone?

My greatest fear, my great escape
Turning to you but it's too late
My greatest fear, my great escape
We learn to lose to live again

From my heart to god's hands, I'm just doing what i can
Pulled the thread of my soul, lost my self and self control

My greatest fear, my great escape
Turn in to you, but it's too late
My greatest fear, my great escape
We learn to lose to live again

When you come to lay me down and theres noone else around
Will i sit beside the throne, or walk the valley out beyond

My greatest fear, my great escape
Turning to you but it's too late
My greatest fear, my great escape
We learn to lose and live again