I’m Supposed to Quit This Year

As I near the end of 2019 I come up on almost a decade of making music and I have a lot to be thankful for. Though they are small-time, I have a few highlights I could tell my grandkids one day. Ten years feels like a good run…and a good time to call it quits.

A few years ago I gave myself a deadline: if at the 10-year mark (the end of 2020) I wasn’t seeing a return on my financial investment (ROI), I would quit music.

I’ve struggled throughout my music career with insecurity and fear that music is/was a waste of time. My fears have been consistent: I’ll end up a nobody, never have stability, and I’ll die a washed-up loser. Giving myself an ultimatum felt like a dignified way to exit the industry before any of these fears could come true.

However, as I round the corner of 2020 and I see my ten year deadline in the distance, I realize I kinda like being a nobody, I do have stability, and maybe I am a washed-up loser to someone, but why should that matter to me?

Maybe I don’t have to quit music after-all.

The Real ROI

I used to think that financial ROI was the only way to legitimize the amount of time and money I put into music. However, when I think about the irreplaceable joy and purpose I get from it, I realize this is the real ROI.

Though money is important, the joy I get from making music carries more weight than the frustration of still being a renter, driving a beat-up car, or skimping on vacations.

So with that, no, I don’t think I have to quit music.

Joy ROI wins.

Still Feels Like Failure

Ok… so the joy ROI epiphany is great, but there’s still something that bothers me: even though joy is enough of a reason to keep making music, I still feel like a failure sometimes.

This whole “I’m doing this for me” thing feels like a cheap, soft copout.

I believe these thoughts knock at the back door of my brain because I know joy is the car but I need some gasoline.

There’s Always Hope

I used to think it was silly to dream about “getting famous.” I thought hopes like those were either indulgent, pathetic or for the extraordinarily talented. Instead of dreaming, I picked up my sword of self-awareness, ready to slash down any expectations that dared grow too tall.

We all need a reality check from time to time, but it's no law to live by.

There’s another level to this heroic self-awareness: even though I will probably never make it big, or even medium, I need to hope that I will anyway. When music gets hard and the joy wears off, you need something to keep you pushing. That's where audacious, unaware, and impractical hope comes in.

I'm not sure what to call this hope. It's not as dramatic as destiny or boring as calling... It’s more like the universe is cooking up a dish and I have a specific spice that will add just the right flavor. The dish can be served without my spice, but why wouldn’t I want to contribute to something that feeds the planet? This hope is magical, mysterious, playful, and begs me to share.

I guess what I'm trying to say it…even if I wanted to I can’t quit music.

Feeling My Age

I’ve been feeling my age lately.

It’s not that it‘s really showing quite yet, but my bones are saying, “you’re the deep kinda tired that comes with age.”

I’ve strained in front of more computer screens, laughed at more dumb jokes, cried alongside more broken hearts, and squinted through more cheap sunglasses than the average 25-year old I occasionally pass for.

The lines haven’t settled in yet, but I see where they will. On days when I’m tired or worn out, my skin feels like soft butter left on the counter on a hot day.

I've been feeling my age lately.

I feel like I should be more freaked out about aging, but instead, I feel a sense of relief.

Some days I still feel upset that I haven’t done “enough” with my life, but most days I just feel the sweet surrender of settling into quiet routines with my partner and our dogs.

What age has given me, besides soft butter skin and a tired body, is mental strength I didn't have before: surrender to the now and joy in the little things.

I guess you can say I've been feeling my age both inside and out.

Forgiveness

Releasing Of Course I Still Love You has been quite a whirlwind: Dark came out on all streaming platforms, I got a single spin on the radio (woo!), some press, and had a really fun house show to celebrate the release!

Often, after something exciting like releasing an EP, I get a little down. I struggle with looking at my work through a critical eye. When a project is finished, I suddenly see all the flaws (I thought I could live with) more clearly.

As I reflect on this EP I see a thread that runs throughout each song; forgiveness. Forgiveness not only for the mistakes of others but even the ones we make.

Forgiveness is not without boundaries and it certainly doesn’t give you, or other people, permission to continue toxic behavior. The best forgiveness is embodied by a love that is strong, gracious, and knows not only when to say yes, but when to say no.

I’m learning how to better love myself and others in a way that's neither codependent or toxic, but it’s difficult! Love is often confused with just being nice...and though love should be kind, it certainly isn’t always nice.

Sometimes love tells you it's time to say hard things to a loved one, and other times it takes you to therapy and your “think about it never” box gets opened up... When love like this pushes you toward forgiveness, it isn't always fun, but I'm here to tell you it's beautiful.

When I made this EP, Of Course I Still Love You, I weaved a silvery thread of hope through the songs. Tough love, forgiveness, and the messiness of being human is mixed in with a silver lining so bright you can't miss it.

Much love,

Alison