🎵 Alone

In which I sing...

This is a synthograph. I did not draw this.

I think it’s important — no, I believe it’s important as an artist, to fully commit to trying. To try so hard that you are at risk of failure and embarrassment. I make a lot of jokes here. A lot of satire, a lot of cynicism, a lot of irony. These are useful devices for exposing the absurdities and contradictions at the heart of our cruel society and dark impulses. Where humor goes awry is when it serves to shield the artist from failure.

If I am going to ridicule others, I must expose myself to ridicule. If I want to thrive as an artist, I must state honest opinions. I must write truthfully and strive for earnestness. I must not pretend that my failures and embarrassments are a joke. I must not say, Oh, I didn’t succeed because I was never trying. The fact is — I am trying. If I don’t succeed, it’s because I’m not succeeding.

One of the most earnest and vulnerable things a person can do is sing, especially alone. Especially singing about a topic that isn’t just a hokey love song. Or some corporate pop trash about getting drunk and spending money.

So here it is, yours truly, fully exposed, a voice that’s naked (except for autotune — hey, I still have to hit the notes). I wrote this in one afternoon sitting at my parents’ breakfast nook, recording myself with a fifteen-dollar microphone given to me by a friend, during a period where I was once again lapsed into insolvency. A leitmotif of my life as an artist.

I couldn’t sing this way again if I tried. Couldn’t recreate this song. I don’t even know how it was made. But it was made. And even though it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up to hit publish, I’m sharing it with you.

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