Swift Kicks

The recording sessions for the next Allen Stone Band record wrapped a few days ago and here I am, back in the real world. Didn't I join a band to avoid this kinda thing? Anyway. Maybe it's the calm before the storm, anticipating the record's release, or my throwing myself into a bunch of new projects that's got me off balance, but these last few days have been a bit of a tight rope walk. And that's ok, there're good songs to be found here, and I'm writing this literally as the sun's rising on a new day.

Before the Allen Stone Band found its feet, I fronted a rock trio. We were pretty good. A few record companies bought us meals, and one guy in particular bought us very expensive meals. He suggested we make a bunch of changes to pretty much everything, and we did because he said he’d sign us and give us a Ton of Money. We put lots of time and effort into making those changes, and the music suffered, but that's ok because, you know, a Ton of Money. Then the guy lost his job and no one at the label returned our calls. 

I took it personally. Clearly, I sucked and had no business being invited to the party, much less showing up. My apartment became a pizza box obstacle course for a couple months, and I questioned the universe and higher powers responsible in all the ways 22 year olds do. 

But I still had my guitar and my songs, and I still had a few months’ rent in the bank. Brushing pizza crumbs off my regrettably patchy beard, I decided in the future I wasn’t going to sacrifice my art just for the money. If I do that, and don’t get the money, I’ve got nothing. If I do work I’m proud of, and don’t get the money, at least I have the work. 

Every once in a while, I forget this rule, or disregard it anyway, and each and every time the universe's given me a swift kick to the happy sacks.  

So, these days, I'm all about the party coming to me. I don't look good in the musical equivalent of pointy shoes, anyway.