I’m settling back into life in Music City, preparing for a chapter of benign unknown. I say benign because pushing one’s comfort zone’s rarely the calamitous affair we anticipate, and in my case it’s long overdue.
The truth is, no one really knows what the hell’s going on, especially given the rapid and continuous shifting within the industry, and anyone who claims they’ve got the answers is a sociopath, or at the very least an asshole.
And that’s ok. Not knowing stuff can be a gift. Thinking back on the early Allen Stone years, if someone had told me about label in-fighting, disguised payola, booking agency politics and the like, I’d have run for the hills. And I wouldn’t know the amazing people I do, or have the experiences that’ve shaped me into not being a complete dingus. Not having a damn clue, it turns out, has been the cornerstone in building a remarkable life.
The Allen Stone project didn’t have, and arguably never has had, a plan - what we’ve always had is an inordinate amount of self-belief, that our show’s important, that our music belongs in the world.
That kind of self-belief begets the confidence to seek out people who know more than you and ask them questions, and the humility to be elevated and inspired.