The Dear Future
It’s a perfect autumn gloom today. It has that moodiness and color that makes autumn so cinematic. I’m driving to meet some friends and for the first time in a long time I hear myself on the radio. Just that quick, the first track from Dear Lover, “City Life,” is playing on the radio. It’s a rush of proud achievement. A labor of love, it was often a persistent game of pin-the-tail on the elusive weather of music.
Everything we do is about casting. From recording records to marriage, chemistry is everything. Good casting allows people to flourish as naturally as possible in situations. I can be proud of what I’ve done with Dear Lover. It was an act of will, but I didn’t do it alone. I’ve operated under the radar for years, I’ve scratched my head and hovered so close to the ground that crashing seemed inevitable. I’ve even had record company executives (who will remain unnamed) tell me my career was over. It’s still not clear where my career is ultimately headed. But it’s never over until you yourself decide it’s over. No matter what you do for a living, living is an act of faith and brotherhood. The new world has leveled the playing field and opened the gates for all to rush in to create and listen. We live in amazing times.
On Tuesday, October 27th, I released Dear Lover digitally. The speed at which things move today is amazing, and it may be the greatest challenge we’ve ever known. Every part of our communities are being challenged by a deluge of news, politics, entertainment, loneliness, hype and hope. Is it even possible to digest it all? What suffers in this storm of culture and zeitgeist, what flourishes? Frankly, I don’t know. But I believe that connectivity means more than it ever did.
No matter what happens with Dear Lover, at it’s core is a gang that has rallied together to offer something meaningful to friends, listeners and strangers. It’s an amazing cast of people I find myself surrounded by, so much heart and talent. When I heard “City Life” on the radio I was reminded of all the things that create the entire story of Dear Lover: Molly playing the violin in one take on “Your Museum.” Laughing at 6ft 4 Brian Bequette playing that goofy lime green accordion all clumsy and great on “The World Is.” Rod singing all low and rumbling with sunglasses on because the southern July sun was burning through the room. Scott and I gathered around a mic, bluegrass style, for “City Life” (him on mando, me on accordion). Monica Hopman, my friend and publicist for years, deciding that she’d hunker down and start a company with me and go on this new adventure releasing my records. Clay and I drinking until 4am trading bass solos on “PS.” And maybe the most miraculous moment, hearing for the first time the transformative mastering job that Hans Dekline did to my very earnest mixes for Dear Lover.
All of this is between the notes of Dear Lover. That’s what I would wish for you as well, because it’s getting harder to get people to slow down enough to really listen. We don’t know what the outcome for our work and dreams will be. The very least we can do is have a great time doing it.
