Lately I’ve been trippin’ out on the concept of all that is “instant.” Today we get the luxury of instantaneously showcasing whatever it is we are before we even get a moment to figure out what it is ourselves. The tempo and pace of relevancy and ethic come at the highest of intervals leaving little to no room for ideas to age with any depth. There’s a lot of fascinating aspects to the ever evolving culture of quantity over quantity; but a lot of us have not been able to master it yet. I know I haven’t.
When I’m not drafting out these teen angst rants for The Hundreds, 9 times out of 10 I’m in my bedroom studio working on music. As of the past couple months I’ve been trying to run parallel with how I view the pace of music culture and how music is released. I’ve been releasing individual songs frequently at a weekly rate as my own confused response to the ADD times we live in.
With hopes of an influx of positive results, sales, and accolades; I caught myself checking the stats and commentary on the ‘loosies’ at every moment possible. My unapologetic sense of creativity was halted by a desire to put out things I know will evoke good numbers. Long story short, this method has had me staring at my computer screen for brief glimpses of self-esteem.
These past couple months have taught me lessons on the idea of what comes with the idea of “instant.” More importantly, it taught me I’m an old motherfucker that would rather make an album than toil over making a temporary Internet hit. One day I might master it, but until then, I care not to.
I’m forever a work in progress. I’m an artist that wants to cook slowly in a brick oven. We all deserve more than this fast food we’re stuffing our faces with.
Here’s my past few months shot in film on a shitty Olympus. Scroll slow homie.