I keep vacillating between significant excitement and dreadful apprehension. I am fluctuating between both emotional states so rapidly that it feels like I could, with just a little bit of pressure, phase my molecules through a wall of pure titanium. Which could do wonders for my secondary career as a bank robber. (And my tertiary career as a panty raider.) The silly thing is, this is sorta my natural state, to a greater or lesser degree. I start working on a new record, and I am suddenly awash with excitement over the individual songs. This one has a mind-blowing chorus. That one has really clever lyrics. This one has a beautiful chord change. The one over there can stand on its head while whistling Dixie. The newest one just offered to clean my place for me. You know, I mean, these songs can do amazing things. And I get overwhelmed by the possibility that perhaps we might be putting into motion an album that could really say something. An album that could offer a unique and interesting perspective on this strange, melancholy, wonderful, exuberant melange of catastrophes called life. And it’s wonderful. And I am filled with, nay, not hope…hope is too, hopeful. I think I am filled with expectation. I expect it to be an amazing and wonderful record. Like seeing the form in a block of stone and then using a chisel to remove all the bits that don’t belong.
And when I first started writing albums, I truly, honestly thought, when thinking about the record, that this was the greatest record of all time. When people listen to this album, they will be so moved, so blown away that they will have no choice but to worship the people that made the music. And that we would release the record, head out on the road, tour like maniacs, do radio shows, interviews, press dealies and festival whatsits and the love would grow and grow and grow. Which, obviously, didn’t come to pass. Or not in the way I thought it would. And, if you talk to pretty much any working band they’ll tell you this reaction is basically par for the course. There is a titanic amount of work that needs to be put into a band to grow yourself to the point that you’re a sustainable business. Which is why I never disparage other musicians. If they’re making money, they’ve obviously put in a lot of work. But, I digress. So there I was, expecting hallelujahs and instead receiving not-bads or pretty-cools. I mean, there would be some excitement but it always felt a little reserved. Certainly not the glorious, joyful exuberance that I was certain was our right for having created such an awesome masterpiece. And after every release, I would reach this strange point of apprehension and self-doubt. Like, maybe this isn’t my calling. Maybe no one really likes my music. Maybe I should just hang up my guitar and take a day-job. And each time, I would reach that point of self-doubt quicker than the time before. And then recently, when we released Fury…well, man, that was tough. But just wait, this story is not over.
So, I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching lately and I realized that I’m being a big, fat ninny. Like, what am I thinking? I’m so busy looking at the luscious stalks of green grass two hills over I’ve completely ignored the fact that I”m standing in a patch of perfectly manicured verdant awesome. Get Set Go has some of the most dedicated, stalwart, faithful, and loving fans in all the world. I have done so many things to drive you away. I’ve disappeared for longs stretches of time. I’ve written rambling missives lamenting what I saw were our failures. I groused, I bitched, I moaned. And basically, I behaved like a spoiled little monkey. Well, no more. I am so sorry. I know you’re out there. You, the person reading this, you’re the person I’ve been making this music for. You’re the person that’s been with us on this long and wild ride, careering alongside us as I drove this vehicle called Get Set Go near the brink. And you have done nothing but support, and appreciate, and love our music. So, that said, I intend to work every day to be worthy of your support. I believe we are. I think the music speaks for itself. But, even so, there’s much more to the story of Get Set Go than what you hear in the music. The music is a personal diary of sorts. I used to give you the other parts of the story in fun and funny blogs. In interesting, intimate online shows. And in so many other little ways. I intend to resurrect all of these things. I intend to fill in the rest of the story. And I hope, when all is said and done, it will be well worth the price of admission.
Wearing nothing but jewel encrusted baby-briefs,
P.S. Get Set Go VI, whose name we are not yet willing to release, is gonna be awesome! I will write more about it tomorrow. Lots of love!