Releasing an album these days can feel like pouring salt into the ocean, so huge thanks to everyone who’s gotten in touch since Picnic in a Landfill was released here on Substack last week. It’s been an absolute delight hearing from you.
If you haven’t heard Picnic yet but would like to, click this button, fill in the form, and I’ll send it to you:
A FEW NOT VERY FAQs
Why aren’t your records on Spotify?
Because Spotify is killing music. An increasing number of people are doing a better job of explaining that reality than I ever could.
Yeah but why all the rigamarole? Why make people ask for this new record?
Because it’s the only genuine “opt in” method I’ve come up with so far to offer my music to people. Meaningful connection with art begins with choosing which art we encounter. The algorithms are slowly eroding our ability to make those choices. Actively choosing what we want to give our attention to is an act of resistance.
Democracy is collapsing. Grave threats to humanity surround us on all sides. Meanwhile, you’re making records and complaining about Spotify. Aren’t you just fiddling while Rome burns?
Yes.
What happens when you google “Picnic in a Landfill”?
It gives you a helpful warning. Thanks, Google!
Was “Picnic in a Landfill” recorded at home?
It was. I needed to make something by myself with the gear and recording skills I already have. I take a soupçon of hope about how its imperfections might age from this poem by the great Kay Ryan:
POST-CONSTRUCTION
Who knows better
than the builder
not to trust
a structure, where
it’s off kilter,
how too few
rafters bear
too much roof?
And still it
may stand, proof
against craft,
strong as though
ghost ribs
had been added
after one left.
I didn't see it coming but that poem got me.