It’s intriguing how our minds change, and the reasons for that change. Sometimes there are notable moments. Sometimes we only realize we’ve become different people when we look back over the span of years. In college, I started this band alongside several other responsibilities. Being in a punk rock band and working management shifts often led to
It’s intriguing how our minds change, and the reasons for that change. Sometimes there are notable moments. Sometimes we only realize we’ve become different people when we look back over the span of years. In college, I started this band alongside several other responsibilities. Being in a punk rock band and working management shifts often led to a sort of identity crisis. The two aspirations didn’t feel like a logical fit.
For years, I compartmentalized both avenues since I enjoyed them both, and the separate lifestyles received investment at separate times. But the further I get from my college days, the more this perspective strikes me as odd. New experiences tend to compete with both narratives of who I claim to be. Strangely enough, I wrote my thesis about punk culture, and how White suburbanites tended to move away from the culture as they began to work. As I get older, I wonder how many of us think we have make that choice. I think about the trajectory of such things quite often, and I question my confidence that a good life can be lived within those old containers.
I love this music. I love what I do outside of this band. Picking one to give my all seems unnecessarily sacrificial, yet pressure to submit to a singular identity is a regular encounter. Identity narratives are powerful, and probably unavoidable, used to build and validate boxes to challenge ourselves, to guide improvement, and to assess commitment. But when we don’t measure up, when we spill out of our commitments, I wonder if we’re too hard on ourselves. I often see our struggles demonized in those instances, and when self-loathing and denial follows close behind, some walls may be best torn down.
I project into the world differently with every record. Creative empowerment in early lyricism came from sorting through my own experiences.
Though you’ll still catch much of that on this record, I’ve stretched to welcome the uneasiness of writing external narratives. Several songs on the record stem from the experiences of friends or fictional protagonists. In some cases, I chose perspectives that I’ve not much in common. It may seem strange to write this way, but I believe how you permit others to feel can be as revealing as speaking from the heart.
I hope you enjoy Stalemate. The tracks are about the willingness to change our minds about ourselves and others, forgiving ourselves for not being ‘ourselves,’ and forgiving others for not being who we want them to be for our sake. Contradictions are a part of life. Not all of them limit our ability to expand forward.
For years, I compartmentalized both avenues since I enjoyed them both, and the separate lifestyles received investment at separate times. But the further I get from my college days, the more this perspective strikes me as odd. New experiences tend to compete with both narratives of who I claim to be. Strangely enough, I wrote my thesis about punk culture, and how White suburbanites tended to move away from the culture as they began to work. As I get older, I wonder how many of us think we have make that choice. I think about the trajectory of such things quite often, and I question my confidence that a good life can be lived within those old containers.
I love this music. I love what I do outside of this band. Picking one to give my all seems unnecessarily sacrificial, yet pressure to submit to a singular identity is a regular encounter. Identity narratives are powerful, and probably unavoidable, used to build and validate boxes to challenge ourselves, to guide improvement, and to assess commitment. But when we don’t measure up, when we spill out of our commitments, I wonder if we’re too hard on ourselves. I often see our struggles demonized in those instances, and when self-loathing and denial follows close behind, some walls may be best torn down.
I project into the world differently with every record. Creative empowerment in early lyricism came from sorting through my own experiences.
Though you’ll still catch much of that on this record, I’ve stretched to welcome the uneasiness of writing external narratives. Several songs on the record stem from the experiences of friends or fictional protagonists. In some cases, I chose perspectives that I’ve not much in common. It may seem strange to write this way, but I believe how you permit others to feel can be as revealing as speaking from the heart.
I hope you enjoy Stalemate. The tracks are about the willingness to change our minds about ourselves and others, forgiving ourselves for not being ‘ourselves,’ and forgiving others for not being who we want them to be for our sake. Contradictions are a part of life. Not all of them limit our ability to expand forward.
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Heartsick 3:180:00/3:18
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Lovestruck 3:130:00/3:13
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0:00/2:18
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0:00/2:54
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Classwar 3:020:00/3:02
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0:00/3:20
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0:00/3:05
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Strawman 3:170:00/3:17
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Fauxhawk 3:050:00/3:05
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0:00/4:15