Waking Up

Somehow it’s the middle of July. The passage of time is an awful thing to ruminate on for too long. Senator Lindsey Graham died last night (I always confuse him with one Mitch McConnell, another senator seemingly at the edge of his life), and as I went to bed, I was imagining the chaotic scene at the White House and on Capitol Hill, a flurry of communications blasting through the American political ecosystem, the kind of scrambling which takes place after the sudden death of someone with enormous power. The passing of someone a vast swath of the American population despises can be confusing. I personally don’t find joy or relief in any death (or haven’t yet, at least), and whether or not one sees Mr. Graham in a positive or negative light, one must acknowledge the longevity of his political career and the robustness of his presence in the modern political landscape. There are key political actors of a generation or two whose mortality is staring them down with intensity, folks who helped shape and build the world we live in. They will all go in my lifetime and there will be new blood. One by one, every adult in the room is eyeing the exit sign and soon we will be left to figure it all out ourselves. I wonder what kind of wisdom will die with them? I wonder what kinds of outdated or harmful ideas will die with them? I guess we will see. 

My third record came out in May. I booked and played a string of DIY shows with the help of some really good people, and then performed with a full band on the night of the release here in the city. The very next week, I began working on my apartment in an effort to forge a more desirable home life. I bought a plant. I organized, rearranged. It all happened so fast. I guess I was tired of feeling like a teenager who happened to live alone in a studio apartment. There’s more work to be done. We’ll get there. I’ve since lost interest entirely in both promoting Loved and Lost and also in building and maintaining a listener base. I’m grateful for every ounce of support sent my way this year. Seriously. I am really proud of Loved and Lost and grateful to have seen it through. But I’m forward facing now, and so much lies ahead.

One of our managers at work went down with a broken leg, so I stepped into a full time management(ish) position and have been working like a madman. At the very same time, I said goodbye to a long-lasting and deeply complex romantic relationship in my life and have been processing that the best I can. It’s not a relationship I’m inclined to share about in great detail here, let alone with anyone outside of my immediate circle. I’ll just say this: It’s funny how things take as long as they take. Somehow, there is a deep knowing inside when something like that has reached its end. This person appeared during a chapter that has since been written, edited, and left in the preceding pages of my life. She loved me in a way no one ever has before and I am devastated while also aware that I will heal with time. It’s strange to be able to grieve something so intensely without losing it completely. I can’t say I’ve achieved such an accomplishment before, but I am truly engaged with the loss while also tending to everyday life and holding it all at once with as much grace as I ever have. For many years, when something knocked me down, I could not get up. I think maybe enough healing has taken place that I can get out of bed in the morning and take care of myself. She will be missed, and I know she will be more than fine. I should delete this paragraph. Not going to, though. 

I should add here that some time ago, I woke up. It happened in such an unassuming manner, I could've missed it had I not been paying attention. I'm not sure I've heard someone describe the phenomenon I'm attempting to, but my god–it is really something. It felt as though a thick fog hanging over my life for years had been lifted and I was so accustomed to the fog, I didn't know I was in it. I honestly think my consciousness expanded. I'll never know for sure, but I woke up this year and it feels good to be in the fresh air. I told my therapist recently, "I think I'm realizing life is really hard and I'm going to be okay." to which he remarked, "Mm that's really powerful Ashton. Can you say that again?" So, I did. Another instance was when I was shooting the shit with my dear friend, Dylan, and I blurted out, "I think I just realized that my dad's death took me a really long time to recover from. I'm pretty sure that's what happened to me. But I'm okay now." And really, there's a lot in there. I knew I was hurt, but I had no idea it would take me so long to find my footing after his passing. I felt stupid about how long it took me to recover. But then, only I know how complicated my relationship with my dad was. On top of that, I am a sensitive human being. I will always be that way.

i am waking up

to the man that I was

hoping i'd become

i don't forget my keys

no more and i'm happier

when you are here with me...

...Over the last few weeks, my next recording project has been percolating. Well, I should say it was simmering for some time beneath the surface and then hit me all at once, just like always. In the middle of my shift the other week: boom—it shook me. A real jolt. Thank You, I Love You announced itself and immediately felt as though it always was. Seven songs (for now), an EP. Some of these tunes are newer and a few are a little older now. The only important thing to say at the moment is that I’m producing it myself. I produced Eight Seven Five myself a few years back, but that was child’s play. Amateur. Earnest! Thoughtful! Interesting! But very demo-ish. No regrets at all, I just move forward. Always. I always move forward. So, Thank You, I Love You will be my first crack at a true professional, self-produced record. My life in music has been just fine so far, everything I’ve needed, each moment leading to the next, but I will say I’m tired of other people’s hands on my music. It’s nothing personal aimed at anyone in particular. At all. I’m grateful to everyone who’s held my work with care. But it’s time for me to take the next step and take care of the whole process from start to finish. My songs, my voice, my guitar playing, and my ear are all in the best place they’ve ever been, and I just feel ready to take a big swing. Crack! is what I’m hoping for in the end. 

I’ve started only two songs seriously thus far. Each one has required many, many hours of work. Listening intently to takes and never settling for anything less than my best. I used to be so fucking lazy. I know why that was, but I’m not gonna tell. But now, everything must be top shelf. It will take as long as it takes, I’m in no rush. It took me so long to get here, but I finally can say honestly I really don’t give a fuck about anything other than becoming the kind of man and artist I long to be. I don’t care who’s listening. I don’t care if anyone listens. I’m sure this sounds a bit radical or abrasive, but I have to be in this place. It’s one way or the other for me, there’s no in between. One of those things you learn to accept about yourself as you get older. I just can’t be bothered with Instagram and Spotify and playing shows and “putting myself out there” right now. I’m managing a restaurant, I’m grieving, I’m making music. That’s it. That’s all I have room for right now. I can tell I’m in an interesting place because the internet feels so fucking stupid to me lately. I can see how weird and gross it is that we’re all showing our lives and work off online and desperately hoping to be seen and liked by as many eyes as possible. It’s so fucking middle school. I just don’t care. I’m living my life. I should’ve trusted myself on this one a long time ago, but “everybody’s gotta learn sometime.” Trying to make it in music is a waste. I was right the whole time. Get yourself making undeniable music and the rest will come, I used to tell myself. Only now, I’m actually doing that. 

I saw Bob Dylan last month at The Greek. There was this guy standing outside after the show waiting for his friend. I recognized him right away, a songwriter peer of mine. I guess he had gone to the show both nights Bob was here. Anyhow, I was telling him I was unfamiliar with most of that night’s set and he was like, “Oh really? Those are, like, big songs. Are you a fan?” (Paraphrasing, but this was definitely the tone). I walked away and thought to myself, “I’m just too focused right now to be that big of a fan of anyone.” I’ve always been that way. In my mind, the only music I should be obsessing over is my own. There is such a thing as allowing too much noise in. I’m careful about what I give my attention to and I always have been. The songwriter peer—he’s a nice guy. I could’ve read the energy all wrong. Who knows. I’m just saying if I have a choice between going to a show or making music, nine out of ten times I’m choosing the latter. That’s why my catalog is as large as it is. I sacrifice a lot for my music. But it’s never felt like sacrifice. It just feels obvious—a little bug in my ear at all times: “You are wasting time you don’t get back. Lock in motherfucker.” I know how this reads. I don’t care. I’m an asshole. Well, we all are. I think maybe I’m a little less nervous to show that side of me. 

So, this is the update. For those who care. I’ll see you on the other side of what’s looking like my most ambitious effort to date. Bye for now.