“Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets.” - Arthur Miller
I didn’t set out to write a depressing record. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever set out to write any particular sort of record. I didn’t intend for this album to be such "a downer"; but I’m glad I it is. I think I needed it to be.
When I was 16, I would sit in my 1987, sky blue Dodge Diplomat, lean the seat all the way back, find the perfect balance between my stereo, cassette tape adapter, and Sony Discman, and cry my teenage eyes out listening to Miller’s Angels by Counting Crows. I’m listening to it right now, and I still have no idea what it's about, but man, it takes me back to that old car.
There’s something about music that opens me up. Old Hymns are where I'm safest, Sigur Ros is where I feel the closest to God, and Counting Crows is where I feel the saddest, but in a good way. I am realizing that ever since I was a kid, music has been the only place I allow myself to truly feel things. To this day, whether I’m listening to it or making it myself, music really is the best therapy. I can say things in a song that I would be too embarrassed or afraid to say otherwise. Music is sacred and safe to me, because it is art.
Art doesn’t have to be strong. Art doesn’t have to put up a front. Art doesn’t have to pretend it’s got it all together. Art can do whatever it wants to, and that’s why people love it. That’s why I love it, at least. And through art, I don’t have to act strong when I’m not. I don’t have to have it all together, or put on pretense.
The Right Regrets is my attempt at vulnerability. It’s me admitting that I’m weak, and I need help. It’s my confession that I don’t have it all together. It’s whatever the opposite of “putting up a front” is. I hope you like it.