Change, Participation and Why I’m Here

Hi and welcome to Always Singing.

This is going to be a place where I write primarily about music and songs and things of that nature, but today I want to write more specifically about change - how I am changing, how it feels like everything is changing. My own participation in this space, while both exhilarating and terrifying, also suddenly feels required and unavoidable. I know it’s going to help me continue to change in the ways that I want to.

How exactly am I changing? Well, I had to trick myself into posting last week - but I did actually do it. I “started” this Substack back in 2022 when I gave it the name “Always Singing” and claimed the page, but I didn’t write my first post until last Friday - which was almost 3 years later!!

I’m not trying to give myself too much of a hard time here - in fact it’s just the opposite - but why did I wait so long? Well, fear for sure - and lack of time, absolutely. My reasons for doing it now I’m sure have something to do with the horrifying nightmare we are enduring and this increasing sense of “do-shit-now” urgency breathing down my neck. But I think it’s actually more about the culmination of years and years of hard work, self-examination, grief, therapy and probably also the constant stirrings of perimenopause, if I’m being honest. 😂 😭

I think I’m just really really tired of pushing my own feelings and thoughts down into this bottomless pit of GUNK that I carry around. When the weight starts to feel too dire, I try to grind the gunk down to a fine powder. I blow hard on this newly created pile of dust/powder and it scatters and blends indiscriminately with everything else floating around in the atmosphere. It’s a grand attempt at disappearance, but guess what? It doesn’t work. It all just seeps back in to my skin and being and the process starts all over again.

So, I’m writing this, mainly to show myself that I’m not going to do that anymore. That I will take up space, willingly and gratefully. That I write. That I am a writer. And I actually really enjoy writing, so there’s that too! It’s scary for me to say this kind of thing publicly - admit this kind of self-doubt - but fuck it - it’s the truth and I suspect I’m not the only one who feels this way. I’m really good at getting all kinds of other things done. I’m going to get this done too.

The title for this newsletter “Always Singing” comes from a line in my song “Born At The Disco” from my most recent album of the same name. The song is a snapshot of me as a little kid trying to make sense of the world around me and really just wanting someone to pay attention, I think - and how I found those things in records and music.

You were born at the disco
Plastic headphones in your ears
You born in the music
Some things never get to be clear
Like this

You were born in the magic
After school radio haze
Closed the door on the absent
Memorized words and plotted ways
Such bliss
Like this

I just wanted you to love me
Singing “Guilty” into the stereo
Swinging me upside down
Singing, always singing

You were born at the disco
All alone with your thoughts
Walking through every doorway
That didn’t mean to do you harm
Like this

Did I sing the Barbra Streisand/Barry Gibb duets from the Guilty album with my older brother when I was seven-ish into tiny microphones that plugged directly into his stereo over and over and over again? Yes, I did.

Did I come home after school every day of second grade and put on Olivia Newton-John’s Physical album and sit on the floor in front of the same stereo and pore endlessly over the LP jacket and sing along to every song? Every single fucking day!
(Please watch and listen to this song, you won’t be disappointed!)

Did I drag the stereo set up into the garage with an actual microphone (I don’t know how we got a microphone but we had one at some point), and sing in there because it sounded AWESOME? (reverb!) And did I sing my little heart out when no one was home? Guilty. Pun intended.

Did I listen to the Weekly Top 40 (both Casey Kasem and Rick Dees) radio program faithfully every Sunday on my little walkman with the orange foam headphones and write down every single song in a notebook and put check marks next to the ones I loved? And did I then save up my money to buy 45s of those songs at the local Ames department store? Yes, I did.

As a listener, music was (and still is) the primary way I made sense of my feelings. It provided a path to understanding those feelings and helped me see how this connected me to the world around me. Most importantly, it reflected me back to me in the specific way I so desperately craved. It told me it was ok to feel. That some people even made an art form out of it! It also inspired me to map out the ways in which I wanted to live my life.

As a songwriter, I find that it offers me many of the same insights and information. I learn so much about myself from the songs that I write! And I actually think I need that dialogue like water and air - I get lost when I’m not doing it enough. I know that my participation - here and in continuing to write songs - will lead to me to feeling less and less lost, because it always does. I seek clarity and love and understanding, as well as the strength and self-assuredness to use my voice. Just like the kid in that song. So that’s why I’m here.

Thanks for being here too.

A few things I did this week:
I got the 5 calls app yesterday (thanks Oldster!) and made five calls. I’ll do it again today.

I watched Season 2 of Mo and bawled my eyes out at the show’s depth of feeling and artistry. The final episode is maybe the most beautiful episode of television I’ve ever seen. This interview with Mo Amer (series creator) and Jon Stewart is definitely worth your time.

I finished reading Neko Case’s memoir. Man, what a force! I love you Neko - your honesty is such a gift. Your generosity of spirit continues to inspire me and I’m so grateful for you and your work.