A Week Of "Long Gone", A Month In Music City

Dear Reader,

I’ve had a record out in the world for a week now. My debut EP, “Long Gone”, a six-song intimate and sweet project I made at home with my friends is now very accessible for anyone to hear. This provokes something in me, I almost want to pull back the reins, to say, “STOP! That’s mine! Give it back!”. But is she mine anymore? She used to exist only for me, in my mind, only for my friends who created it with me, and then for a small group of people I shared it with. It feels like a violation of my privacy has occurred, yet I chose to share, and have been excited to share this for a while now.

To be clear, I’m so honored that anyone listens to this project. I’m touched by everyone who bought tapes. I’m grateful other people care; you always wonder if anyone will in moments like these. Even if no one cared, making the EP would have been worth it to me times one million, but still, thank you.

I’m just feeling vulnerable, it’s led me down a mental wormhole about the differences between releasing music to stream vs. to purchase, how streaming feels so much more exposing, how I would trust my music with anyone who would want to own it and how thoughtlessly it can be encountered otherwise. It’s made me think about my own streaming/purchasing habits, how often I’m having flings with albums on Spotify without establishing any connection as a fan, and how I can’t say I see that changing. (My best personal remedy is to buy music I love on Bandcamp, but I can’t afford to pay for every impactful album I access through streaming, so I only get to do this for some.)

Back to the point, I’m feeling vulnerable, which is mostly a result of living in a new city for a little over a month. I moved across the country on my own, to “Music City, USA” and I think releasing music so quickly after moving here has brought on an unending bout of homesickness. Hugs and hangs and food with my family and best friends—celebrating with the very people who made this record with me—is what I’m craving. It gets louder some days and just muffled enough the rest of the time. Instead, I’m here, discussing my music with people unfamiliar to me, most of whom are talented musicians themselves or industry-adjacent, and it’s felt scary as hell. This is good. It hurts, but I want this: to be forced to reckon with myself as a musician and artist; I need to wake up to the depths of my fear of claiming ownership of my art and my dreams.

Anyways, after all that, it’s been a week and I’m coming around to the idea of you, anyone, hearing these songs, and I have to say I love living in Music City. I’ve never been more artistically inspired than in the past month of living here. I haven’t stopped adding to my secret assortment of unreleased songs, so I know I’ve got more moments of vulnerable art-sharing on the horizon. Until then, I want to practice grounding myself in my identity, start playing shows, and practice boldness in discussing my art, calling my dreams for what they are.

Thank you for reading, thank you for listening.

Much love,

Taylor