I WROTE THIS ALBUM A FEW MORE TIMES THAN USUAL.

A version made it out the hard drive to the pressing plant. It sat there for about two months. Was almost at the front of the line ready to go. Then we hit stop. There’s a test pressing of it somewhere. Album cover. Roll out plan. All that. But it got scrapped. One day I just thought nah, this not it. Called my manager, gave her a little heart attack and she gave me back a new deadline. And I went back to work. 

Trynna make an album that's already finished is hard tho. Where do you start? Not at the start.

I asked a hero of mine (Ruban Nielson) how he did it (how he wrote a follow up album to his first one), he told me something along the lines of “I just did it again”. Good advice. Problem was though, I didn’t really know what I did the first time. And I’ve never been good at doing something twice. Even my mistakes I usually only make once. Then I find a new one to make. I get bored easily. I can’t focus. I'm typing this now with at least 20 tabs open, some loop playing infinitely in the background. This is when I’m most at peace. Perfectly distracted, just enough to focus. My sweet spot is somewhere in-between the noise, where I’m so preoccupied with the bullshit that I don’t consciously realise I’m getting shit done. 

I don’t like forcing shit. I can’t write for the sake of it anymore. I don’t have the time. I used to treat it like a sport. I’d hop on that treadmill everyday, bright and early, run 32 bars without breaking a sweat. But after this many years doing it, it gets harder to get inspired. The mornings feel colder, the fingers are frozen, the window of possibility is tiny, there’s not much left in the lexicon that I haven’t already rinsed. I need the element of surprise to operate. I can’t do my job if my audience sees it coming. So there really wasn't any way to outwork the writer's block. I just had to wait till it was ready to come. 

Problem is, I’ve got people depending on me now. I can’t afford to be a relaxed artist talking bout “time is just a construct”. I got seeds to feed. Every music documentary I’ve ever seen ends with a some sad woman explaining how her father wasn’t there growing up. I’ve never wanted to be that. I’m a good father. I’m a lot of things. I’m an arsehole. I’m a selfish prick. I’m an unstable, anxious wreck. I’m a moody stoner. I’m a lot of things. But I’m a good father and I say that confidently. So yeah, I felt the pressure that this album had to be a financial success. And that pressure might’ve been the reason I was blocked for so long. But eventually, routine takes back over, the days blur into each other, the noise gets loud enough to drown the voice in your head and you find yourself too distracted by everything to remember what you were worried about. Then somewhere between that, some good shit comes out, you look up and boom, it’s finished. You bounce the last track. Hand the thing in. And then you wait. Just sit around with your doubt. Watching your new ideas rot. It's the hardest part of the job. But that's the job. And usually, I can do that. As well as I can do that. 

But you add a global pandemic to the mix. And now you’re waiting half a year for the vinyl to get printed. There’s a fucking freight ship trynna three point turn in the Suez Canal with your record on it. You’re sitting there watching your sanity rot. Mould everywhere. Power bills covering note pads. Tax returns. Full nappies. Full climate melt down. Recession. Anti-vax Coachella outside The Beehive. I feel like the last two years aged me about 20. Those first few weeks of lockdown were nice and all. But after the sourdough settled, I felt like the whole world was baking bread against me. Isolated. Doing a lag in our little living room with two infant cellmates. Me and the love of my life resenting each other for how many more seconds of sleep the other one had had. I was self medicating a lot more than I probably should have been. Shit was hard. I can't lie. 

Here we are though. The album’s done. It’s Wednesday. I’m about to announce it.

I don’t think the next album will take 4 years. It might take longer (lol). It might never come. I might never write another album. My pen’s been kinda liking it on the screen play paper. Maybe I’m done with this act of my life. I don’t know. But this album is definitely done. And it’s out soon. And we're out. I can’t wait to take this thing on the road. New arrangements. New ideas. New-Years shows. All of that. Can’t fucking wait. For the people that have had my back all these years, this is for you. I hope this one still surprises you. I can’t really describe it without giving too much away. It’s different from the last one. Don't expect the same thing. This one's simpler. I had my bro Christoph El Truento at the desk for this one. We started out trynna add more to it. But we ended up trynna chip more off. We were trynna rebel from the last one. This one might be the most political thing I’ve ever written. But it’s not about politics, exactly. And it’s not as personal as the last one. Or maybe it’s the most personal. I don’t know. It’s a new one. 

I don’t want to give away too much. All I can say is it’s out, soon.  

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