Indebted to Blue

Sometimes I get frustrated that my depression and anxiety have fueled, and continue to fuel, a lot of my songwriting. As much as I want to use my life to spread positivity, the negative feelings are often the ones I feel the need to express and expel. And I think that’s okay. But sometimes I crave a new muse. And I think that’s also okay. My mental health affects a lot more in my life than just my music. Most of the time, they are the opposite of useful and the opposite of inspiring. Depression and anxiety one hundred percent suck, and I don’t want to romanticize them. They are not creative superpowers, and I wholeheartedly believe that inspiration doesn’t require pain and creativity doesn’t require suffering. There’s something valuable about the idea of turning your pain into art, into making lemonade with the lemons in your brain — but it’s also good to remember that lemons aren’t required. You can also use sugar, and apples or oranges, or whatever else you’ve got, you know? Still, I can’t help but wonder what kind of art I would make if I didn’t feel pretty crummy a lot of the time. Would it be far better? Or would it be worse — is my art indebted to blue? Is the person I am indebted to blue? Is the fact that I’m an artist at all indebted to blue? Rain falls and flowers grow. Do we, and does the world, need sadness? Is all beauty, all life, all color, indebted to blue? This album continues to ask those questions, but it also starts to break away from them. To look ahead, instead of just backward. To look outward, instead of just inward. I sing about demons, and fear, and overthinking, and loneliness. I also sing about a spelling bee, a peach tree, tattoos, cold weather, and a kid making art with sidewalk chalk. It’s anything and everything, pieces of me and pieces of the world I witness, all wrapped up in a little over an hour. If one person has a positive experience listening to one song then I will be happy. It comes out a week from tomorrow!