A Song For My 50th
Today is my 50th birthday.
I’m marking the occasion by “releasing” an original song.
(I say “releasing” but really I’m just putting it on the internet and sharing it with some people I know. It’s 2019, after all.)
Here it is …
In the 20 years since music ceased to be my full-time job, music has continued to be a big part of my life. I’ve never stopped listening, playing, writing and recording. But most of the writing and recording is just sketches. Doodles. I very rarely finish anything original, much less share it with anyone.
In the last few months, though, I’ve been feeling particularly inspired. After a bit of rough patch, mental-health-wise (these things happen, it’s all good), I’ve been feeling more energized, creatively.
And at the same time, this milestone birthday has been getting closer and closer. Sometimes looming ominously. But mostly just making me think: “Wow, how the heck did that happen?”.
Or just: “Well, this is something new”.
This song is, I think, a result of these two lines connecting. A burst of creative energy colliding with a milestone birthday. Which is I why I thought I’d share it today.
The name “Defender” is an alias I toyed with 20 years ago. A moniker I could use to release all the solo material that never appeared. Until today, I suppose.
The song itself is about aging and the passage of time. Trying to hang onto a sense of vitality while aging gracefully (but not too gracefully). And how these things relate to creativity.
When I was in my 20’s and music was all I did, I had so many luxuries. I had time. I had permission. I had an audience. I had a record deal. I had a smokin’ band. But I didn’t have much life experience to write about.
These days, the exact opposite is true.
Like all music, the song is also about the sheer joy of sound and rhythm and melody. And reaching out, making yourself vulnerable and attempting to connect with other humans.
Speaking of other humans, it’s time for a few thank you’s.
First, huge thanks to my old Pluto partner Ian Jones for mixing and mastering the track. And for glossing over (as much as possible) my gross inadequacies as an engineer and musician. Ian, you made it sound better than I thought it possibly could.
Thanks also to Stephen Malkmus (formally of Pavement). I cribbed a line in the bridge directly from his excellent song Middle America, which (maybe) explores some of the same themes. But with infinitely more skill, of course. You should check it out.
Thanks also to the Dial-ups … for the jams, naturally.
And, of course, thanks to Hilary, for keeping the love and enjoyment of music at the heart of our home and our life together all these years. Music brought us together and music bonds us still.
Thanks also to my son Erik (a.k.a. Presto) for his creative passion and courage in putting himself out there. He reminds me often what’s it’s like to fall head over heels in love with music the way only a teenager can. And how incredibly fun it is to create with your own hands a version of the thing you love.
(Erik and I also share a birthday. Happy 17th, son!)
I also want to thank my son Markus. His ability to dance through life to the beat of his own drummer and greet every day with resilience and enthusiasm is constantly inspiring. If I can channel a fraction of his spirit, 50 (or 60, or 70) will have nothing on me.
Finally, thank you, friend. For being in my life and making it more rich, fun and interesting. For caring enough to read this. And for listening with an open mind and forgiving ears to this humble artefact, shared on this meaningful yet meaningless milestone.
I hope you enjoy it.
J
