Releasing music is a weird thing to do. What should be a cathartic experience can quickly turn into severe anxiety and a hatred of the art you just poured days/weeks/months of your life into. For me, only a small portion of the time does this have anything to do with how it's critically received. I commonly find myself writing songs about how I process a very specific emotion or event that I am experiencing at the moment in a sort of stream-of-conscious self loathing party (usually after 2 bottles of wine). I then spend the next few days meticulously editing my thoughts via smarter words, better metaphors, etc, but as any standardized test taker can attest to, my raw, gut feelings usually win out and any edits go out with the bath water.
While that's all well and good, the following process of producing/mixing/mastering (along with other inevitable life commitments) can take months. As I like to be overly involved in every step, my mind abruptly stops thinking about what the songs say, and entirely about drum tones, vocal effects, low pass filters, and thousands of other strictly technical aspects of the music itself. Only after the send button clicks do I usually reflect on the overarching meaning of the part of myself I just allowed everyone I know to be a participant in.
But like most avid drinkers, I rarely want to commit to something I said while I was bent. It's not that I dislike how I said something (though I often do), it's that I'm not in the same place as I was in that moment, which is almost always darker.
That is why I'm very proud to say that for once, I'm in the same place as the art I'm releasing. I've recently been allowing myself to reject the internal conflict that I have to be above other people/objects/concepts in my life. For the first time since I started trying to rationalize my purpose in life, I am happy (to my best understanding of the word). I no longer care if what I say has been said before or if my ideas are inherently original. It's quite liberating.
“I Wear Glasses” is the lubricated vision of a could-be hookup with a strong, confident woman. It’s the moment you finally make a move and all the wrong, clichéd lines come out; the moment you lose all fear of romantic pastiche and just let shit fly.