It’s been about a month since the Allen Stone sessions wrapped at Sound Emporium, and I’m listening back to rough mixes. They sound really good. A lot can happen leading up to a record’s release, now’s the time when label and management start weighing in, but I’m quietly confident - before any Industry can flex in a meaningful way, the music's gotta be kickass, and we got that part right. But it's strange. Listening back to the new material, I know I’m playing guitar, I know I co-wrote those songs, but it’s not me, in a way. Maybe I’ve grown callused over the years. I'm not jaded I don't think, but I've undeniably Seen Too Much. I don't expect the worst from people necessarily but I'm not surprised or unprepared when it rears its ugly head. This is a tough business.

Since the sessions wrapped, I’ve more or less returned to my usual routine of being an unknown schmuck, a beautifully risk-free reality where pushing comfort zones and making good art’s all that matters. Where am I going, how can I get there and who will I be at the end of it? Exciting rather than overwhelming questions. So, it’s back to rice and beans, touring in my Toyota Corrolla and challenging myself to just GO - wherever the wind takes me, a song waves hello or the best utility cheeseburgers are grilled.

I think I’ve realized that the guy I trust’s the disheveled cretin writing this at the Red Bicycle, free Lagunitas hoodie gloriously mustard stained, three cappuccinos deep in a bouncy castle of self-doubt. I like this guy. The gimp playing in front of hundreds of thousands in Hyde Park, smiling back at me via social media in photoshopped, black and white headshots? Not so sure about him. What’s he done, other than put gummy bears on the rider? I guess I’m still trying to figure that out.