I've worked out of my house for over twenty years, so I'm well-versed in giving myself things to do. I doubt I would have done very well in my field if I wasn't self-motivated. And I'm used to spending lots of time on things that never see the light of day. So while there was the general existential dread of an airborne disease, I was at least built for the circumstances.

But I did want to think of something to share while we were all at home. After some thinking, I started the Hidden Hollow newsletter. I didn't want it to be about me in particular, though, so I used it mostly as a vehicle to share things I am a fan of. Namely visual art, music and books. And as a personal challenge, I wanted to include a song in each issue.

This EP is a collection from the first 6 months of that newsletter. There were 12 issues in total.

Musically, it began from experimenting with an open-tuning I'd never tried before, and I wrote all the chords and melodies over the course of a day.

The words came out a little later, after re-reading Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken". I have read it before, but it hit me differently this time. Perhaps I was more open to it because I so abruptly found myself on a road I have never imagined. But whatever the case, it got me thinking about other "almosts", or roads I nearly went down but eventually chose a different path.

I wrote the lyrics in one sitting, that same day, and sang them immediately after. So it all came out in a couple quick bursts, with my partner, Josh, being kind enough to come play the cello parts for me.

I gave myself 24 hours to finish this one. I sometimes put heavy constraints on myself so I don't overthink things. It can be a good way to clip that neurotic impulse to keep fussing with a piece of work.

I started this track with the drums, because I'd been listening to some hip-hop producers while painting and was enjoying the drums in particular. Then I scribbled down the main guitar riff and started recording. I sometimes really enjoy recording without a plan. It's like the audio equivalent of doodling.

Lyrically, this one is about how much depression can warp the way you see the world.

I wrote this song specifically after reading about memories and how we rewrite them every time we revisit them. They're not as reliable as we believe, and that's where the title “More Clay Than Stone” came from. The rest of the lyrics spread from there and, to my own surprise, took an optimistic turn. I started thinking that if my memories are going to change anyway, why not make them something a little better?

But the parenthetical half of the song title came about in a funny manner. I was working out the vocal melody, and the ending of each section sounded very familiar. But I couldn't put my finger on what it was. And then it clicked. The melody was something I'd already written.

“We're On Our Way” see the album "The Bastards" uses the same melody in certain sections. Since I can't get into trouble for copying myself, I decided to keep it. And since that was a song about moving from a bad spot to something better, it paired well with this song's subject matter.

And according to modern platforms, it's too short to be considered a song. I like to think that means it doesn't exist.

I used to dread the process of moving, but like anything you do often, I started getting good at it. So this is a pretty optimistic tune, I'd say.

Musically, the major influences were some old Bossa Nova compilations, French pop music from the 60s and the theme from “The Reading Rainbow.” An odd combination, but that was what I was listening to a lot while drawing.