A year ago today I posted that I’d “finished an EP of five acoustic songs.” I was referring to my 2025 release, Acoustica, announcing that I had that “in the can,” as the patois goes. It’s a funny little expression, meaning that the final performances have been captured and the recording light is off; the project is now ready for the next phases, like post-production, mixing, mastering, etc. The expression’s origins go back to when recorded reels or film rolls were wound up and stored, literally, in a metal case—a “can,” if you will.

Today, I find that I’m getting closer to wrapping up another record—this one a full-length LP I’ll be adding to my modest-but-growing discography. I’m not quite “in the can” yet on this one. I’ve still got lead vocals to do on two songs, harmony vocals on two, and hand percussion on all of them. I’m hoping to wrap that all up in another two sessions. Then we’ll put a bow on it.

So much time, energy, thought, and effort go into these releases, even well beyond the obvious parts like writing the music and capturing the performances. There’s artwork to be created, copyrights to be secured, distribution to be set up… and all of this for an unknown independent artist with no reach. Imagine if the stakes were bigger.

But for the person behind it, with all that goes into it, it never feels merely like you’re just “releasing a product.” You’re birthing something, bringing something new into the world that means so much to you.

An artist in any medium needs to create. Not doing so leaves a hole—a tremendous sense of regret and a general feeling of incompleteness. I hate to sound so hippy-dippy, but I really believe that to be true. Music, more than ever these days, feels like my purpose in a real existential way. That says a lot, because outside of the obvious things like people, security, and health, it’s always been the most important thing to me. It’s the love affair that has always been strong, but just keeps growing stronger.