CRITICAL MASS HYSTERIA! (1978-)

Compadres,

I’m not going to belabor this point, but I’ve missed Tumblr, and you all! I’ve had to engage Twitter a bit more lately, only because it feels more on-the-go. And I’ve been on-the-going. I take blogging more seriously than I do Twitter, and I think that’s how it’s supposed to be.

Things are good, things are cool. Lots of creative mojo in the air. Forgive me if I redundantly speak of anything I’ve mentioned before in another blog. And I don’t want to boringly culture myself to write everything in a “life after rock band life” kind of way. In my mind, I’ve got a finite time with which to reflect… gotta embrace the now, gotta embrace the future. But 60 days out, I think a little bit of reflection is still ok and healthy; it’s all certainly still visceral to me.

Even this week, I had another enormous realization that The Elms is truly over. Of course it saddens me, but it also makes me so very proud of all we created together. I’m getting (uh-oh) more humble. I think that as an instinct, many bands would probably laud their business or public achievements if asked to quantify their accomplishments. But right now, if somebody asked me to tell them about what our band accomplished, I wouldn’t talk about worldwide touring or major label records or public accolades in the press. I’d say, “Well, listen to this.” And then, I’d play them “A Place In The Sun”, or “The Towers & The Trains”, or “Let Love In.” The output. That’s what I’m proudest of.

You know, for ten years, there were a million reasons for me to be resilient while endeavoring in a rock band. I had to employ a certain hubris to orchestrate things for The Elms. I had to to make sure deadlines were met, to make sure the band’s business relationships were candid and solid, to make sure that there was relentless commitment to the cause, to make sure that the creative output was high-quality and consistent, and to ensure that nobody in our camp was knowingly taken advantage of. I’d gotten super cozy with stress. It was an ever-present, intimate part of my life… one that manifested itself physically many times. I can remember one stretch of time last year — months — where my neck and shoulders felt like they were on fire, all day every day. If not for the fact that I’m completely disinterested in co-dependency, I probably could’ve convinced myself that a regular relationship with Percocet or Oxycontin would’ve been understandably appropriate and functional. I mean, sometimes you just wanna sleep, for God’s sake, shut down. And, I had bottles of the stuff laying around from getting my wisdom teeth pulled. But, Heath Ledger had passed away around that time, and I thought to myself, “This is how it starts. Don’t let that be you.” So, crisis averted.

Now, with The Elms in the rearview, I find that I’m getting affected by things that I haven’t in a long time. My heart is getting mushy again. This is proving to be one of the most interesting parts of the decompression process from the end of my band. I’ve mentioned it before in another blog, I think. I’m seriously shocked, and maybe a little joyful, that there are vulnerable feelings emerging in me that I haven’t nurtured in quite some time.

Maybe we all get heartbroken or traumatized the same way when life doesn’t transpire the way we thought it would. More specifically, when our “Plan A” doesn’t become fully realized, whether that be in career, romance, passion, etc. I mean, if you asked me anytime in the last 10 years, I’d tell you with assurance that being in The Elms was what I was BORN TO DO. Well, when your “born to do” scenario dissipates, where does that leave you? Displaced? Alone? Wandering? No.

In these moments, many people resort to their “Plan B.” They go to the contingency, like there was only one solitary way they were meant to see their gifts used to full fruition. But may I suggest, for discussion’s sake, that instead of resorting to “Plan B”, you simply go to “Plan A.1” — that is to say, find a new vehicle for the passions, the skills, the purpose that you found in your ideal situation and re-direct them. The skills are yours for a lifetime. You can nurture them, or allow them to languish and go stale. Sometimes life comes at us with speed and circumstance that we can’t control or understand. And when plans go awry, you get hurt. You go into self-preservation mode.

But the greatest tragedy of self-preservation is not when we lament that our ideal future has been compromised. The greatest tragedy is when we get frustrated enough to allow our God-given gifts to go dormant just because life didn’t unfold according to “Plan A.”
 
You gotta snap back. You open your eyes and your heart. You put your feet, the same ones you’ve always had, onto a new road. You build Plan A.1.
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These days, I’m captivated by filmmaking, and am doing it more and more. I’ve got multiple visual projects on the burner, and was even discussing some very ambitious ideas with a friend yesterday. 

My feelings about musical creation at the moment are like one of those signs on a barbershop or restaurant door that reads “BACK IN A LITTLE WHILE.” In all honesty, I think that the idea of creating original music outside the construct of The Elms just isn’t that interesting to me yet. Getting into a studio, making a record, release and promotion, all just seem a little, “meh.” There was always an enormous amount of work that The Elms brought me, but rarely did the creation of music ever feel like a job. That, and the live element, was always the escape. During the early parts of this year, while everything was intensely real regarding The Elms’ final days, I stockpiled 150 songs birthed from the most vulnerable feelings of my life. So, the songs are around, waiting. Don’t worry, my songs don’t get impatient. They don’t mind hanging out for awhile.         

Oh, and regarding The Elms’ final show DVD (which I get many emails and DM’s about): short of simply viewing the source material (which is unbelievably cool and touching), we’ve had no time to really get cracking on it all in an editing and mixing sense. This project is a priority, which is why we haven’t tackled it yet. Huh? Well, we’re not going to immerse ourselves in the creation of the film until we can do it with some ferocity. Maybe we’ll get a chance to sink our teeth into it over upcoming holidays.    
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HOME STRETCH: So, I’ve begun working on multiple creative levels with a new modern country band. I won’t mention their name yet, it seems a bit weird to do that… but if your eye is keen, you’ll make a connection. My role is equal parts vision, imagination, and implementation of ideas on all perceptive levels of the band’s presentation. And it’s a ton of work, the good kind, both creative and diplomatic. I’m on the road often, and when not on tour I’m in editing bays and recording studios pulling everything together. I exercise many of the same purposed neurosis that I did in The Elms. It’s global, and it’s fun. They’re a good young band, and are built of the right stuff. And no, I do not wear a 10-gallon hat and Wranglers. I’m me.     

Thom, Chris, and Nathan are all busy as well, with musical endeavors and otherwise. I saw Nathan and his wife a few nights ago for dinner. Chris and Thom are doing fantastically, and I’ve gotten a chance to hang with them both in the last few days, too. We’re all so lovingly close. But the nature of life these days is that we’re a little less on the redphone to each other… a few days will pass, and before you know it, you’re missing your homeboys. Then, when you do talk, you’re “catching up.” There’s a distinct difference between being an active part of someone’s real-time consciousness and “catching up.” Thankfully, we’re so intertwined mentally that many things don’t need to be explained. 

As I read back through this blog (for the 50th time), I realize that there might be a slightly melancholy tone cascading around these words. Please don’t misinterpret these writings as those of a guy who is in lamentation over the ending of a cause he shared with his closest friends for the last 10 years. It’s just reflection. It’s a wonderful, beautiful, and (at times) sad thing to have to do. There are wildly creative and excellent things happening around me, and I truly feel a new, redirected sense of urgency and passion in my life. I’ll always look back over my shoulder once in awhile to remember how important and lovely everything about our rock band was. And when I do, I’ll get emotional, I’ll remember all the best parts of it, all the amazing things that I can’t believe four buddies got to do together. That will never end.

The other day, I finally got the shorted-out input cable for my iPod fixed in my Jeep. And got my oil changed. And got a haircut (one of my favorite things to do, twice monthly if possible). And sat on the top of the dryer playing Words With Friends while my laundry went through. I had a cookout with friends in Indiana, and shot film of sunsets to time-lapse. The little domestic moments feel like tiny vacations, like they always have. 

Because of creative work, I’ll be on the road much of the year, and it’s highly likely that I’ll be somewhere close to where you live. If any of you are interested in a hangout of some sorts, follow me on Twitter and I’ll keep you posted — then send me a note if/when I’m rolling through your area. There may not be time for drinks, but certainly enough for a hug and a high-five. Let’s try.

Love to all of you, more soon.

K.O.K.O.
Owen

My Twitter here.