Life during the lockdown and one finds oneself turning to the online world for community, support, and solace. The pandemic is a global phenomenon after all, and it would seem by the swell of blogs and posts on social media that millions of people the world over are doing the same. Social media explodes with information, disinformation, misinformation, distraction, and instruction.
One of the most shared posts by the online artistic community tells me ‘use the pandemic and the new reality to write that song, that novel, that screenplay you’ve always wanted to’ but this merely serves to impose a feeling of guilt -after all learning to adapt to the restrictions is difficult enough without the added pressure of trying to summon the muse and create new music.
What if I have no new ideas at my immediate disposal to inspire new tunes or fresh ideas to share with other musicians, let alone an audience?
I can always pinpoint the moment when an art form grabs me. Whether it has been music, film, or literature, I have always had that clear, definitive moment that made me fall in love. My love for each of these art forms came together when I created Bleakhaus.
I started my music journey at fourteen in mid-2014 playing small coffee venues with my ukulele and guitar. In early 2017, I began to grow tired of my acoustic guitar and ukulele. I then moved on, and I started writing “I Can Actually Speak.” The album portrays a lot of things bunched into one that happened between mid-2016 and up until the end of 2017. I endured failed relationships and projects, moving out really young, and realizing how awful human beings can be. This is where the harsh beginning of “I Can Actually Speak” starts.