PASSION AND VANITY RELEASE
"The dark side of the creative process"
12/07/2018
In December 2011, I first laid the groundwork for a project that would eventually become my obsession and nearly drive me insane. The foundation built back then eventually got replaced numerous times, but the fact it was first started so long ago only enhanced my maniacal obsession with completing it, as I just could not stop trying to cling on to some perceived mental state that must have driven me to get started.
(What is this all about?!? Click here)
After all, the seeds of creativity are difficult to manufacture artificially. To be genuine and original, it is important to (somehow) capture your own authentic whims of inspiration and fleeting thoughts, no matter how immaterial or incomplete or silly they may seem at the time. It is perhaps my favorite part of the creative process, getting to see a crazy idea that popped into my head over a span of 5 seconds turn into something real because I later ended up spending 50 hours of "work" to build off of those 5 seconds of magic. But in this case, planting the seeds so early would end up pushing me to the brink of madness.
This idea spawned in December 2011 first consisted of the aptly named "Attempt 1", followed soon by "Attempt 2" and "Attempt 3", aiming to capture three possible ways I might be able to create a musical project solely based off of melodic singing rather than screaming. (This really shouldn't be too crazy an idea, but to me it was... my November 2011 album "Diagnosis" with Iron Krill shows why) In all three cases, they served as the musical equivalent of "pilot episodes" capturing different possible genres and styles where this could lead. In all cases they were designed as female singing supported by music that incorporated some elements of metal but did not meet the criteria for being a metal song in the traditional sense.
Ultimately I guess maybe I just wasn't ready for that yet. I was still living in a college dorm room and perhaps didn't really have the tools - hardware or software or knowledge or time or personality or vision - to turn it into action. My next project was Iron Krill's "Prognosis" in July 2013, setting a new standard for the type of music I not only wanted to make but was also good at making. It may not have been a chart-topper but it is everything I ever wanted out of that style, or out of my "laptop studio," at the time. And five years later I may still rank it as my premier, defining musical achievement up to now. But it was not everything I ever wanted out of music.
Late 2013 and early 2014 saw a renewed interest within my mind in the project of Attempts 1-3, seeking to bring closure to that which was unfulfilled. Three new songs that ended up on the finished album came from this era (along with additional ideas which will eventually appear on Iron Krill's next release). But the inspiration all came to a standstill when I put my life on hold to get established in the "real world", suddenly disappearing only to abruptly message a few people in 2016 that I felt like I had just emerged from a coma. Having a real career all of a sudden was a good result, but having no music come out of that time period was something I couldn't live with. I had to restart.
Because how could I just dive back into the project of the "Attempts" like nothing happened? I had to train myself first. One of the reasons it took so long to get started is because the idea had already become sort of romanticized by then. Even starting any work on it was a mental hurdle because it meant opening up and making changes to this sacred treasure trove of ideas and I wouldn't want to forget or misinterpret any part of the thought process that first created them. It was like I saw myself as the curator of past ideas, afraid to actually create something new and real out of them because I might not construct them as they were intended.
In order to overcome this obstacle, I developed my "master plan" for the next 2 or so years in September 2016. Its first step was forcing myself to quickly create "Iron Penguin", released December 2016. The theory behind its creation was to utilize no "planning" whatsoever, instead spending all time on "doing." (Nothing was written; everything was recorded improvised / jam session style and then edited down to a massive 2-hour long instrumental album) This other project, then, would be easier for me to get back into the "doing" phase, once I've had more practice "doing" within my new schedule and overall life arrangement. This first step was not without its challenges either, though. I would end up literally taking time off work, taping over the cuts on my fingers to enable myself to keep playing, and rolling around on the floor yelling into a pillow at various points in this process just to avoid falling behind this first step in the “plan.” (If anyone is curious, my 2016 "master plan" was to do both of these albums, "Iron Penguin" as well as "Passion and Vanity," before resuming albums with Iron Krill)
Of course, as anyone who has ever had anything due more than one day away can tell you, the lack of imminent deadlines after this first experiment made progress slow. I tried inventing more artificial deadlines for myself for various milestones, and sometimes I even stuck with them, but it was still ridiculous to go through 2017 knowing that I had mentally budgeted it would be a project released "sometime in late 2018." Nevertheless, I continued the small battles. I would set aside entire days just to write/brainstorm new material, or just to "think." There was a lot of writing, rearranging, stressing and second-guessing well before I would even consider recording a single note. I knew there were much faster ways to create something out of nothing than this process I was following, but I was determined to see it through that way, almost as a test to see if it could truly lead to the best result.
This was all further complicated by the fact the entire project made no sense without a singer on board yet. I had really wanted it to be a true "collaboration," or at the very least for me to build off of her basic vision as opposed to just my own. At the same time, I knew that it's generally best to keep moving even if you have to change directions later, rather than to just stall and hope something happens. So I kept moving forward, blind, hoping to create a map in the process. Still, of course, it is a paradox to build up a progressively complete artistic vision while claiming that it will all just serve to support the vision and voice of someone else. Finally in late 2017, Tiana came on board and we released a cover of "Sahara" by Nightwish as proof. And I don't know that I could have continued as strong without her enthusiasm - while there was still a lot more to be done, including at times rethinking entire songs to try and match our combined "style" or "vision", it seemed natural at this point. We may have different ideas of long-term goals for music, but our vision for the album was much more similar than I ever would have thought.
And so when I finally closed out my idiotically long idea of "preproduction" in June 2018, the path to completion was still long ahead but it was exciting. A wild blur of recording and editing that even I don't understand followed. I've been so far removed from the idea of being in a "real band" that for my part I embraced that phase more as the producer than as the musician. Artistically, then, the chaotic progression of my thoughts towards the album mostly ends around that point, having been replaced only with excitement now that it had become real.
It's a weird feeling though, seeing finally released into the world a project which practically represents my life - a project which I may cherish and stand behind unequivocally but that I've also grown to resent over the years. Truthfully a part of me was starting to hate it for what it's done to me and for my constant feeling like nothing else can happen in my life until it's done.
That feeling in particular was one of the least logical results of the process: any time something would present itself more than a few months in the future, even if that just meant a simple one-day event or so, I would always judge it in relation to the album. At Thanksgiving one year, someone would casually make a reference to Thanksgiving the next year and I would panic at the thought that my plan involved me having the entire album completed by then but how far away I was. Something would get put on my calendar a few weeks out, and I would just stare at the date wondering whether I would truly be much farther along when that date arrived. The dates or the events never had anything to do with the album, but to me everything did.
I eventually changed my feelings about the process and started liking it again, but I never stopped feeling like the album and I were enemies and that "working on it" really just meant resuming the fight. And so too, I myself became frozen in time, just an idea that developed slowly, waiting to be thawed and released while watching everyone else grow and mature and do their own real world projects.
Well that day of release has finally arrived; the battle is finally won. As of December 7, 2018, I would like to formally welcome into the world Passion and Vanity, the debut and flagship album of Iron Kitten.
Watch lyric video (full album) on YouTube
In fact, the album title is partially based off of the experience in creating it: there was a constant balance between the raw, "positive" passion of creating art and the futile, "negative" vanity of trying to prove myself. Ultimately though, the two words refer to the same thing.
"Am I making this because I am passionate about it, or because of vanity making me think it is good?" Again, there is no difference. Of all the paradoxes that appear in my music and lyrics, this one remains most prominent. I wanted to explore the shallow phrases and platitudes we have grown used to as a given even though they contradict themselves. But I digress. The point is, this album is the result of more passion and more vanity than I ever knew I had.
Of course, the album itself should not be demonized, nor should people around me feel any obligation to respect it. The problem was that I myself was guilty of both of those: both loving and hating something immaterial that couldn't love or hate me back. "If I quit, what does that say about me?" Nothing good, just laziness. "If I keep going and waste so much time on something that no one really cares about except me, what does that say about me?" Nothing good, just selfishness or narcissism. "If I put it on hold because no one else cares about it yet, what does that say about me?" Nothing good, just that I need others to tell me what to do. "If I keep going and finish it and it touches others, what does that say about me?" Well, that's good, I guess, but it still says something negative about me if I needed affirmation from others to keep going.
That's just how fundamental the problem was. And I suspect it is a problem with more than just this album, and more than just my music. Everything artistic can look bad if we think of it in terms of how it reflects upon us as the mastermind instead of looking at it on its own merit. There is a never-ending war between "not caring what people think" and "making an impact in people's lives", two influential ideas which are completely contradictory even though we like to pretend they can live in harmony.
I knew it was the wrong approach to obsess over it, but I also knew it had to be obsessed over to be genuine. This made every day a war, including each and every single day over the years where I did not work on it in the slightest, because I would sort of judge myself as a result and attempt to reevaluate how much I really thought the album meant to me. At times it was a lot, at times next to nothing, but when you consider how much time was spent just thinking about that question, you realize the answer is it meant everything.
Art is a mess. Spare a thought for all those you know who write, compose, and plan behind the scenes to create a vision yet who may not themselves be the star on the stage, on the screen or in the studio. They may know it is just a shot in the dark, and they may not need your affirmation, but their ideas are worth consideration if you judge it to be genuine.
I think I learned my lesson from this experience, and someday I will recover. But I know that for now the best course of action is to just keep going, to remember both the good and the bad to press on more effectively. This has all fit in quite well with the theme of the next album, about gaining perspective.
Iron Krill - "Treatment" - new album coming summer 2019