It started out as sort of a joke. I figured if the art I make is never going to touch anyone I don’t know in any meaningful way, if it’s never going to make me any money, or get me health care, or keep me from having to work a shit job, well, then who cares how it’s received by strangers, right? No point worrying about it. So I started making bespoke voice memos for people I care about, covers of songs I knew they would enjoy, in a lo-fi, bootleg medium I enjoy. Sara and I sang snatches of this in her old driveway, last year, before she got in her car and moved across the country. It was another sad parting in a long line of sad partings, and that little bit of joking Jewel made it a bit more bearable. So when she reminded me of that moment, many months later, I recorded this for her on my phone, texted it to her phone, and that was that. But it turns out I like it, this joke, earnestly and unironically. I really like it. Embarrassing, I know. So I threw my embarrassment into ableton, slapped some compression and reverb on it, and now we’re here. What do I do with it? No fucking idea. Who’s it for? Sara, initially. Me, eventually. And now, if you’re reading this, you. Hey you. All my wondering about where these things belong was a backsliding waste of time. I answered that question years ago, with the bindle. Silly. It belongs right here.
a Jewel song