A few days work has passed. And what can be said of it other than one starts to feel an eerie sense of having been somewhere before. With that comes the inevitable questions: 'How did I get here?'; 'Do I want to stay?'; 'What matters anymore?'; questions made harder to answer because Album #1 is on the runway.
Sure, we feel confident about it. And I can tell you that the state of the record business is such that any success is both fantastic and just as capable of eliciting a yawn. An effect smart pundits have long described without themselves having to go through the process of making records for a general public who generally no longer wants them. Case in point: we, Jeff and I, *are musicians because we *enjoy making music. Strange, a'int it?
"Just do what you want," fans tell me. But honestly, what the fuck does that mean? Because what I really want to do is play whatever I want when I want, and record whatever I want when I want. And if you can think back that far, that is the career (there's that word again) that I set up.
I do, now, more than ever, applaud those artists getting it done; even if I should disagree with their body politic. For I miss hearing a record that makes me step back and go, 'holy shit, where did that come from?' There is a lot to blame: the rise of the audience vote, the rise of computers, the rise of nothingness; or Satan even. But mostly I blame myself for not being grateful.
I'll skip though saying thank you, as in y-o-u. So instead: all thanks then to God, as in G-o-d.
I'm the one who refuses to see what I don't like. I'm the one who refuses to call a snake a snake. 'Cause I'm the one who wonders, like the song, 'who am I, and how did I get here?'
My name is William. I play, have played, and will play in a band called The Smashing Pumpkins till the day I die; even if it's only in my mind. The ideas, the personas, as evident by now, are synonymous. And despite my acting duff about it, I am plagued by that which I cannot control. What is antidote to that? To stop, to quit, to give up.
DAY FOR NIGHT, the album, is best I can tell thus far going to be about that refusal to stop. It is about the acceptance of autumn, and the small kernel of hope we place with Diana, and spring. Or Persephone, and her magical seeds.
For life, you s-e-e, gods and goddesses, goes on without y-o-u if you let it. And I (there is but one way to claim I) am testament.