Ya’ll…   Famigails, it’s that time of year when we wrestle with the paradox of art and affirmation that is Spotify Wrapped.  I’m not saying it’s a negative collision of concepts…it’s just funny.  That’s all.   We certainly don’t think about metrics when we’re adjusting the mic another half inch closer to the piano hammers…no wait, a half inch back.  What if I played a minor 7th instead?  What if Jennifer leaves out the major third on the 5 chord on the B section of verse 2?  The creation and fulfillment of art to us isn’t tied to the destination of the art.   Maybe I’m an old soul – or just old – to believe the art is made from – and for –  the expression of or reaction to things not easily communicated.  …of topics or shadows too familiar or equally too unknown to craft for any specific audience other than the artists themselves alone at a piano at 3am or in their art room surrounded by countless colors, canvases and potential.

I am honestly surprised when we discuss track order or cover art after months of living into chord progressions and harmonies.  Mixing engineers that roll their eyes when we suggest a 2 DB drop in the bass note at 4:27 just before the bridge.  (We’re so sorry)  The creation of music together becomes a sweet vacuum of delicious detachment that the ‘gathering of’ and ‘putting on an albumnessmement’ is jarring because the process of birthing songs is its own self contained reward.   I have so many unfinished songs that I can get delightfully lost in the simple mystery of songwriting.  …with no real thought to when they might find a home.  (looking at you Kate Pillsbury)

What am I saying?  Great question.  I no doubt sound like a pretentious ass.  (you didn’t have to agree so quickly) I’m attempting (perhaps failing) to say that we are grateful for the ‘smack in the face’ reminder that these numbers bring.  It’s tempting to say ‘we’re not about the numbers’ in this industry – while being entirely about the numbers.  This is one of those subversive moments that slip under the radar of my skeptic  jadedness.   That’s right!  Holy shit.  People listen.  Thank you.  You weren’t in my line of sight or artistic periphery when writing these songs; but now that we ushered them out of the nest, you found them.  Huh.  How do I always forget that.  For today, we are all about the numbers.  Humility be damned.  My ego is going to pour (another) glass of something aged and perhaps double oaked.  Trust me – twice-barreled bourbon is something you didn’t know you were missing from your life.

Thank you for listening.  No, really.   What a tender and precious thing to be made aware of.  We know that Beyoncé’s assistant’s dog groomer’s accountant wouldn’t even wipe their shoes with these numbers.  But somehow it’s all relative and this makes us smile when there is much to oppose reasons for smiling.

It’s easy to live in a bubble in 2022.  Art can exist in bits and bytes and lives on server farms run by robot overlords in Texas.  …I assume it’s Texas.   Anyway, you have made our day.  Give or take a year or more.  Connecting over music is something magical that I hope to never figure out or understand.  It’s just too magical.  …but for tonight, I’m glad the algorithms did.

We really love you.  Really.

-Annagail