I started my music career in 2005, well after Napster cratered the industry. This makes me kinda crazy. I had no money, resources, connections, or even experience. This makes me kinda dumb.
Buoyed by a maniacal work ethic and blind faith in my songwriting, I began each day hopeful that a little talent and a lot of work might lead to success. Then, I did that every day for 20 years.
In that time:
–Piracy crippled physical sales
–Tech companies seized distribution and reach
–Streamers shifted the paradigm for fans (while paying artists $0.003/stream)
–Social media transformed our lives, prioritizing negative media, and making us miserable
–Spotify moved to a pro-rata model, which funnels everyone’s streaming royalties toward the top 1% of artists
–A global pandemic waylaid the touring economy from clubs to arenas.
–Social platforms became pay-to-play, filled with ads, bots, spam, and “virality” now false and bought.
–AI music saturated the marketplace
To recap: first, they took money from musicians; then, they took control from musicians; now, they’re taking music from musicians. If an industry can be a microcosm of its culture, our lives are flooded by the craven, cynical, unhuman, and inhumane.
And yet, I’m on Spotify, YouTube, and socials. I work hard on my music and I want people to hear it. This clumsy history lesson is not a whinefest, but a litany of what most artists already know and casual fans might not. We try everything we can to make music we love and share that experience with our audience. For those of us with limited resources, it’s a microscopic needle to thread.
Sometime last year, I also realized it's a game I can’t win. So I made my own.
Now the hard part: the stuff I don't say out loud.
As long as I can remember, I’ve struggled with loneliness. And as long as I can remember, music has electrified my soul. By 16, I felt so disconnected from my own life, only the artists I loved could deliver the message that got me to tomorrow: you are not alone.
I’ve spent the rest of my life trying to pay that back. (Or forward? I’ve never known the heart’s economy.)
I’m 43 now, which makes me old. I still work too hard just to get by. I have major depressive disorder and I’ve struggled with suicidal ideation. My health insurance is a card with “GOOD LUCK” scrawled in crayon. The time since I last toured an album (fall 2024) has been the hardest of my life. All this, aware that I’m the walking embodiment of privilege. I’d rather see a panther in my kitchen than another white guy with a guitar. Whatever insults you’re thinking right now, I promise I’ve said them to myself.
So: if being an artist is so hard, why the hell would I do it?
I’m an artist to connect with people. I’m an artist because it’s the best of who I am. I’m an artist because songs saved my life, or at least my will to live it. I’m an artist because music’s more than notes and words strung together–it’s magic. An alchemical reaction in the heart that unites us with the stars and each other.
Not to follow an algorithm. Not to buy fake virality, pay-to-play with ad spend, or clout-chase. Not to fuck with AI.
Self-expression may be this century’s lingua franca, but individuation is punished. If you’re tired of visiting 12 different platforms to stay current with an artist, I am too. If you’re tired of scrolling through suggested posts to see anything meaningful, I am too. If you’re tired of tech conglomerates constantly, actively distorting your relationship to music, I am too. If you worry that your access to everything has diminished your experience of anything, I do too.
Meanwhile, the wealthiest entities own our institutions, our technology, even our privacy. What do I have? I've got a car, a computer, a voice, a guitar, a little talent, a lot of work, and a website. Maybe that's all I need.
Who goes to artist websites? They're typically mausoleums of old pictures and tourdates.
I hope that my site is an exception–a place you bookmark, revisit, and browse as breezily or as deeply as you like. I view this as a long-term, ever-growing project, with a simple goal: to have *one place* where you can go to find everything you want related to my work. Most will be free & public. Members can pay whatever they want and get access to everything (or cancel their free trial every month–”The Hulu,” if you will).
I also view this as a promise: I’ll keep writing songs. I’ll keep playing shows. I’ll do it with my whole busted heart, free of cynicism, as long as I’m here. I’ll make mistakes. Sometimes I’ll look and sound like a mistake. I don’t have the money (or GAF) to feign perfection online.
If you like my music, I hope you continue to. If you’re just tired of the psychic drain that comes from access without connection, I'd love you to say hello. We’re in this together.
Still crazy, dumb, and forever in love,
CM
When you ain’t got nothing, you got nothing to lose. Abraham Lincoln said that.
I’d give what’s left to share a song with you. I said that.
Thank you, Chris, for writing this essay. Most people don’t know what the struggle is like for independent artists in today’s economy and how we got here. You have succinctly explained that.
I have enjoyed your essays and musical selections posted on your website and I hope that millions of others will too!
Keep being your honest, talented, and creative self!