syclm
BK—404
08–25–24
08–25–24
say you can’t love me
the first song i produced
‘syclm’ is the first song I ever produced entirely by myself.
I started it in February as a part of SF2 in San Francisco, and finished in May, sitting in a café in London, watching people run through the rain in their suits in what looked like mostly futile attempts to catch their train home.
I can see it so clearly in my head still.
I was sitting at a counter in front of this massive floor-to-ceiling window overlooking a paved courtyard — gray to match the sky. I myself was feeling drab: unmotivated and discouraged by the lack of success I’d experienced in producing music for the last 6 months.
Out of ideas, I decided to look through some old projects. That’s when I opened “syclm.” Immediately, the counter-melody and deep bass caught my attention. It felt nostalgic. Maybe because it was a project from the past, or maybe because that’s genuinely how it sounded.
I listened to it over and over and realized that I actually fucking loved it. And there were so many improvements I could make with everything I’d learned since I started the project.
So I dove in, and ended up bouncing the final version of the song before I left the café.
But it sat there on my desktop for almost 4 more months until I released it.
I can see it so clearly in my head still.
I was sitting at a counter in front of this massive floor-to-ceiling window overlooking a paved courtyard — gray to match the sky. I myself was feeling drab: unmotivated and discouraged by the lack of success I’d experienced in producing music for the last 6 months.
Out of ideas, I decided to look through some old projects. That’s when I opened “syclm.” Immediately, the counter-melody and deep bass caught my attention. It felt nostalgic. Maybe because it was a project from the past, or maybe because that’s genuinely how it sounded.
I listened to it over and over and realized that I actually fucking loved it. And there were so many improvements I could make with everything I’d learned since I started the project.
So I dove in, and ended up bouncing the final version of the song before I left the café.
But it sat there on my desktop for almost 4 more months until I released it.
***
I went to Europe that summer to ‘find my artistic voice,’ and left with the distant feeling that I’d failed. It was easy to look back on my shiny camera roll boasting 6 foreign countries and justify the time and money I’d spent to explore the world. But deep down, I wasn’t satisfied with any of the music that I’d made (even “syclm”).
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret it one bit.
But not because it was the right decision to go — in fact, it was probably the wrong decision. But it was one that I needed to make to learn this:
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret it one bit.
But not because it was the right decision to go — in fact, it was probably the wrong decision. But it was one that I needed to make to learn this:
*
If you’re feeling lost in life, you don’t need more money, more awards, or to travel to more countries. You just need to live in an apartment with morning sun, 10 minutes away from your closest friends in a walkable city, doing work you love that pays you just enough to buy a nice coffee.
*
For me at least, this is truth. And maybe it’s cliché, but I’m so grateful I was able to get lost enough to really find myself. To be really sure.
Because if I hadn’t fucked off to Europe for two months, wasting time and money looking for answers, I might have never left school and signed a year-long lease on a total whim.
But now I have a creative dev job that pays me well. I live with my best friend in a neighborhood surrounded by my favorite people. Every day I walk down to the waterfront of the golden bay, where I’m able to access a beautiful co-working space to write music and essays and make videos.
But I was still on the brink of understanding that, on having all of that, in early August when I returned to San Francisco for the first time to attend Buildspace’s final IRL.
I was listening to a song that had just released that day on a loop.
Because if I hadn’t fucked off to Europe for two months, wasting time and money looking for answers, I might have never left school and signed a year-long lease on a total whim.
But now I have a creative dev job that pays me well. I live with my best friend in a neighborhood surrounded by my favorite people. Every day I walk down to the waterfront of the golden bay, where I’m able to access a beautiful co-working space to write music and essays and make videos.
But I was still on the brink of understanding that, on having all of that, in early August when I returned to San Francisco for the first time to attend Buildspace’s final IRL.
I was listening to a song that had just released that day on a loop.
It wasn’t a popular song.
It wasn’t made by a popular artist.
There were a few flaws in the production, some imperfections in the mix.
But it was beautiful. With bouncing melodies and a bass that sounded like the sun rising on a cold, winter day. It was a song that just three days prior I had dug out of my abandoned projects and been overcome with a wave of nostalgia. It was a song that made me realize I was tired of waiting, of biding my time, hoping that the perfect solution would present itself. It was a song that made me realize that nothing is without flaws, is without character, is without a story filled with missteps and disappointments. It was a song that I decided to release anyways.
And on the 35th listen in the back of an Uber, driving into the city that was strangely beginning to feel like home, I realized that I had made a song that felt like something.
And I’m proud of this song still.
I imagine that it will always be my favorite.
***It wasn’t made by a popular artist.
There were a few flaws in the production, some imperfections in the mix.
But it was beautiful. With bouncing melodies and a bass that sounded like the sun rising on a cold, winter day. It was a song that just three days prior I had dug out of my abandoned projects and been overcome with a wave of nostalgia. It was a song that made me realize I was tired of waiting, of biding my time, hoping that the perfect solution would present itself. It was a song that made me realize that nothing is without flaws, is without character, is without a story filled with missteps and disappointments. It was a song that I decided to release anyways.
And on the 35th listen in the back of an Uber, driving into the city that was strangely beginning to feel like home, I realized that I had made a song that felt like something.
And I’m proud of this song still.
I imagine that it will always be my favorite.
The music is inspired by ‘Bags’ by Clairo. It sounds nothing like that song, I just love it so I decided I would make a song in the same key. The synthy structure is more closely inspired by ambient synthpop music like ‘Home’ by Resonance, and hella Grimes stuff.
The words “say you can’t love me” are about being in a ‘situationship’ with someone who’s seems objectively ‘right’ for you, but emotionally isn’t the person you’re supposed to be with. It’s about being terrified to break someone’s heart, and mourning the connection you’ve lost with someone by diverging from a romantic narrative.
click the picture at the top if u want to listen
ty for reading :]