Sometimes, the best kind of work is the unplanned one.
A few months after recording The Planned Child, Brendon called and asked if I wanted to drop by and record a few tracks — in less than twelve hours. Nothing planned, nothing expected, nothing forced.
Mind you, I had no material. None. I even had to arrange a babysitter and figure out how to get to the studio. Until that very morning, it seemed certain we’d skip the session and focus on finishing the existing album. I had poured myself completely into The Planned Child and emptied my pool of ideas. Record more music now? What music, and how? Just go in and play? But I’m usually so organized, so meticulous about every note that needs to be there. No, no — it would surely be a waste of time.
Or so I thought. Brendon put it simply: “Worst case, we have a few coffees and you play a few ideas. There’s no pressure to make anything out of it.”
He was right. There was no pressure, no attachment to any outcome. I came with an open mind and simply improvised the pieces you now hear. When I got back home, I was certain we had nothing — a practice session at best. But everything changed when I listened to the takes.
“Brendon,” I said, “I think we’ve got an actual album.”
He laughed: “Yeah, I felt it while we were recording.”
The absence of expectation, the rawness, the freedom — that’s what gave birth to this work. It became what it was meant to be: the unplanned child of a composer. A reflection of myself I did not anticipate to hear or see take form.
I hope you can dive into this music and sense the wonder with which it was created. And I hope, for myself, to stay unattached to outcomes — to enjoy the journey a little more each time.
