I have a theory that in 99% of cases, music-artists feel at least a little bit disappointed on the day they release an album or during the first week or two. I’ve spoken to music friends about this before.
When a musician completes a new album, I’m quite certain they never think, ‘this isn’t my best work’. Everyone always thinks their latest work is their best and they’re excited to share. That being the case, there’s going to be some conception of what success for the album would look like. For some, the hope may be for the album to go to number one on the charts. For someone else, it may be more modest hopes for positive feedback. Between those poles, there are record sales, streaming numbers, positive reviews, concert tickets sold, awards nominations, etc. Reality rarely meets or exceeds the artist’s dreams. And in the streaming era, it often feels like the party is over a day or two after release. This after months or even years of passionate work.
Talking Honky Blues is my most successful album by all the conventional metrics. By far. It sold well. “Wicked And Weird” received radio airplay. The album did well in the press and showed up on a few year-end lists. It even won some awards! But I remember distinctly feeling disappointed in its performance. I hoped it would sell two or three times more copies than it did. I wanted more coverage, more recognition.
It can be soul-crushing to feel let down after pouring your heart and soul into your work. You want a new release to be a reason to feel good and to celebrate. In the worst case, your feelings of pride for your creation may be replaced by contempt.
After a succession of disappointments, I became obsessed with this problem back in 2008. The question became: what can I do to ensure that I feel 100% positive about an album forever? I meditated on the question. The answer I arrived at was quite extreme: make an album and then don’t release it. Do nothing. Seek no sales. Seek no press. Seek no response whatsoever. So that’s what I did. The album I made was called Dirtbike. And it worked. The joy I felt making the album was never diminished. The process was subsequently repeated three times.
From time to time I consider the idea of pressing the Dirtbike albums to vinyl. It still could happen. But there’s always a part of me that thinks, ‘Am I risking diminishing the joy?’ Would I be breaking a promise I once made to myself? I know I shouldn’t do it.
A time will likely come for Dirtbike 5. And 6…
If you would like to add the Dirtbike albums to your collection, I have a deal for you. For the next few days (as of May 15, 2025), you can get all four for the price of one on Bandcamp. Pop in.
Side note - there are actually two albums in my catalog the releases of which actually exceeded expectations. Any guesses? Comments open.
The stats provided to me by Substack have taught me that very few people who were sent notification about this post have read to this point if they bothered to open it at all. If you are reading this, I want to thank you and to offer some food for thought. In this day and age, ‘likes’ have become a meaningful currency or metric for many musicians. I’ve had friends express to me their excitement when one of their Instagram posts garnered a few hundred likes. Although it requires so little effort, it still feels like a lot to ask for. I’m not asking for myself but if one of your favorite artists posts a photo of a sunset they witnessed or a fish they caught, just go ahead and give it a like. It means more than you might realize.
Apropos of nothing: how friggin’ great was Andor? Did you guys watch that shit? What a gift.
Bonus: It’s a little-known fact that I was born with two heads. One was surgically removed shortly after I was born. I often wonder if the surgeons removed the right head.
I'll go ahead and comment on my own story here for anyone who happens to see it. The two albums that exceeded expectations were Vertex and King Of Drums. It's the same reason why for both - very low expectations. I didn't expect anyone outside of my home town to hear Vertex. I figured I'd be lucky to sell 50 cassettes. It went much further than that. And after disappearing for so long, I didn't expect King Of Drums to reach anyone either. As I explained before, my original plan for that album was just to share it with a few friends. I pretty much just made it for myself.
A few people guessed Man Overboard. I love that album and it did a lot for me but the success of Vertex made me start to have expectations. It's always best to have no/low expectations. There was also the fiasco with the vinyl and song about my mom being cut off. That bummed me out royally.
The moral of today's story is to expect nothing. Not an easy mindset to achieve.
A thing I’ve noticed over the years of Substack is that I often find myself reading it in my email rather than the app, which doesn’t allow the ‘like’ option.
It’s a small effort to open the app and hit the heart button but I am definitely guilty of not doing it. I try and go back and like the ones I miss but I imagine that actually goes into the theory you started this post with.
Me liking a post weeks or months later does not add to the day-of satisfaction. What do you think about this?
As far as albums, I feel like my choices would be centered on the albums I love the most rather than the ones that exceeded your own expectations. Hard to guess.