Is This Even Worth Doing Anymore?
Announcing a brand new Harborcoat record, and wondering if albums even matter anymore.
It’s difficult for me to remember a time when I didn’t dream of making and releasing records. At some point in my very early age I fell head over heels in love with music and also felt compelled to create it. Sure, I wanted to play in front of thousands of fans and star in music videos. Yeah, I’ve dreamt of being interviewed by Kurt Loder, Tabitha Soren or David Fricke, and then naturally asked and answered my own questions while getting ready for school in the morning.
All of that took second place to making and releasing albums.
The magic of an album was, still is, palpable. Within that combination of art direction, liner notes, photography, the style of the band, and the songs, you could dissolve into an entire universe, 18 minutes a side. The videos and t-shirts and tour posters and the band’s public appearances were all built and curated from the look and sound of the record. I loved every aspect of it. It was universe building at its finest as far as I’m concerned.
The first album I purchased with my own money was Seven & The Ragged Tiger by Duran Duran. Having enjoyed Rio, and having seen the video for New Moon On Monday, I was sure I would like the songs the album. That was a given. I am sure I bought it because they looked so damned cool and there was a kick ass display unit with the branding from the record art. It had its own section. That seemed so much cooler than the other records just piled in the stacks.
Once I began recording and releasing my own music I thought as much about artwork, font choices and design as I did the actual making of the record. I wanted every facet of my records to feel like a well made film, or a novel or at least as cool as Seven & The Ragged Tiger.
During the intervening 25 plus years, I’ve continued to make albums the focal point of my recorded material. Until the advent of digital streaming, albums made logistical sense. Physical product needed to be made and by the 1990s, CDs could produced relatively cheaply. However, you could release 74 minutes of music for the price as 4 minutes of music. Certainly, you could release a single or an EP, but the physical price for the production of the disc is the same for 2 songs or 20. Most artists, and labels, focused on the album.
In the age of streaming, a single song can be produced in an afternoon and uploaded by dinnertime. There are no constraints of physical delivery, and no need to fill 13 more minutes on a vinyl side, or to feel obligated to fluff the dead air in the remaining time on that compact disc.
As streaming has taken hold, the album has become both less necessary from a practical perspective and less popular with listeners, as they instead focus intently on individual songs in favor of full albums.
Which begs the simple question, do albums even matter anymore?
To answer that question in resounding fashion, I would like to announce Don’t Forget To Breathe, the brand new album from Harborcoat. Yep, really.
Don’t Forget To Breathe is not so much a musical compilation as it is a sonic documentary capturing the world in, and around, Harborcoat. From our first single ‘See The Sun/The Circus Is In Town’, through to a spate of new recordings, and accompanying essays, it’s a glimpse into the formation and evolution of a band and the man at its creative center, yours truly.
Covering a six year span, the album seems to tell a much deeper and richer story than that window of time might normally seem to provide. Two brand new songs with the full band kick things off. ‘Brightening’ and ‘Measured’ were originally recorded as a part of the Joy Is Elusive sessions in 2020.
After some additional tracking, the finished tracks were originally readied for digital release. As the project gained steam, it was clear that instead of two singles, we had the beginning of a new collection of songs. An album, I think they call it.
‘Our Legacy’ is a new protest song for the Trump era. The song was penned in the wake of the George Floyd murder and I even recorded and shared an acoustic version during the lockdown. Then, amidst an ever-growing chorus of folks seeking to whitewash the actual history of the United States, I recorded a full arrangement of the song, playing and singing all of the parts himself. As Billy Bragg once penned himself, I became a sort of “one man Clash”.
A trio of songs from the Joy Is Elusive sessions provide a glimpse of the band playing songs for the record for the first time. These cabin demos feature just three or four members playing through live versions of the songs as they are learning them on the floor in the recording sessions. These barebones recordings are an illustrative example of how a song begins, the life it builds when played by a group of folks in the same room at the same time, and where it can go with a full band and a vivid musical imagination.
The tracks from these sessions are also a tremendous example of the healing power of music. The cabin demos were recorded less than four weeks after my father had died very suddenly.
I nearly called the sessions off. It seemed pointless to try and make something after that loss. I couldn’t see anything but hurt and was simply unable to imagine feeling happy or productive again.
But with the support of friends and bandmates and family, the sessions rolled on thankfully, and within these demos from that week in September of 2020, you can feel the weight and the relief in the room if you listen for it closely. The evolution of these songs and their origin point is a compelling look at the creative process, and a window into one way of coping with immense grief.
The second half of the collection is a series of cover versions. Four of these recordings are from work that I’ve done in 2023 as a part of my work here at What Am I Making. In an ongoing series called Mixtape For A Future Self, I record cover versions of songs with which I have a specific emotional connection and then I share them along with the details of that connection in an effort to better understand and explain myself and my struggles with mental illness.
The other four covers in the back half of the collection are pulled from a series of compilation and tribute projects; ‘Old Toy Trains’ and ‘Valley Winter Song’ come from the vaunted Bermuda Snowhawk holiday comps. ‘The Other Place’ is a highlight from the 2022 tribute to Guided By Voices, All Good Kids. While the enclosed, and utterly charming, version of American Analog Set’s ‘The Postman’ is a conflagration of homage, excitement, and enough Two Hearted to not know when to stop.
This series of songs stands as a testament to the power of relentless creativity, and to the resilience of creating important work with the people in your life that matter. Don’t Forget To Breathe reminds us to listen - and to create - deliberately, and with open hearts. I hope it also serves as a lesson in the context and depth that can be delivered as a group of songs together in one package.
This album captures a time, a place, loss, recovery, grief, hopelessness, and joy. I am better for making these songs with these people. These songs are made better because they stand together. I hope you enjoy them, together.
Cheers,
Matty C
I know the headline was rhetorical, but my answer is “yes,” and I think you did well to answer it at the bottom of the essay. Music (for both the artist and consumer) has the power to heal, uplift and unite.
The value of Vinyl as a medium lies on every easy complaint that can be made about it. It’s clunky, it takes up space, you have to get up and flip the record over.
All of those are true.
All of those also speak to a format that forces you to slow down, and listen intently and with intention. Listening to a record is something you do, not something happening passively on the background during another event. And none of that even speaks to the joy of tangible cover art, lyric sheets, and liner notes.