Production

The sound of those last summer nights of late adolescence. Boisterous and joyful and dumb. Drinking till two because what the hell is a tomorrow.

I wanted the intro and verses to sound like a bonfire being kindled, crackling, roaring up, and smoldering to coals; I wanted the choruses to sound like logs being tossed on the fire to extend the night; I wanted the bridge to sound like embers being kicked up and swirling amongst the stars. I wanted an outro that would make me want to dance and sing like I do when I’m drunk and happy and don’t care how stupid I look or sound.

Lyrics

On the one hand, the type of person whose idea of a fun night is one that devolves into bottomless arguments about philosophy, religion, politics, or some other topic about which everyone involved knows nearly nothing. Quoting authors you haven’t read. One toe in the real-world and still able to pull back. Young enough to not feel the consequence of action and inaction. Certain you understand it all. Of having “no knowledge and boundless conceit,” to quote the sort of author you might quote despite having not read them.

I still reach for the comfort of someone else’s certainties when the doubts and anxieties of the real world start to tug at the edges of who I am. Ultimately, this song is a reminder that so often what annoys me about someone else is what annoys me about myself.

Impressions

I remember exactly where I was when the idea for “Sleeveless Hearts” first arrived.

I was walking near Grant Park in Chicago, humming melodies to the beat of my footsteps, when I heard these two overlapping parts in my head: a syncopated bass line and staccato chord stabs. They weaved between each of my footfalls. I hummed (and embarrassingly beatboxed) a Voice Memo into my phone. Back in my studio, I recorded the ideas, and when everything locked in, the groove was undeniable: This was a song I knew I had to finish.

If you had told me back then—in 2012, jeesh—how long it would take to figure out where to go with this hypnotic little groove, I’m not sure I’d’ve kept at it. But for 7-8 years, I kept sporadically returning to and abandoning this idea. It, in turn, did the same.

“Sleeveless Hearts” was the second demo I shared with my future drummer/co-producer, Ryan Birkett, and future engineer/co-producer, James Scott. That was back when I was still trying to feel out if they were interested in making the kind of album I wanted to make. Their enthusiasm put wind in my sails to finish the rest of the songs.

Ten years after the groove for “Sleeveless Hearts” popped into my head, I was in Nashville, listening to then-musician-for-hire and now-pal, Makena Hartlin, lay down the final background vocals on this decade-old idea. I looked out the window at the budding trees, thought about that April day in Chicago back in 2012, and felt immense gratitude.

A song only gets born if you don’t give up on it (for good, anyway). It’s only fitting that one of the oldest ideas on my upcoming album gets to be the first one to make it out into the world.