I Hate Myself and Want to Die (Nirvana cover)

This piece is a study in phrasing, contour, and harmonic intuition. It explores the subtle tension between structured voice leading and expressive dissonance. While the melody adheres to a scalar logic, it frequently deviates into chromaticism and unexpected intervallic leaps that destabilize its tonal center.

Drift

Fifteen years in the making. This is not a concept album. It is a living document of growing up, burning out, and starting over. Some songs were written recently. Others are exactly fifteen years old.

I spent a long time avoiding releasing any of this. Nothing felt finished. One track did not sound like the next. I told myself they belonged in different projects. I told myself I needed a band to make it real.

I’m older now. I’m in a different place than when I started. I have stopped making excuses. I no longer care if the songs match or if the result fits any aesthetic or scene. It is messy. It is intense. And it could have been even messier.

This is the culmination of years I spent ruminating, navigating mental health challenges, scraping by, and trying to find meaning. This album isn’t confined to one genre.

The first eleven and a half minutes are pure rage and confusion. The next fourteen move into a kind of instrumental stillness, the eye of the storm. What begins in fury opens into peace, wonder, and a fragile sense of home.

At its core, this is about loss. The kind of loss that breaks a family apart. You try to piece it back together. You bleed from the effort. You scream. Then you stop. You get a broom and sweep up the shards.

You realize what you were chasing has always lived inside you. Everywhere becomes home. Everyone becomes family. Sometimes, you still look at your hands. You tend to the wounds that never fully healed.

The anger never left, but it’s different now. It has purpose. To channel a message of love, kindness, forgiveness, and authenticity. 

Dialect

Desolate

Cope

Limit

Orwell

Figment

Obstruct

Mistake

Temptation

Cottage

Prudent

Northwest born, Midwest raised. 
Music = document of my life.
I leave the things I cannot carry here.

beareab

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