Abby Webster's First Record
Donation protected
Music is the way that I release. I am the kind of person who holds on to everything very tightly, both beautiful and destructive. That’s why I’m not surprised that I’ve sat with these songs for as long as I have, or that many of them delve into my cyclical struggle to let go of pain.
I’m scared to let this record out into the airwaves, where it could be judged, disregarded, or even loved. They are vulnerable reflections of my internal landscape, and once they are out of my hands, I no longer get to operate under the illusion that I have control over them.
About a year and a half ago, I had to leave my house in San Francisco. I went to Colorado and began writing this set of songs. Because my housing there was both haunted and limited in space, I devoted myself to learning how to play portable acoustic instruments, like guitars and ukuleles. It was simpler than schlepping a keyboard around, and made it so I could avoid plaguing my housemates when they were home. I pre-recorded most of the songs on GarageBand, either in the backyard or while seated next to the ghosts at the kitchen table.
I have a hard time trying to describe my songs to people, or answering questions about what kind of music I play. It’s come to my attention that the only thing I truly know about my own songs is that they are honest. I also like to think they are pretty self-aware. This record is folkier than my previous releases, and wiser. Writing this has also been the hardest work I’ve ever done.
For the past year, I worked full time as a special education paraprofessional at an elementary school. It was immensely rewarding, but it wasn’t a job that pays the kind of money it takes to make a full length record out of pocket. I’m creating something low-fi, and low budget, but it will take some funds that I don’t have.
This record is called Polyphony, and at this point, it’s having a full-blown tantrum in my soul. It is absolutely fed up with being locked in there, and I fear it will continue to bang on the walls and throw things until it self-destructs entirely. I can only hope that, once set free, the darkness within it will transform into some kind of benevolent entity...like maybe one that could help another person who’s known similar pain. But if it doesn’t, if it simply becomes another grain of sand in the sea of the internet, at least I can live knowing it’s not suffering within me any longer.
Either way, this is something I’ve worked toward for a long time. I’ve surely written over 100 songs in the last year or so. I’ve stripped them down and rebuilt them, combined them, trashed them, and decided plenty were good as is. It’s been a full-time job on top of another full-time job, and any help I can get to record, produce, master, press and distribute this record, would mean so, so much to me.
Click to hear previous releases
I’m scared to let this record out into the airwaves, where it could be judged, disregarded, or even loved. They are vulnerable reflections of my internal landscape, and once they are out of my hands, I no longer get to operate under the illusion that I have control over them.
About a year and a half ago, I had to leave my house in San Francisco. I went to Colorado and began writing this set of songs. Because my housing there was both haunted and limited in space, I devoted myself to learning how to play portable acoustic instruments, like guitars and ukuleles. It was simpler than schlepping a keyboard around, and made it so I could avoid plaguing my housemates when they were home. I pre-recorded most of the songs on GarageBand, either in the backyard or while seated next to the ghosts at the kitchen table.
I have a hard time trying to describe my songs to people, or answering questions about what kind of music I play. It’s come to my attention that the only thing I truly know about my own songs is that they are honest. I also like to think they are pretty self-aware. This record is folkier than my previous releases, and wiser. Writing this has also been the hardest work I’ve ever done.
For the past year, I worked full time as a special education paraprofessional at an elementary school. It was immensely rewarding, but it wasn’t a job that pays the kind of money it takes to make a full length record out of pocket. I’m creating something low-fi, and low budget, but it will take some funds that I don’t have.
This record is called Polyphony, and at this point, it’s having a full-blown tantrum in my soul. It is absolutely fed up with being locked in there, and I fear it will continue to bang on the walls and throw things until it self-destructs entirely. I can only hope that, once set free, the darkness within it will transform into some kind of benevolent entity...like maybe one that could help another person who’s known similar pain. But if it doesn’t, if it simply becomes another grain of sand in the sea of the internet, at least I can live knowing it’s not suffering within me any longer.
Either way, this is something I’ve worked toward for a long time. I’ve surely written over 100 songs in the last year or so. I’ve stripped them down and rebuilt them, combined them, trashed them, and decided plenty were good as is. It’s been a full-time job on top of another full-time job, and any help I can get to record, produce, master, press and distribute this record, would mean so, so much to me.
Click to hear previous releases
Organizer
Abigail Webster
Organizer
Jackson, WY