I often tell stories by first explaining how they end. Somehow the destination of a tale creates something like a center of gravity to draw all the details of the past towards the final point.
The story told in these songs has had several endings and several beginnings, a natural byproduct when a project spans the course of so many years. I started writing this record in 2012, which means it will be nearly eight years old on the day it is released.
In these years of writing and recording, I have gathered quite a wild palette of paints. In a way, Nobody Cries Today has actually been my teacher. As I have written these songs, each of them has been like a tiny rowboat to get me from one day to the next.
These songs have witnessed me in the years that I was in the throes of trying to find acceptance for myself and for the world I’m living in. As a gay man of southern origin, this proved to be a tall order.
These songs have also helped me to explore things like zest for life, discontent, hunger, truth, and hope.
All but one of these songs were recorded in 2016—just months before I nearly lost my life in a shooting. On January 20, 2017, I was shot in the chest by a sixteen-year-old who was attempting to steal my car. Miraculously, I lived.
This moment in my life created my new center of gravity and re-ordered my whole view and understanding of everything I’ve experienced in this lifetime.
Many people who experience an acute trauma go through somewhat of a euphoric period immediately after the incident occurs, and this was definitely my experience. Call it a spiritual awakening, or the result of adrenaline and endorphins gone wild, or even just the natural result of a near-death story with a happy ending. Whatever it was, this event threw me into a span of six months where it felt as if I was on a honeymoon with myself. The level of peace I felt was something I had never touched before. I wrote profusely, I gardened, I brought new life and vigor to my musical ventures, and I made peace with complicated friendships. More than anything, I found a level of great self-acceptance, and this created space for me to begin to learn how to live this life.
It was a golden age for me.
This era ended abruptly when PTSD showed up unexpectedly one day—about six months after I was shot. It was—no doubt—the most difficult time I’ve ever faced. It made me question just about everything. For months, my entire consciousness felt as if it had been turned upside down, and I couldn’t find a way to articulate the horrors I was experiencing. This kind of trauma is a knot you can only untangle with slow and patient work, and with the help of saints. (Thankfully, I know a lot of saints.)
I’m now on the other side of that long nighttime, and I’m so excited to sing these nine songs again—for anyone who will listen. Nobody Cries Today contains every bit of earnestness, desire, and love that I have to give. These are songs that have brought me so much joy and healing over the years.
