The Clown

I find myself here, somewhere left of the abyss, somewhat of a relic in the context of today, about to share that after 20 years I am finally releasing an album.

I have released music since I was 16 and not only thought, but believed (and what is art without the innocence of self-belief), that at the very least this was a milestone I would have already passed…but, as for dreams and ideas, the unexpected is the only thing one can count on. 

The Clown. A collection of songs written mostly during the extensive Melbourne lockdowns, recorded lovingly, frustratedly and passionately by my almost husband Gideon Preiss, and tortured over by yours truly still on a life-long search for perfection. At some point I realised , whilst every day should probably be treated like the last, every work should be treated like the first. We are too ever-changing to put ceilings over possibility, and what a beautiful thing that is. I think maybe that is why art gives life to all things.

My small body of work tells 8 stories of broken dreams, with a wink from the clouds and the stars that there is hope yet. The album is about  burying my gold in the dirt for preference of being poor than hurt.

In honour of a new chapter, I am taking inspiration from master Nick Cave and his brilliant Red Hand Files, and creating an archive of thoughts, poems, conversations, op-eds, art, music, projects, and filtering them in the world in a way that I am comfortable with…my work on my terms…etc.

More to come on The Clown in coming months, until then, until then.