Terry Carolan has been an unstoppable force on the alternative-music scene since the early ’70s. Armed with a rich history involving iconic bands such as Just Boys, the Pinups, True Hearts, New Movies, Blue Cartoon and Heirs of Fortune, Carolan also manages a solo career.
His current endeavor, Flights of Fancy, expertly incorporates experience with adventure, presenting a stately soundscape of striking arrangements, detailed melodies and intelligent and introspective storytelling. Regal and articulate vocals match the deftly constructed material pound for pound.
Containing a bedazzling brew of ballads and power popping spunk, Flights of Fancy registers as yet another exciting chapter in the North Carolina-based artist’s ever-evolving musical odyssey.
The singer, songwriter and multi-versed instrumentalist recently took time to discuss Flights of Fancy with Beverly Paterson in the following Something Else! Sitdown, as well as his previous efforts:
BEVERLY PATERSON: First of all, congratulations on your wonderful new album. Were these songs already meticulously planned in your mind prior to recording the album or would you say you just went with the flow?
TERRY CAROLAN: Thank you for such a nice compliment on the album, Beverly. Considering how much music you must hear, it means a lot to me. “Wonderful” is a word with some significance here. I didn’t plan the album, or even to do an album, at that point. It grew organically, from a few angles, much like Circus of Mirth did.
Late in 2020, my close friend and former Pinups bandmate Chris Lesikar was terminally ill. He and I had never shied from telling each other how much our friendship meant, but Chris had a hard time facing his own personal hardships, and here was the hardest of all. I was deeply compelled to do something to tell Chris how much I was hurting, knowing I would soon lose him. I knew it had to be in a song, with a video, but I didn’t know what that song might be. One evening, when the reality was really setting in, I went to my studio and just sat at the piano with pen and paper at hand. After a while of trying to open up to my heart and mind, “Fade” started coming through, very quickly. When that happens, I don’t question it, or wonder if it’s the right thing, I just go with it.
The song came together quickly, so I started recording it immediately. For some reason, I felt it would mean even more to Chris if I included other friends of ours for the recording. I wanted him to feel his life had been important, and that he was loved. I contacted Bruce Moody, Randy Miller and Jon Stone, who are all excellent musicians and who Chris and I both knew from my days in Houston. They all graciously, and enthusiastically, said yes. Knowing time was short, they all contributed their parts quickly, so the recording was finished in short order. Then I did the video, so Chris could see and hear what I needed to say to him. He did, and based on one Facebook post of his, I think it delivered the message I hoped for – but we never spoke about it. That would’ve been too hard for him … maybe for me, too.
When “Fade” was finished, it occurred to me that I have often gone to this place with my songwriting – a place where I’m expressing some deeply held feeling that no one else knows about. Sometimes expressing pain, sometimes wonder, sometimes pondering existential questions, and sometimes just fanciful. That’s when the inspiration for the Flights of Fancy album came to life. I’ve always had a backlog of songs that never got used for other projects, so I looked back to them for some songs – but in this state of mind, other songs started coming through. So the album is a combination of newer and older songs that, for me, seem to come from this same place in me. I’ve always been a seeker, and I believe seekers allow their minds to accept many possibilities, even contradictory possibilities. There’s a sense of wonder – there’s that word! – whimsy and contemplation. For me, this is what makes this collection of songs right for Flights of Fancy. It wasn’t planned; it just happened.
BEVERLY PATERSON: How do you approach songwriting? Do you usually write the lyrics or the music first? Being the multi-instrumentalist that you are, do you write your material using a variety of instruments?
TERRY CAROLAN: Generally speaking, I don’t tend to approach songwriting. It’s more that it approaches me. I started writing songs around 1970. Those early songs would just seem to happen at times when I’d have a guitar in my hands. I had been an amateur, self-imagined poet. At this time, I was a drummer that also played a little guitar. A few years later, as Just Boys was starting to coalesce, I was trying to write songs for us – but as the band evolved, some of these songs started coming through from deeper, truer places in my mind. A turning point was “If Only She Knew,” which Just Boys recorded in 1978.
Then, fast forwarding to True Hearts in 1979, and having a little momentum from Just Boys’ close encounter with a record deal, I was determined to write that elusive hit in hopes it would land a record deal for True Hearts. So, while there are some songs that are lyrically more honest on the True Hearts album, I felt there were as many that were more crafted than inspired. The next band was New Movies, and it coincided with a very difficult time in my life. It seems to me that that is when things changed, particularly with lyrics.
Each song develops in its own way, for me. Sometimes, as in the case with “Solo Rita,” the song came into my head, basically complete – hence the original running time of one minute. Other times, I’ll have a guitar, or be at the piano, and just be noodling around – then all of a sudden the noodling takes shape and a song emerges. Equally so, I may have some words that catch my attention first, possibly the old self-styled poet in me, and that will start the process.
Going back way to Just Boys, I would write with a guitar, or piano, but more often with guitar. I’ve only ever been in one band, New Movies, that had a full-time keyboard player, so many of the old piano-based songs were put aside in favor of songs the guitar-based bands could, and would, play. I have many demos of piano based songs from the ’80s that are still just demos in my archive, though a few did make it onto albums. Songs like “If I’m Late” from True Hearts, or “Thanks a Lot” and “Though It’s Over” from Just Boys, were these exceptions. In recent years, though I’m not much better as a pianist, I find myself gravitating more to writing on piano – and this is reflected on the Circus of Mirth album, as well as on Flights of Fancy.
BEVERLY PATERSON: Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems like the songs on Flights of Fancy were written from a personal standpoint. For instance, what can you tell me about “I’ll Go Home (Elysian Fields)”? Both “Penny Lane” and “Strawberry Fields Forever” are namechecked, with the vision of a brighter day.
TERRY CAROLAN: You couldn’t be more right, Beverly. Every song on Flights of Fancy comes from not only a personal perspective, but generally from a deeply personal perspective. I’m just not inspired to write boy/girl love songs, or traditional breakup songs. They don’t reflect who I am today, and what matters to me. I’m very fortunate to have been happily, and constructively, married for 35 years. That allows me to contemplate and experience experience deeper and wider-ranging things. I feel that shows up in my lyrics, and so I believe my lyrics are more honest, more genuine, and I hope they speak to others who can relate, and feel what they mean … to them.
“I’ll Go Home (Elysian Fields),” for me, brings me back to the mind-blowing double-A side single that preceded the Sgt. Pepper album. The AM radio DJs in Tampa had been advertising the release of the new Beatles single, and on the day of release I got off the school bus and literally ran home so I could tune in and hear the new songs ASAP. With “Paperback Writer” and “Rain” being the previous single, I was completely unprepared emotionally, spiritually and mentally for what I heard when “Strawberry Fields Forever” played, just minutes after I tuned in. It almost literally blew my mind!
Then, “Penny Lane” invoked these images of lightness of being. I wanted to go to that world. I wanted Paul McCartney to show me the Liverpool he sang about. I wanted something more than my life in Tampa, with my damn crew cut! Even at 12 I was searching, seeking for something. In “I’ll Go Home,” I think I’m looking at the world that’s my current reality, with all the stresses of every day life, all the challenges, disappointments, dashed dreams and unknowns – and I’m yearning for those simpler, more joyous days, when “Strawberry Fields Forever” opened my mind, and “Penny Lane” was able to instantly transport me to those “blue suburban skies.” It must say something about the significance, that the songs that bring me the most immediate and unfiltered joy are, to this day: “Penny Lane,” “Daydream Believer” and “Itchycoo Park” – all from that era – and all magically joyous songs.
You’re spot-on that the name-checked songs – and “I’ll Go Home” itself – are visions of, and hopes for, a brighter day. In Greek mythology, Elysian Fields are the place of supreme happiness and bliss, where the souls of the good went after death. I just want to go there while I’m alive. One other thing worth a mention on this song, is that a friend of mine recently heard it, and his comment was: “You’re really asking the existential question, proposing that ‘nothing is real.’” I thought to myself, “He gets it.” That made me happy.
BEVERLY PATERSON: Then there’s “Fade,” where you are obviously saying goodbye …
TERRY CAROLAN: “Fade” was very specific, but I’m pretty sure what was coming through when I wrote it was the bigger goodbye. It’s a reality that gets more real as we get older. A few short months after losing Chris, I unexpectedly lost another, even closer friend and musical companion – Ralph Raymond Smith, who was my main collaborator for the Circus of Mirth album, and who had been enormously influential in my songwriting in the past. From John [Lennon] and Paul [McCartney], I learned how a great song should sound. From Ralph, I learned how to construct a good song. I believe everyone’s life matters, and I want them to know it matters. “Fade” was letting one person know how much their life mattered to me.
BEVERLY PATERSON: And how about “Easter ’83”?
TERRY CAROLAN: “Easter ‘83” is one of the two oldest songs on Flights of Fancy, and is an example of one of those songs of mine that never found a home – except as a demo done in ‘83. It was a very dark time for me, in some ways, yet in other ways it was the beginning of who I am now. It’s one of those songs that seemed to materialize from the ether. I never imagined writing a song like that at the time, and the guitar playing was not in my normal wheelhouse, but the song demanded it – and my core belief as a musician is that whatever I play, no matter how simple or complex, it must serve the song itself.
BEVERLY PATERSON: What was the inspiration behind “The Muse”? Do you have a special muse?
TERRY CAROLAN: The concept of a muse is just as whimsical to me as the Elysian Fields are – so as the seeker I think I am, I’m compelled to treat them as they’re very real. I do seem to have a Muse, in the sense that inspiration seems to wax and wane. I can’t explain, or understand, why at times a song will just come through as though I’m channeling it, and other times the channel seems frustratingly closed.
I’ll go on a tangent here, but it is relevant; In 1990, we decided to leave Los Angeles, where we had been for about five years. I had been working hard – writing, recording, chasing the ever-elusive record deal – and when we left, I felt I had failed. We moved to Austin, which is a big music town, but I felt that if I couldn’t make it in L.A. then I had couldn’t make it anywhere. I had lost hope and inspiration, and was in despair. My muse had left me. I put my guitars in a closet, and my recording equipment in a shed in the backyard, and I vowed that I wouldn’t pick them up again until I felt the burning desire and inspiration to do so. In nearly five years I picked up a guitar only a few times, and it didn’t speak to me. I didn’t write any songs, and while I was devastated in my heart, my resolve was strong. We moved to San Jose in 1993, and the guitars and recording equipment took up residence in our cool and damp basement.
By ‘96, my dear and also departed friend and benefactor Gary Littleton had started Audities with Anthony Henderson. Gary was nearly single-handedly responsible for Just Boys having a small place in history, and he and Anthony both helped fund the recording and pressing for the True Hearts album and EP. He told me they were planning to release a compilation album of unsigned artists, and said he wanted to include a couple of his favorite True Hearts songs. Even though I was unprepared in every way, I told Gary that if he was going to put something of mine on the album, I would rather it was new songs. He agreed, so I built a studio in the basement and recorded four songs for the album, with the support and help of my friend and exceptional musician Kip Millwee. Sadly, the Audities album was completed, but never released. However, “Holly” did appear on an International Pop Overthrow album, and version one of “Solo Rita” (there are now four versions) was one of the songs at that time. “Solo Rita,” version three, is now on Flights of Fancy.
So, the opportunity Gary presented to me opened the channel to my muse again – but she still comes and goes, which is what the song “The Muse” is about. I think my muse is life. Observing, experiencing and feeling life, every day, and sometimes it makes me need to express something. When that need is strong enough, the muse always presents herself.
BEVERLY PATERSON: What can you tell me about “The Box”? That is such a moving song, and one of many examples where you so deftly combine beauty with sadness.
TERRY CAROLAN: This is another of those songs that seemed to come from nowhere, especially the lyrics. I didn’t apply any filters as the lyrics were unfolding, so it was kinda stream of consciousness. Now, looking back, I can understand how honestly, and vulnerably, they express what I felt. There had recently been many big issues and conflicts with family members, friends, bandmates and even neighbors, and I had retreated inside myself – the only place I felt safe, into “the box.” And I very literally felt that some people took advantage of my generally good nature, only wanting what they wanted from me – and often I was complicit, because I always want to help people when they need help. I wasn’t aware of how deeply I was feeling this though until I had recorded the song.
I really appreciate that you mention the duality of beauty and sadness about the song. In ways I don’t understand about myself, I have always found a certain beauty in sadness. Sadness is so much the challenge of the human condition, but transcending that sadness or sorrow is a triumph of the human spirit. When I watch the movie The Elephant Man, it is painful for me to imagine what that poor man must have experienced in being rejected and unloved – but his spirit was kind, gentle, understanding, and most of all forgiving. He transcended that pain with his grace.
I’m very fortunate that “The Box” was given to me. It helped me understand something about myself that I wasn’t fully aware of before. The muse did me good that day!
BEVERLY PATERSON: What songs on Flights of Fancy are you most satisfied with, and what is it that you most like about them?
TERRY CAROLAN: “The Box”, for the reason I already mentioned, but also the way the production developed. When I listen to it, it feels immersive – and I like the dreamy, semi-psychedelic turn it takes on the outro. “I’ll Go Home (Elysian Fields),” for reasons similar to “The Box,” but also for the general texture of the production. Plus, by invoking “Strawberry Fields” and “Penny Lane,” I’m paying homage to the songwriters who first led me to the path of songwriting.
“The World Keeps Turning” is one I like because it goes to the essence of me as a pop-rock songwriter, and I like how it feels. I had re-written some of the lyrics, intending to re-record the vocal with the new lyrics – but I liked the feel of my scratch vocal, which I did only as a guide, so I decided to leave them as they are. “Watching Me,” because it’s light and whimsical but also because it is by far the most McCartney-esque of all my songs – and I swear, that wasn’t intentional!
BEVERLY PATERSON: The album has been released on your own label, Counterfeit Records. But are you open to having another label pick it up? How are you distributing the album?
TERRY CAROLAN: Counterfeit Records is the path of least resistance, and also honors Gary Littleton, who started the label with me in 1977 for the Just Boys single. I’d be happy if another label with more reach and promo capability was interested in releasing Flights of Fancy, but I also won’t be disappointed if not. My plans for distribution are all small and comparatively simple. First will be the digital release of “The World Keeps Turning” as the single, with some accompanying video. Soon to follow will be a special early digital release that will only be, officially at least, available to all of Curt Vance’s “Power Pop Overdose” members, for free. I plan to have only a hundred CDs made, half of which I’ll use for promo and for the guest musicians, a handful for me to keep, and maybe 40 available for purchase. Probably from the Counterfeit Productions Music store on my website. Otherwise, I intend to make the digital version of the album available as a free download from my website. This is a decision I’ve been contemplating for a few years now, and this is the first public statement of it. I’ll soon be making all music of mine available as a free download, directly from the website.
BEVERLY PATERSON: You have been in the biz for many years now, and have no doubt seen and experienced a lot in your travels. You even wrote a great memoir – Just Boys, Legends In Their Own Minds, named after one of your bands and documenting some of your encounters. As far as promotion and accessibility, how do you feel about the changes in music over the years? Do you think the internet has made music disposal or do you view the digital medium as a plus?
TERRY CAROLAN: It’s such a double-edged sword. The digital medium and home recording have given so much music a way to be heard. But who are the gatekeepers to keep the standards up? Some years ago, I read an article saying that there were approximately 10,000 new releases a month. With home recording getting more affordable, that number is most likely higher now. When mp3.com came online, I tried slogging through to discover some new music from artists I hadn’t heard of. What I found was an ocean of poorly written songs, poorly played performances, and terrible sounding recordings. And that was 20 years ago. What it said to me is that some people really shouldn’t be releasing records – and that, as well as funding, was what was good about record labels and record producers. But as a musician involved in several bands that deserved record deals, I resented those record label and producer gatekeepers. I mean, anyone can, and should, express themselves through music but it makes it hard to find the gems out there – and they are out there.
Probably even more significant to me though, is the state of music-delivery systems. Those of us who put their heart, soul, time and money into trying to record a truly good album, end up with the reality that many, many people are going to listen on the half-inch speaker in their phone, and probably turned up to the point of hopeless distortion. Anyone who has seen the Circus of Mirth album will notice a headphone icon on the back, and it will be there again on Flights of Fancy. That is my way of asking, suggesting, maybe even imploring people to listen with decent headphones or earbuds, so they can experience what I put so much effort into creating. I put about 1,200 hours into the recording, mastering and artwork for Circus of Mirth. The last thing I wished for was for someone to listen on a tinny, distorted device that is completely lacking in low frequency.
BEVERLY PATERSON: A few of the bands you were in achieved legendary local status and are still fondly remembered today. Just Boys have already been mentioned, and True Hearts are held in high regard by power pop fans. What are your memories of those bands?
TERRY CAROLAN: Just Boys was such an exciting time. With Gary Littleton’s belief in my songs and the band itself, the distribution from Bomp and Jem Records and getting the call from Arista Records, it seemed like it was not a matter of “if” but “when.” It wasn’t to be, but that was the stepping stone for all that has happened since. I am proud of the fact that the Just Boys record is still something worth noting. That was also when my interest in the art of recording itself started, being captivated by working in the studio on that record.
True Hearts are a bit different. The first version of the band came immediately after my time with the Pinups, and two members of the Pinups were in the original True Hearts. That is the band that recorded the EP that was released in 1980, and the whole album that wasn’t released until 2013. There were a few iterations of the band after that, and I don’t have fond memories of those versions. We had drifted from my original vision and intention, and were becoming more and more a band that played original and cover songs. In short, what I felt was a bar band. It was alright, and we were fairly successful, but I wasn’t happy. As you know Beverly, there are five more True Hearts songs, done with a later version of the band, that remain unreleased to this day. Well, the song “Everytime” was released on a compilation album by a radio station in Houston in 1980, but has otherwise remained in the can.
BEVERLY PATERSON: Would you ever consider joining a band again or do you intend to stick with solo work? In fact, have you already started recording your next album?
TERRY CAROLAN: The solo effort started from a very pragmatic angle. In Just Boys, True Hearts and New Movies, I was the primary, and at times, the only songwriter in the band. Robert Woodrich was a very good singer, better than me, and had been with me from the beginning in Just Boys and later again in New Movies. I always prefer things to be inclusive, so Bobby and I would share the lead vocals on my songs. Plus, it was practical to utilize his good voice. But when the inevitable band breakup comes, I’d be left with recordings of my songs that were useless to me, because I hadn’t sang them. When I left Houston for Los Angeles in 1986, I decided to go solo to avoid that very practical problem. That was also when recording started to take precedence over performing. I felt, and still do, that a performance lasts a moment, or an hour – but as soon as the moment or hour is gone, so is the performance. It’s not quite as true these days, with the ease of cell-phone video at your fingertips, but still there’s an essence of truth in that the performance is over, and so is the electricity that goes with it. Now, if I’d had the benefit of a real tour, with a record label behind it, that would probably have been different.
In 2010, I did break this tradition, when I was invited to join Blue Cartoon. The band had been in existence for a long time by then, and had four great albums out. There were three very good songwriters in the band, so I was now the fourth writer. It was a wonderful experience working with them, and I admired them so much that I felt fortunate to be in the band. We only did the one album, Are You Getting On, while I was in the band – but I had three songs on the album, and I was proud of them. Still the age-old issue resurfaced: I didn’t sing the lead vocals on my songs, so while I’m pleased with them, they’re useless for me now.
I haven’t started the next album yet, but already have an idea of what it will be. With Circus of Mirth, Flights of Fancy and a few other excursions, I’ve veered of into songs that really ask for a listener’s attention. I’ve wanted them to say more, and for there to be more to absorb and digest. Unless I change course, I think the next album will go back to my more straight-forward pop-rock foundation. I’ve already got most of the songs, but not the head space and drive to start. Stay tuned!
BEVERLY PATERSON: Do you still enjoy performing live? Will you be doing any gigs to promote Flights of Fancy?
TERRY CAROLAN: If I’m being completely honest, I’ve never really enjoyed playing live. Not because I’m uncomfortable on stage, or a recluse, but because a lot of work goes into rehearsal and keeping a band together, then a lot goes into the gigs themselves. I enjoy the audience interaction but the effort it takes, and especially for doing original music, doesn’t have the pay off it used to have. It was very different in the ’70s and ’80s, when I was performing multiple nights a week at times. I just wasted two-and-a-half years trying to pull a band together, only for it all to fail. What it did was distract me from work on Flights of Fancy, so when the last attempt fizzled just before Thanksgiving, I took it as an opportunity to get back to the album. Of course, the pandemic has not helped matters, either. As of this moment, I don’t have any plans to bring the new album to the stage, but life is ever changing so we’ll see what unfolds.
BEVERLY PATERSON: What have been some of the highlights of your career so far? How about low points?
TERRY CAROLAN: Joining Blue Cartoon was a highlight. Seeing the Just Boys record sell was fulfilling. The close encounter with Arista Records was both thrilling, and a massive disappointment. Seeing the Just Boys, True Hearts, and more recently, New Movies recordings endure has also been satisfying. That surprises me. The numerous nice reviews for Circus of Mirth made me very happy, too. But I think one of the biggest thrills came unexpectedly: In 1997, while I was recording the songs for the ill-fated Audities album, Gary Littleton introduced me to Scott McCarl, who had been in the Raspberries for the final album Starting Over – my favorite. I shared the songs I had recorded with Scott, which eventually resulted in us recording two songs for his Play On album in my studio. In addition to being a great musician and singer, Scott is one of the nicest musicians I’ve ever met. We’re friends to this day, and are fellow hopeless Beatlemaniacs.
There have been disappointments, and when they happen, they’re the low points of the moment. But in the big picture they are overshadowed by the truly gifted people I’ve worked with, many of whom are still my friends. And I’ve experienced so many things that most people don’t have the opportunity to experience. Plus, experiencing the magic of having a song appear from nowhere, and through the alchemy of recording it becomes a tangible thing that other people can experience – and which, if you’re lucky, lives on.
I guess my biggest disappointment in music has nothing to do with my own journey, except that it centers around the one and only person I truly idolize: Paul McCartney. In 2012, I was in his private dressing room with the circumstances in place for me to meet Paul, after all those years – but it didn’t happen. I had a simple thing to say, which was “thank you for helping me be the musician I am.” But that is a whole other story.
BEVERLY PATERSON: Do you spend much time listening to music for personal pleasure? If so, who are some of your favorite artists?
TERRY CAROLAN: These days, I spend a lot of time with atmospheric music going in the background. I haven’t had much time, or the right moments to just listen, with full attention and immersion the way I did repeatedly in the past. But at times I still do, and I enjoy hearing something new that moves me. A more recent example of that is the album from Those Pretty Wrongs’ Zed For Zulu – a fantastic pop album and an incredible sounding production.
I’m almost afraid to say who some favorite artists have been, because those who know me as a pop-rock guy may be disappointed, but here it goes; Of course, the Beatles. They are the center of my musical universe. From there, it gets diverse, and I’m only referencing artists who influenced or inspired me; Cheap Trick, Bryan Adams, Jethro Tull (yes, it’s true, but only up to Thick As a Brick, which is a masterpiece), The Producers, James Taylor (again, the early albums), Jude Cole, Rick Springfield, Stackridge. There are others, I’m sure, but these are important ones.
What may surprise, or possibly repulse, some people are the early things that caught my ear, and my guilty pleasures. Before the Beatles, I found myself drawn to songs from the Everly Brothers, the Seekers, the Kingston Trio and Peter, Paul and Mary. Guilty pleasures include Henry Mancini’s “Moon River,” and “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers” from Barbara Streisand and Neil Diamond.
BEVERLY PATERSON: How would you classify your own music?
TERRY CAROLAN: I always refer to the songs I’m best known for as pop rock. Rock music is my foundation, but with pop sensibilities. So, I love solid drums and powerful guitars, but I love songs with melodies and strong choruses, and less focus on guitar-hero stuff. It’s worth noting that I have, and do, write songs that aren’t pop rock, or power pop. I’ve written and recorded quite a few songs that have more in common with Bryan Adams or James Taylor, than with the Beatles, and some of those songs have been released – but not many people know of them.
BEVERLY PATERSON: Are you happy with the way things have gone with your music, or is there anything you regret and would have done differently?
TERRY CAROLAN: I’m very happy with how things went for one very important reason: I have never been in a position to have to write, record or release any songs that I didn’t want to. While it is a disappointment to never have gotten a record deal, the silver lining is that no label, producer or manager was telling me what I needed to record to sell albums. It has kept my songwriting honest and sincere, and I’m proud of what I’ve done. With the support of my wife, I was able to start with a home studio in the late ’80s, so that has allowed me endless hours in the studio without a clock ticking away the dollars, and that is liberating.
Of the regrets, it’s “if I had known then what I know now.” Maybe if I had been a bit more savvy, wiser, a little more shrewd, Just Boys could’ve gotten that deal with Arista, but would that have been the right path? I’m not sure, so I don’t think of it that way. I am who I am today. I create the music I create, I have a good life with a wife I cherish, and while I continuously try to become a better version of myself, I’m happy with who I am today. No real regrets. I’ve been a very lucky guy.
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