The song “Music Shift” is about music approached as an avocation, if not a vocation. The idea of working a “shift” in terms of labor dates back to 1809 and mining. Playing guitar may not be mining but it helps to approach music with that same sense of purpose and consistency.

I begin the song by saying that playing music is a “grift.” This emanates from much of today’s music promotion being about “pay to play.” Yet, this is nothing new. We know about the days of payola. In our time, it’s the constant enticements to pay for this or that in terms of getting your music streamed. Even if your song(s) get played, you’ll make little to nothing because any profits from Spotify or other platforms aren’t funneled equitably to the creators of the work. The con works because musicians want their music heard by others.

Since I began writing songs and getting my music out there, I’ve had a sense that people really don’t understood what I do. I play indie/alternative rock with influences from lo-fi bands like Guided by Voices. For fans of Taylor Swift and her overly-produced schlock and corporate façade, lo-fi with a DIY orientation sounds foreign.

I spent nearly 20 years slogging along as a writer. While working at a soul-sucking insurance gig, I romanticized about what it would be like to be a writer being published regularly. Truth-be-told, it’s not much different than being an underground rocker with a negligible following. It takes perseverance to grind it out every day, writing songs and making music and then, trying to explain it to fans of Swift and other popsters.

During my early days as a writer, once I started finding my byline in newspapers and magazine and then later, on the front of award-winning books, I naively believed that my words as a writer made a difference. I even had a blog I named Words Matter. Talk about being puffed-up with “foolish pride.” Words don’t matter, and neither do lyrics. That hasn’t stopped me from “shipping,” however, a valuable practice I first learned from Seth Godin.

The song has a reflective ending. The idea that looking back is often sad, or at least bittersweet. For me, there is sadness, which is conjoined with the loss of my son. When I consider the past, there are memories that produce elements of happiness, but ultimately, sorrow pushes that aside because I no longer can spend time with Mark Baumer (my son) who I was very close to. The memories compound that sadness.

The new song is available for pre-orders on Bandcamp.