21. A Little Bit Cuntry, A Little Bit Rock & Roll

I posted this on Instagram already but here you go.

Tara

Tara on Instagram: “Today is the one-year anniversary of my first and (so far) only EP, A Little Bit Cuntry, A Little Bit Rock & Roll. I have a torturous relationship with my work as a “musician” - I don’t even feel right calling myself one. It’s impostor syndrome of the most debilitating caliber. I don’t think I’m just a bad singer - I think I’m the worst singer who has ever sung. I’m actually ashamed even hearing my voice in this post. But I loved writing songs. I loved oversharing. I loved the challenge of an economy of words that had to fit a cadence, a rhyme, within a cage of syllables. I loved bringing my chokingly vast inspirations to a producer, mentally storyboarding album covers. I nearly cried when @littlehag told me “this is a masterpiece you stupid asshole” and @mrfantastictoday told me how my songs showed up at exactly the right time and when @the_meat_sweats told me too and when I showed up in my angel girls @kkypers and @hannahmcnoface’s Spotify wrappeds. And love every single one of the 40+ songs I have, unscored, unproduced, wilting away in a Google Doc. I just hate my voice, my lack of comp theory education, lack of luck finding a producer (it is factually impossible, and my burden alone) who can massage every esoteric reference I have into what I hear in my Where’s Waldo page of a mind. But I do want to bring you these songs someday. “Baby” was kicking me like a pregnancy yesterday in the work parking lot. “The Dancer,” a song I wish I could just hand off to @laurajanegrace, is a ghost I will live with until I become one myself. “Hurts in Slow Motion,” “Silver,” My, We Were Yar,” the song I wrote about a boy I loved who loved @carlyraejepsen, “Osage, Can You See?,” “5:35,” “Shibari.” I still want to crack “A Coyote Over Mount Vernon,” knowing more than ever how impossible that would be. “A twin in all my dark, fucking and fighting in the womb” is still one of my favorite lyrics, and it still has never fit into a song. I could make them poems. I could take them to the abattoir and drop these exercises in pith into the novel I have 200 pages written of, or my newsletter. But they’re songs. They should be sung and screamed. I will try. Try. But try I will.”

July 8, 2023