matt pond PA

October 4, 2015

Light and dark.

I’m typing from the car, Chris is at the wheel. Fall colors and cool air wash by us as we wind our way back to the northeast.

Though the shows have been amazing, the thought of sleeping in my own bed pastes a huge, neon grin across my mind.

The morning after I get back, I’ll swing down to the city and pick Shawn up from JFK to start rehearsals for our next tour. It’s also time to deal with the landscape of my musical world.

I know that my problems are sub-atomically petty in our expanding universe. So many suffer from far greater and real predicaments.

Still, we’re in the middle of a sordid scrap with our label, Doghouse. There will be no radio, there will be no royalties, there will be nothing. Their concern for me and my music is nonexistent.

I’ve made a minor career of trusting the wrong people. But Doghouse is unlike any animal I’ve ever grappled.

“The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs. There’s also a negative side.”

Hunter S. Thompson

I should’ve known. I should’ve been more shrewd. When I initially and repeatedly told them I needed health insurance, they were deafeningly silent. When I told them that I had to start making money or move on, they told me to drive an Uber.

From there to here, it’s been an open battle. Their communication, coordination and planning are all unbelievably outdated and muddled. At this point they’ve drained financial support and have even gone so far as to tell our publicist to stop doing publicity — even though they’ve already been paid.

Sure, I can be irascible and impatient when it comes to music. I don’t know how to put my heart into songs and then turn around and be a reasonable gentleman when those songs are evaluated purely for their cash value. It’s hard for me to control myself when it comes down to what I love.

I love The State Of Gold. Chris and I wrestled with the album for years. It was my strongest statement against doubt. It was the acceptance of world and whatever it brings, both good and bad.

So maybe it makes sense. Maybe this is a self-realized, metaphysical test. Maybe I’m supposed to be doing exactly what I’m doing.

What matters most is you. Or us. Or the idea that we can listen to one another and understand each other. Thank you.