matt pond PA

Hi, Mom.

It was great to see you in Canada a few weeks ago. The views out onto the Passamaquoddy Bay are always unreal. Going back across the border, my car was fully searched as soon as I mentioned the word “musician.” This overtook my thoughts for the rest of the ten-hour drive.

I’m lucky and honored to have done what I’ve done with my cracked guitar and creaky voice. I don’t deserve anything more, I know that. But I don’t know how much fight or fire I have left in me. Is this even awkward art anymore? Or is it just a clumsy career?

Do you remember when I left Brooklyn with a broken heart and we started a band together at the farmhouse in New Hampshire? (Your keyboard parts were sick. Which actually means amazing.)

Anyway, my musical life has gone far beyond the trivial upheavals of failed relationships and I find myself contorting past any previous points of recognition. I’m losing sight of what I loved about playing music.

Look, I’m fortunate for every single note, for every single fan. But the virtual universe involved in making melody is downright draining. And more than anything, I don’t trust anyone other than Chris anymore. (Of course, I trust Shawn, Tierney, all my friends, all our fans, my neighbors, Mike Campbell, Laura Stevenson and every other musician out there on the planet. I hope the vagueness of my tongue-biting is crystal clear.)

I know you’re proud of me, but I’m still sorry that I didn’t finish school and get business cards affixed with the perfect font, an office with my name etched on the door.

There are further apologies. To musicians, friends and girlfriends, I haven’t always been the best. Sometimes I’ve been the worst. A hubristic pursuit and code of creation above all else has led me here, rethinking all my thoughts, to thinking that perhaps it’s just time to get out of the batter’s box.

As we contemplate new careers, Chris and I are putting out a collection of songs under the name The Lowlifes. It’s an expression of what those border guards (and countless others) are thinking, even if they don’t say it.

I don’t know what’s right or what direction I’m headed in next. I do know that I’m going to take a shot at the distilling world, the bar world and restaurant world.

I know I’m probably not the son that anyone would aim to have. But I definitely tried the best that my brain has to give. Your understanding and support have been everything. Plus, thanks for giving me this consciousness. Even when it all seems lost, at least there is an “it” to be had.

I love you. Matthew.