James Linck says he's going to try anything, try whatever he wants. And, not really care what anyone thinks.
Perfect. That's the way to be right now.
Been the way to be for a while.
Over the last two years, Linck made songs like these:
Something that could be a weird blend of new-wave and soul, under a pop-splashed umbrella.
Something that features elements of rap and R&B but still fits into its own little groove of electro-pop.
He can't explain how he winds up making the music that he does, considering his actual tastes. He grew up listening to nothing but hip-hop, but he's never really ever rapped. And he's not rapping on his new stuff.
This new stuff makes him smile and furrow his brow all at once. It's considerably close to being finished (a feat in itself, considering he's bouncing between recording spaces and lily-pad-leaping from laptop to laptop). He drops names like Doc Waffles and Tunde Olaniran in terms of the fledgling project's current list of cameo contributors.
He shakes his head in a swift twitch before settling on one word for the newer stuff:
A frightening future and a sentimentalized past curtain a heavy heart that, through song, is shielded from any judgment and free to employ jittery beats, spooky UFO synth drones, rousing, repetitive choruses and as high a falsetto as this singer, neither-pop-nor-R&B / neither-rap-nor-soul, can muster...
...But we won't hear that until the New Year.
For now, Linck, just like you...has to go to work. He needs day-jobs to manage the bills, spending time on his feet under fluorescent lighting with moderated temperatures inside office walls, counting hours until he can start writing the next song.
And ain't that how it goes...
When he's talking about his new songs, Linck, more than once, puts his hands into the air. A shrug of liberated confidence. In the Internet Music World -where it seems like anything could stick and nothing stays, where it seems anything could spark and yet it's sometimes too bright to focus-in, where there's a lot of white noise, the happy-hellish hum of every band on the field at once singing their fight song on a march toward the end zone...but no one's got the ball.
Why not shrug, then, and try whatever you feel like trying -in that moment - regardless of if you've got a band, regardless of whether it's rap, R&B, pop or electro- Because what's all that, anymore, anyway?