As a songwriter, I have one rule: I always say it to the person before I write it in a song. If I feel that I can’t speak some truth to you first, I won’t sing it about you after.

Art imitates life.
Fiction imitates memory.
Avoidance imitates heartbreak.

I suppose if you can’t tell the difference when it matters, the next best thing is a metaphor.

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34 years ago I stole a CD from Camelot Music at the mall in Midland, Michigan. It had just 3 words on the cover: KILL ROCK STARS.

This was the 90s and the only way to get music was to buy it or, if you were a gay kid growing up in a house where “secular music” was from the devil, put it down your pants and walk out, then hide it when you got home and hope your parents never find it. (Reader: They always did!)

Anyway, when I got this particular banned CD into my bedroom, it changed my ears forever. I heard Kurt Cobain’s voice for the first time and felt Kathleen Hanna’s power and agency in a way that grabbed me by the soul and just never let go. I found myself pretty desperate to escape the Midwest and find my people in Olympia and, decades later, I finally did.

I am so proud to be part of the Kill Rock Stars legacy and hope some queer or trans kid is shoplifting one of my albums from some corporate record store as I type this, hearing my songs and realizing there is a great big gay world out there (and a safe place for them in it).

Thank you to KRS for believing in me and my songs and my voice and my ideas about the world for all these years. Signing a pop act to a punk label will always be punk as hell, in my book.

Go check out my Kill Rock Stars catalog wherever you find music. Buy or stream it if you can! Steal it if you must.

xx
Logan