I released my 10th album this week and next year will be celebrating the 25th anniversary of the 1st one. Wild stuff.

I can’t ever tell if I am the hero or the villain of this story, so I usually land on: I am both. People are assholes and I’m one of them. Unlike most of you though, my entire humiliating human journey is on record. Every dark thought I had as a teenager is literally downloadable on iTunes, a quarter of a century later. It’s horrifying and liberating all at once, and has always felt this way to me. I made bedfellows with overexposure early on in my career because I had to as a result of my writing, not because I understood what that would actually mean 25 years down the road.

I’ve been writing songs about what’s happening in my life at any given time since I was a child, and began recording and releasing those songs professionally when I was 17 — still very much a child. Life was all the way off the rails for me back then, and so is everything I did and wrote during that time.

My discography exists in two parts: 1998-2008 sounds like drugs and violence because everything around me was drugs and violence. 2009-now sounds like a person putting things back together after all the drugs and violence. I do my best to stay compassionate with myself about the lot of it, and I am ultimately glad it all exists — but it’s so incredibly hard to look at, in parts. I was a very sad, unwell person for many years, and that comes through loud and clear in all of those tracks from before.

My songs have never been about answers, and they still aren’t. Even now, as a happy, well person, I am all questions and nothing else. It has been this way for as long as I can remember. These albums are just a reflecting pool; kinda hard to make out, quite like the years.

Some of you have been with me this whole time, others have joined at points along the way, and many of you are just getting here now. However you found me and my songs, and however long you have been around, I hope you all know how much it means to me that you are here.

And for anyone about to dig into my back catalog: Apologies in advance. It was the 90s and I was freebasing cocaine.

XO
Logan

I was the guest on this week’s episode of the Mentally Together Podcast with Cassidy Quinn, chatting about recovery and wellness and music and things.

Listen here if ya wanna. 💙

It’s Mental Health Awareness Month and calls to the national hotline providing emergency help to people suffering from emotional distress are up 891% from this time last year. People are suffering, and the isolation and separation we are all experiencing as a result of this pandemic are taking a toll.

As someone who has struggled with mental and behavioral health issues my whole life, I’m feeling so grateful to be in a good place these days — though I picked a hell of a time to be stone cold sober.

It took me years to find the right anxiety medication, decades to work through the experiences which were fueling my previous addiction, and a lifetime to find compassion for myself in the midst of it all…but I’m there now.

Whenever the light in my life disappears I try and remind myself that light actually has to travel 6 trillion miles and takes a full earth year to move through space before we ever see it on this planet. That doesn’t mean the light wasn’t there the whole time. It just takes a light year to actually get to us. If you are in a place right now where it’s not visible, I promise it’s still there, and will make its way to you again eventually.

Please don’t suffer alone. If you text HOME to 741741 there are licensed professionals available 24/7 to talk with you and can help connect you to resources. And I’m here for you, too. Don’t hesitate to reach out. 🖤