Thots on making The Feral EP
You don't know what's going to happen to you, so don't write yourself off.
Last month I recorded an EP of four original songs under my music name Feral Teen and put them up on Bandcamp, Spotify, Tidal, Apple—the streaming works. I haven’t done much $*^&pRoMo@*#$ for The Feral EP, partly because I get a bit self-conscious (I know, “grow up”) and partly because making the thing was what I’d focused on, not really the next steps. But lately I’ve wanted to reflect back on the process, and I remembered I have this dormant substack I can post on. So, here are some thots, if you’re interested (otherwise feel free to get off my ‘stack!).
First, a little about my music history: I’ve been writing and performing music as “Feral Teen” since 2018, but have been singing or playing music off and on since I was a kid. I used to sing along to tapes of Sarah Vaughan and Ella Fitzgerald in my room when I was less than two digits old. My older brothers each half-taught me guitar, and I played saxophone in the school band until middle school when I was too embarrassed to carry my case in the hall in front of cute boys (maybe Hillary Clinton can write a tweet to me, too). Some time in middle school I started writing songs on acoustic guitar, and I’d perform them at this live music coffeehouse called The Neutral Ground that me and my brothers loved (last year, AFTER 40 YEARS, they lost their lease when a developer bought the building, and they’re still looking for a new space). My brother Chris and I briefly had a duo called The Waning Mooneys where we played some of our respective original songs, and also covers like Wond’ring Aloud by Jethro Tull and Winter by Tori Amos–eclectic! In high school, I was in chorus and the a capella group, and I continued to write songs and play them sometimes at school or school-adjacent artsy functions, and sang at least once with my boyfriend’s ska-reggae band (LOL)—No Doubt’s Sunday Morning.
Around senior year of high school I developed a pretty bad case of psychosomatic anxiety, for lack of a better way to describe it, around my voice and the act of singing, that made participating in music feel too emotionally fraught to be worth it. In college I still dabbled a bit, performing one show, singing every now and then with friends’ bands. Although I often felt conflicted about the loss of music in my life, I resigned myself to appreciating others’ music, and only singing drunk karaoke and songs I made up about (and to) the dog for the next decade and change.
Fast forward to spring of 2018, when I was laid off from my full-time journalism job. I got some severance and then unemployment, rewatched all of Friday Night Lights in one week, wallowed in a sloth-like state for probably a month before hustling at freelance writing again. Around that time, I was listening to Phoebe Bridgers’ debut album and Snail Mail and Soccer Mommy and Lucy Dacus, that whole wave of songwriters who felt exciting and inspiring at the time. Maybe it was the laid-off doldrums opening up time and brain space for me, or my being genuinely excited about the music I was listening to, but I remember getting the urge to sing, like almost feeling MOVED to do it. I ordered an Ovation guitar on Amazon for under $200 and started fucking around in my room, recording myself on voice memos. I wrote a song, and then another, and another. This time, I didn’t feel neurotic or overly focused on how I sounded, probably because I was more immersed in the creativity of songwriting vs “perfection” of vocals, and distracted by the novelty–and relief!–of actually doing it again for the first time in over a decade when I never imagined I ever would! (Reminder: you don’t have any idea what’s going to happen to you, so don’t write yourself off.) That summer my friend Maddie put on an art show with music and poetry in the backyard of Shoestring Press, and I performed a set for the first time as Feral Teen. (I think Maddie may have called me a “feral teenager” when we were on mushrooms camping at Lake George that same summer, which is where I got the name idea from, but I’ll have to confirm with her haha.)
My friend Pat who I met at the aforementioned journalism job is a great songwriter, singer, and musician–check out Labrador!—and we started collaborating on shows together at places like Sunnyvale (since-closed venue across from PUMPS lol) C’mon Everybody, Rubulad (shoutout Ghan who curated that show, and who has composed and performed some wild tunes for his sci-fi musical podcast Spacetime Diaries) Troost, and Mama Tried. I played a set at Dan’s Silverleaf in Denton, Texas with my brother Davy, who’s a songwriter and jazz guitarist, which was very fun. I met some great musicians who worked at one of my favorite cafes, Brooklyn Kolache. In Feb 2020, I put together a lineup at Troost of four singers plus me–Laura Zarougian, Michelle Roach, Veronica Davila of Low Roller, Madison Kate who now fronts Trinket. I decided I’d make a habit of curating shows, try to create a little scene…we know what happened next. But the pandemic at least wasn’t an unfruitful time for me when it came to writing songs. And there were a few goofy Instagram Live music things while we could stand it, and then that summer, when we all went outside, park and backyard shows.
Throughout all of this, I’d ponder recording. I had more than an album’s worth of songs on a Soundcloud, recorded in my room on voice memos. But I was embarrassed about the quality, and honestly didn’t want anyone to hear them. “I need to record properly, it’s on my list…” was a disclaimer I often made when the topic came up. But then whenever I thought about the process I’d get overwhelmed. Where to do it? What would it cost? What if I’m not good enough yet to record? What if it sounds bad and then I have this thing I hate? Should I record solo or get a band together first? How do I get a band together?” So I put a pin in it.
I slowed down a bit with music over 2021/2022, and felt some of my old neuroses creeping back. So in January 2023 I made it a resolution to check out open mics and get in the habit of playing regularly again, with the idea that’d help me feel less precious about the whole thing. I sampled a few but Bar Freda was the one that won me over–just a really nice, talented community of folks who get together every Monday night. Feel-good but low on the cringe, which is the best you can hope for.
Through this mic I met Matt Willhelm, a great musician and a very nice dude who also records folks. After chatting with him about it I felt he got what I was going for: clean takes, guitar played in time to a click, minimal effects beyond a little reverb on the mic. (Doesn’t it feel like too many recorded voices these days have been so steamed out you can’t even hear any texture?) We scheduled a session about a month later at his space in Ridgewood.
An EP length felt like a manageable number of songs for my first go at recording. Because I was drawing on roughly 5 years of songs, I picked a mix of old and new, upbeat and ballady, indie and folksy. We ran through four songs pretty seamlessly in a day. Matt was great at both letting the session flow, but also stepping in here and there with suggestions and redirections. By evening he uploaded the strongest takes of each song. I listened to them over the next week or so and highlighted spots I thought needed addressing–a sloppy guitar intro which we then spliced in with a cleaner take, a word I didn’t properly enunciate that was irking me. Matt mixed and mastered the songs (do not ask me what “mixing and mastering” means) and then I uploaded them everywhere.
I decided to call it The Feral EP. For the cover art, I used a pic of me as a toddler. I’m wearing a purple onesie, barefoot in an unidentifiable dirt pit with a crushed can of Bud next to me.
I feel good about the EP. I’m glad I did it, and super thankful that I met Matt and that working with him was such a good fit. A recording is only a snapshot of you and your songs, by no means the be-all, end-all. There is no perfect, there’s just what feels right-enough, good-enough to you. When I think about old songs of mine that I can’t remember anymore, I sure wish I’d recorded them. It’s nice to have that stuff. And I do think the end product of the EP is an honest reflection of my initial goal: clean takes of my songs, true to my sound and style. For now!
Another important, and illuminating, thing to realize is once the songs are out there, they take on an identity outside of you. They matter and mean different things in the ears of those who listen. Sure the songs are mine, but they’re also…anyone’s. It’s not quite ego death, but it’s closer to it than before.
Oh also: those projects that are hanging over your head and you beat yourself up about how you haven’t done them…once you actually do them, the time you think you “wasted” before that loses all meaning. It just sort of disappears as a measurable entity, and you’re jolted to the present moment.
A little bit about the songs. Lyrics are on Bandcamp if that’s of interest.
Final Girl
I wrote this song in October 2020, when I was watching roughly a horror movie a day as a fun month challenge and because there was, you know, nothing else to do. So, I had horror tropes on the brain, and was kinda channeling a high school horror movie storyline. I was also listening to Samia’s great debut album during this time and I think her song “Stellate” influenced me a bit, with the sort of staccato guitar part and the spare vocal quality. There’s a bit of punky energy to this song too so I thought it’d make a good lead-off for the EP.
The Summer Song
This was an early one in my return-to-songwriting era, written in the aforementioned summer of 2018. I was having a kinda freewheeling, manic summer, and I remember getting all this energy at night and not knowing what to do with it so I’d take the dog on these endless walks around my neighborhood, listening to like, every Mitski album (I can’t listen to Mitski anymore). I think this song captures my vibe that summer.
Societal Daddy Issues (SDIs)
Wrote this one in 2021 and it’s full of stolen lines. I cribbed the title from something my friend Kelly texted me. I don’t know if she coined this phrase or what, but I found it, and still find it, extremely hilarious. (“SDIs” is mine lol.) I also quote my friend Dave in this, and roughly quote a Michael Shannon line in the great Jeff Nichols’ movie “Shotgun Stories”, which I cannot find anywhere, it’s vanished from the Earth, or at least from streaming or DVD. Possibly it’s on ebay? Please advise. I guess in this song I’m going for a kind of lilting alt-country thing. My friend Gleni once told me it was Jenny Lewis-esque, which is obviously a huge compliment.
Maybe She’s Born With It
This one is the newest song, written in late winter 2023. I started writing it one day when my teeth were hurting and it became this ballady meditation on how you can never get away from yourself. And whether you, or anyone else, can help the way that you are (or maybe it’s Maybelline).
Ok well if you made it this far, thanks for reading. I think my plan is to hopefully record more small batches of songs, kind of like Girlhouse did with her four EPs. Like this first one, they’ll also combine oldies and newer songs. I’m also hoping to put on a show sometime in the next few months. Maybe I’ll put some shit on Tiktok if I get bored!