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gentle collapse
Join
The ask

I need
your help.

I have never been good at this part. Asking feels like admitting the work cannot stand up on its own, and it took me a long time to understand that it is the opposite.

Music like this has always been carried by the people who happened to hear it and decided it should keep existing. Not by a label, not by a platform, not by an algorithm. By somebody putting a record on for somebody else.

So here is what actually helps, in the order of what it costs you. Most of it is free, and the free things matter more than the dollar.

A road curving down through dark forest at dusk

Every good thing
I have been part of
started this way.

  1. 01

    Send it to one person

    Free

    Not a hundred. One, who you actually think would like it. That is how every record I have ever loved reached me, and it is the only distribution this project has.

  2. 02

    Play it out loud

    Free

    In a kitchen, in a car, in a shop you work in. Music played in a room where other people are is worth more than a save on a playlist nobody opens.

  3. 03

    Tell me where you are

    Free

    The join form asks for a town and that is the only reason it asks. When enough people in one place have said so, I come and play there.

    Where I have played
  4. 04

    Join for a dollar

    $1, once

    It buys you everything I make, and it buys me the ability to make the next one. Nothing renews and there is nothing to cancel.

    Join
  5. 05

    Ask for a song

    Free

    If you are making something — a film, a room, a service, a video for someone you lost — and a song of mine fits it, write and ask. The answer is usually yes and it costs nothing to ask.

  6. 06

    Write back

    Free

    Tell me what a song did or did not do. I read everything that arrives. It is not a small thing to hear that something landed.

Anything else, or just to say hello: hello@gentlecollapse.com

And

Thank you.

To everyone who has put me up for a night, lent an amp, driven four hours to stand in a room, played on something for nothing, or sat through a version of a song that was not working yet: this exists because of you and I know it.

To whoever is reading this having never heard of me until ten minutes ago — thank you for getting this far down the page. That is already more than most things get.

Nobody has joined yet. Somebody has to be first, and that number is never going to be more meaningful than it is right now.

Nothing here got made alone.
It never does.

The mailing list

Hear about the next volume.

Everything after Vol I goes to members and to this list. Nowhere else, and no more often than there is something to hear.