Quarantine has been taking a really big toll on me without me realizing it. After a few weeks of seeing no one close to me, I had no motivation to do anything at all. I was sick with a cold for the first week of isolation and it took a lot for me to get out of bed, let alone get any work done. I thought I might have the virus but my doctor assured me he didn’t think I did and to just rest.

With the never ending changes of the music industry, musicians have to be ready for their world to come crashing down at any given moment. Handing over responsibilities or relying on others may not always be beneficial to the artist but can become a learning experience. Just ask Sleeptalk.

Since releasing their debut album in 2017, the five members spent a year holding back on releasing music due to record label contracts and false promises. Not only was the label changing but so was the industry and how music was being released. They realized that this was their time to step back and understand the progression their world was going through before moving forward.

This was also their time to step back and understand each other, especially because they had brought a new drummer, Tyler Kusnier, into the mix.

“He brought a way different aspect of drumming to our band which led to more possibilities,” vocalist Anthony Fitzpatrick said. “We had to relearn writing with each other again, which was cool that it gave us the opportunity to really dive in on different techniques and different styles… It's extremely different from something that we’ve ever done. It really helped us all grow together and put a different twist on what we normally do.”

“Introducing [Kusnier] to this mix really reinvigorated our passion for playing music in general,” guitarist Justin Melchor added. “Having that in addition to recording it all ourselves really sparked this huge drive to create new stuff without any boundaries. Having all this stuff has influenced me as a musician to be passionate about the music and the creation process itself.”

Enter the month that they call: “Sleeptalk Construction”. They converted bassist Paul McGill’s garage into a full blown studio; flooring, drywall, insulation, soundproofing - they did it all together.

“We took everything under our own wing,” Fitzpatrick said. “We were able to make it how we wanted it and I think that brought us together even more so because we were able to connect on a different level than just music.”

This bonding experience would reshape their passion even more, but also lead them to releasing music in a way they hadn’t before. In 2018 they only released two singles, “I Hope You’re Doing Well” and “Apart from You”, instead of their typical EP or LP route. Now that everything is on their terms, they were able to release the Desert Days EP in 2019 and have several songs planned for 2020, including their current single, “Trouble”.

“Trouble” brings out the electronic influence that they decided on when they released Desert Days and was actually meant to be part of an electronic-themed EP that they’ve since decided to hold off on. While it’s still a possibility they’re willing to consider, they didn’t want to dive right into a full electronic sound and have fans think they are completely changing their style of music. Integrating their rock influences with these new electronic influences is their ultimate goal and the type of music that makes them the happiest.

“We’re all ready to push some boundaries,” Melchor said. “We told ourselves not to say ‘we’re this band so we can't do this.’”

By disregarding many of the stereotypical music industry practices and finding ways to make it on their own, Sleeptalk has gone from dependent to independent in a short amount of time. That doesn’t make it a bad thing; in fact, this change has allowed them to fully understand themselves as musicians and as a family. The music to come will only be the best representation of themselves, and that’s all they’ve ever wanted.

Daydreaming as a teenager always seemed so mystical, yet almost achievable. For Nashville-based singer/songwriter Jamie Jean, she channeled her teenage daydreams into her latest single, “I Can Dream Can’t I?”.

She stumbled across the title in an old music book she found at her grandmother’s house, and she knew that one day she would write a song around it. She said that she didn’t intentionally set out to write the song the way it turned out but started with a “dreamy vibe” and went from there.

“I had this idea of thinking of the fact that in high school you just have a weird perspective on relationships,” she said. “For me, in high school I lived in my head a lot and there was one guy specifically that we tried to date and it didn't work out and I would dream about dating him because I wasn't ready to, I guess.”

While she wasn’t ready to date her high school crush, she was ready to write this song. On a memorable day for more than one reason, the song came to her in about 10 minutes and after sending a demo of the song to her producer, Cole Phillips, they knew it was her next single.

She hopes listeners take away from the song that continuing to dream and think of life more innocently can add a little bit of levity to the world, especially at a time where the world desperately needs it.

The release of “I Can Dream Can’t I?” marks her venture into the pop side of music, whereas her first EP released in 2018, Jamie Jean, had more of a folk vibe.

“I released the first EP because I needed to get the ball rolling with music because I was just putting it off,” she said. “We can all be afraid of the things we want to do and that’s exactly what I was doing. [Jamie Jean] was more of just throwing something out there and this is more the path I want to be going on.”

She also released her first music video for the song; something that she didn’t originally intend to do. She struck up a conversation with someone at a party that ultimately led her to the video’s director, Luke Harvey of Moss Flower Pictures. She sent him a Pinterest board of ideas and used Goodwill as her main source of decorations to create a visual that perfectly coincides with the vibe of the song.

Jamie Jean still daydreams, but nowadays she prefers to make those daydreams a reality. As she continues to explore who she is as as artist, she is sure to find that those daydreams make exceptional songs.

Laying around Vaeda Black’s house are notebooks. Dating as far back as her days as a preschooler, these notebooks are filled with phonetically spelled words that roughly translate into her very first songs. Her songwriting - and spelling - has improved over time, and is a beautiful look back into where her passion started.

Her parents shared not only their creative genes with her but introduced her to a variety of music at an early age. Her pre-teen years were when she found her own taste in music, and by the time high school came around she knew music was a career she wanted to pursue.

“I grew up around creativity and I think that really inspired me to create as well,” she said. “I feel like being in this environment has shown me how to express myself artistically and that's probably why I love it.”

Music became an emotional outlet for her, and she found that final push into the music industry during a summer catering job. She was on the set of a music video, and the woman in charge of the catering company introduced her to the producer of the music video.

“He actually really helped me start getting serious about what I was doing because I just thought of it as a hobby before,” she said. “I think if I hadn't taken that job I probably would not be where I am today.”

She has learned a lot about her songwriting process and how difficult she finds it to be if it’s not authentic or a topic she is passionate about. Whether it stems from a poem written down in the Notes app on her phone or a melody she finds herself humming around the house, she finds inspiration from being around people or something she’s personally going through.

Her background in acting is where her love for storytelling comes from, and she recently used that concept in her single “Drunken Tears”. She thoroughly enjoys being able to put herself in somebody else’s place and understand who they are and what they’re going through. She mixes that with her love of horror to create lyrics such as “need to pick a bone, your ribs will be just fine”.

“I want to explore parts of myself through somebody else's perspective,” she said. “Sometimes writing from a different perspective, maybe one that's not necessarily your own or your beliefs, helps you understand that different perspective so I think it's important to play with that.”

Vaeda Black may not be filling up notebooks with lyrics these days, but her love for music hasn’t gone anywhere. She has learned a lot about herself and is using those learning experiences to continue to create music she is passionate about.

When I was fourteen, I got heavy into slam poetry. I would stare at my computer screen (open to my now regrettably deleted tumblr) and scroll through hours of miscellaneous faces speaking or yelling or whispering their pseudo-profundities. One of those faces was a poet by the name of Neil Hilborn. While slam poetry lost my interest as suddenly as it caught my attention, it was one of Neil’s works (or, rather, one of Neil’s lines) that always stuck with me; an excerpt from his poem “The Future” goes as follows:

“I think a lot about killing myself, not like a point on a map but rather like a glowing exit sign at a show that’s never been quite bad enough to make me want to leave.”

He was right.

I had been suicidal for eight years at that point and would remain suicidal for four more. I wondered why I didn’t just do it. Why didn’t I just kill myself? Was it for a higher power? No, I didn’t believe in one. Was it for my loved ones? No, they would all die eventually, too, and take the collateral damage from my death with them. Was it for myself? No, I hated myself. Was it for my potential? Now, we’re onto something…

I have never been an active participant in my life. My life has been a show I watch in a theater empty except for myself. And, the exit sign. I loathe the show. The “protagonist”, if we can even call her that, from whose perspective the show is from is two-dimensional. She is water. She is whatever you put in her or put her in but nothing in and of herself. It is exhausting watching her project the front that she is someone when she is, in fact, no one. She is a husk, a papier mache person poorly masquerading as knock-off archetypes. While the main character lacks substance, the supporting characters, settings and plot lines blatantly boast some sort of potential but are grossly neglected. There’s a certain meta irony of the show in that it’s entire focus is on how much it sucks. Everything else is so secondary it is virtually nonexistent. The exit sign’s glowing red reminder is a security blanket assuring me that there is always a way out, at least. In the vacant theater, it was my companion and my comfort. Yet, I stuck around, just in case the show ever got good. After all, it was less about exiting and more about having the option to exit.

But, then something happened. It started when I first saw my psychiatrist at eighteen. With once weekly therapy sessions and twice daily medication, the exit sign began to dim. I didn’t notice it immediately. It wasn’t until months into my recovery that I noticed the flicker. The sign had shone so brightly for so long, but now it was barely visible. Before long, it went out completely. The moment the darkness engulfed me, anxiety swelled in my chest like a puffer fish. The old fallback was gone. I was going to have to see this show through to the end, for better or for worse. Instead of staring at the exit sign, I turned my attention to the screen. When I did, something changed.

Suddenly, I wasn’t in the theater anymore ― I was in the show itself. I was the protagonist I so despised. Even more to my surprise, the entire thing was self-directed. It hit me all at once that it was now my responsibility to make this show good.

Realizing this, a heavy weight crashed down on my already burdened shoulders. I had to make choices. I had to participate. I had to make the changes required to make this show at least bearable, lest I live in misery. The first step? Workshopping the protagonist (i.e., myself).

After spending a lifetime of excruciatingly yet shoddily modeling myself after what I thought I should be, I finally surrendered to what I was. I had to finally make decisions based on what I actually like, dislike, want, believe in, etc. rather than what I thought I should. Instead of asking myself, “What would Mackenzie be like?”, I began asking myself, “What am I like?”, viewing myself as myself rather than dissociating. I stopped obsessing over perfecting the character, an amalgamation of others’ perceptions and my expectations of myself, instead acting on instinct and inclination. I am still undergoing this process, finding out more about myself every day. I replaced a lifetime’s worth of rigid character scripting with one guiding principle: I will do what makes me happy and become a product of it.

Still, I obviously do not have the luxury of doing whatever I want.This is where the second step in directing the show comes into play ― addressing the settings and supporting characters. The rule for this is as follows: do what you can where you are with what you have. I started working on my relationship with others and my relationship with my environment. Before, I had drifted through life like a shadow person, never taking advantage of my surrounding people, places and things and how they could better my life. I took for granted so much while trapped in my own pitiful self-absorption. Now, I refuse to miss out anymore. Now, I’m no longer going to kill myself, so there’s no excuse to remain distant. I talk to the people around me. I meet new people. I spend time with loved ones. I create a home for myself out of the places I have at my disposal. I do all the things I was too busy hating myself to do before.

Do not misunderstand me ― these things were not easy. They were necessary. I struggle every day practicing this new way of life. I struggle every day trying to be true to myself. I struggle every day using the tools at my disposal to construct a happy life for myself. Some days, I miss the exit sign that once relieved my ache for change. I didn’t know back then that the only way to change the way I felt was to change the way I lived.

Ray - drums, percussion, backing vocals: Today I rearranged shelving in our kitchen using a hand saw and listening to Traditional Techniques by Stephen Malkmus on repeat. I'm watching Bernie Sanders videos and speeches and developing an impersonation of him. My wife and I are cooking great meals and binge watching High Maintenance. I discovered that the newly furnished but vacant apartment next to us is unlocked. There's a washer and dryer in the apartment, so I'm plotting some justifiable trespassing.