I think a lot about the relationship between art and artist. Do you have to respect everything about an artist’s life in order to enjoy her or his music? Or, can you appreciate music simply on the basis of enjoying what comes out of the speakers?

The latter accords with the formalist literary movement of New Criticism argued for the consideration of art as a self-contained work; all that matters is the work itself, rather than details of the artist’s life or his/her agenda, political or otherwise. “Meta,” in the sense of its self-referentiality.

It’s a tidy idea. Granted, I’m a bit of a hound for context, and my curiosity always has me wondering about artists’ personal lives. (This is less driven by a desire to turn gods into mortals, and more informed by my own plight as a creative person; in learning more about artists, I hope to find inspiration from their struggle, e.g., “Wow, so-‘n’-so managed to make that album while raising a toddler?”) From there, I can decide if that additional context enhances, is a non-factor to, or detracts from the work.

As is, I have a hard time finding art that moves me, particularly contemporarily, so when I do find it, I’m biased toward wanting to like it rather than depriving myself of a rare good score. Anyone can be critiqued to death. Anyone. It’s more interesting and far braver to champion someone/something than to tear down. Who deserves a statue in the middle of your city? Are you sure about that?

I’m spit-balling a bit, if only because I’m coming off two days without caffeine and some morning coffee reawakened my brain.

Art’s subjective, because the lenses we’ve cultivated are unique (hopefully, anyway). As someone who has willingly put himself out there—on stage, on recordings, on video, and in published works—at the risk of whatever criticism, for his entire adulthood, well, I have above-average sympathy for any people who put themselves out there in their own way, via whichever medium. The world—in terms of art and creativity, but also civilization itself(!)—is built upon ideas, and it takes a degree of guts to expose those ideas to daylight where they might be applauded, or end a person’s ability to show her/his face in public, or, perhaps worst of all, be ignored.

My inspiration for these thoughts comes as I once again cue up the 2026 song “Bad Actor” by Sir Gregory FK. I hate to say it, but Greg “GD” Mills is not only an ex-bandmate of mine—from my beloved-if-brief time as touring bassist for his Minneapolis-based band, Fuck Knights—but also an ex-friend. I hesitate to equate that to “current foe” or enemy, but whatever we are/aren’t, it was his choice, not mine, and I disagree with it. Disappointing, to say the least. Haven’t heard from him in over a decade, and likely never will. 

When I ran into an old mutual friend this year, I wondered if Greg had still been making music, because from what I’d heard he was never able to shake the pesky rock’n’roll possession any more than I could.

What I found was a song/groove that has now been in my head for weeks. When something improves my life like this, I can’t help but share it—maybe it’ll do the same for others who happen to need a boost more than I do.

So here it is. Despite my having sadly personal reasons to not like this song, I find it undeniably good. Song of the year for me so far.

Now, is that big of me? Or is it weak and unprincipled?

Enjoy, and/or judge away:

-Matty

Bonus throwback footage—personally, possibly un-dethrone-able—from the Muddy Udders/Fuck Knights tour: