Matt Forney
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stevie moore

What the Fuck is Your Excuse? R. Stevie Moore Edition

What the Fuck is Your Excuse? is a brand-new, once-in-a-blue-moon series of posts designed to shame (yes, shame; get over it, MRA crybabies) men into getting off their rear-ends and making their dreams reality. Are you the kind of person who’s constantly saying stuff like:

“Man, I wish I could learn how to play the drums, but I don’t have time to practice.”

“Man, I wish I could backpack around the world, but I can’t quit my unrewarding office job.”

“Man, I wish I could pick up girls, but I’m too ugly and shy.”

If the answer is yes, this series is specifically about you. This series, at it’s core, is about this simple message:

Fuck. Your. Excuses.

If there’s something you want to do with your life and you don’t start working on it now, it’s never going to happen. Your boss isn’t magically going to give you six months off so you can go trip balls and chase hookers in Cambodia. A smoking hot babe with Iron Chef-level culinary chops is not going to spontaneously fall into your arms. If you want something, you have to go out and get it.

Who the hell is R. Stevie Moore, you might ask? He’s a musician who records and releases albums like many rock musicians. The difference between Moore and your favorite artist, aside from the fact that Moore is kind of an oddball, is that:

  1. Moore records his albums at home using his own equipment and self-releases most of them.
  2. He’s been doing this since 1966 and has released over 400 albums since then.

Think about that. This guy’s been recording and releasing his music for nearly half a century, starting when he was a teenager, most of that time without the technological advancements we take for granted. There was no Internet back in 1966, no Macbooks, and definitely no fucking GarageBand. If you wanted to record an album back then, you either need to sign with a record label or pay for the equipment yourself. Going the former route was nearly impossible and only happened for a select group of artists. And if you went the latter route, there was no convenient way of getting the word out about your music, aside from word of mouth.

R. Stevie Moore said “fuck it” and recorded his own songs anyway, and when major record labels wouldn’t touch it, he put it out there himself.

400 plus albums in nearly fifty years works out to about ten plus albums recorded per year. How often does your favorite band release new material? Not counting shitty hippie jam bands like Phish and the Grateful Dead (for whom most albums are live ones), most musicians can’t even manage one album a year, let alone ten. And remember, Moore plays all the instruments himself.

Here’s a pretty good, brief interview Pitchfork did with R. Stevie Moore, concentrating on the fact that he’s now touring and doing live performances for the first time in his career:

In light of R. Stevie Moore’s unlikely triumphs, I ask this simple question:

What the Fuck is Your Excuse?

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