Hello friends, and welcome to Accidental Days. Thank you for being here and taking a chance on my music. If you're willing to journey with me through a bit of prose alongside listening to the tunes, then I'd love for you to continue reading this Bandcamp-exclusive essay that I've written to introduce the album - particularly in the context of this website and the option to download the album for free or pay-what-you-want.

To begin, I'd like to present a thought experiment:
Imagine a way of life where the art you enjoy and the manner by which you enjoy it is deeply personal and relational.
Instead of browsing through bestselling novels on your tablet, you take an evening to read through the manuscript that your co-worker just finished, or the essay that your spouse typed up over the weekend, or the latest chapter in the incredible fan-fiction that your cousin writes passionately but can never legally publish.
Instead of driving to the movie theater on a Friday night to see the latest big-studio blockbuster, you ride you bike to the community center to see a local theater troupe perform a play - better yet, perhaps it's an original play written by someone in town.
Instead of playing the radio in the confines of your house or car, you and your neighbors meet up on the back porch to play music on your acoustic guitars together, with no pressure to play songs everyone knows - maybe one neighbor shares snippets of an original song she's been working on, and later on, a friend attempts to improvise a new song on the spot.

Idyllic as these scenarios may be, I deeply long for a world where we reclaim art as a natural extension of our communities and friendships with one another, rather than always treating art as this distant thing that's primarily being made by special people and famous celebrities whom we'll never meet or get to know. I don't mean to discredit the quality of creations that have big names or big studios or big budgets behind them; to be sure, brilliant works of art can be found throughout Netflix and Amazon and Barnes & Noble and Spotify. In fact, the point that I'm making has very little to do with the discussion of "quality." My point is that we have, to a large extent, lost touch with the power of art to form and benefit our local communities.

Local art can foster friendship and growth in a way that's hard to compare with - oh, what should I call it? - global art. When I attend massive concerts for nationally touring artists, I don't often talk to the people in the seats around me; yet when I go see small bands playing at a church or coffeehouse down the street, it's hard not to meet people and exchange numbers or socials. When I go to the movie theater, no one sticks around afterwards to discuss the movie with strangers (in fact, the theater staff is expecting you to leave in order to prepare for the next showing); yet when I see musicals or improv shows at a school or performance center, people usually stick around to talk for hours. It's beautiful, and it points toward the culture-creating, character-forming power of art when the context of the art is personal and relational.

This new album is my little contribution toward creating a world like the one I've described above. Accidental Days is an album all about relationships: with ourselves and our friends, with spouses and exes, with jobs and to-do's, with our anxieties and exhaustion, and with God. These songs were written with and about and for the amazing people in my life, and I now offer them back to you as a free gift, as a deeply indebted "thank you" for all the ways that you've influenced me and inspired me, for all the roles you've played in my life, both big and small.

Thirty-eight minutes of music might not be much - especially in a climate where music is often treated as content to be used for the backgrounds of parties and the ambience of grocery stores and the emotional efficacy of advertisements - but it is my great desire that these songs will serve you beyond offering mere entertainment. I pray that these songs will be a balm for the aching heart, a tight hug for those struggling to process heartbreaks, an encouragement for those buried under anxiety and responsibility, and a fresh dose of hope for dealing with hard relationships and harsh realities.

I know the truth: you don't need more music. None of us do. The industry has been supersaturated for years. If no one releases new music ever again, there would already exist more than enough music for you to spend the rest of your life constantly hearing new songs. Every time I release new music, I face the dread of the void: the unavoidable disappointment of sharing works of art that have been deeply meaningful to me (not to mention costly, time-consuming, and energy-depleting), knowing all the while that it will get buried beneath millions of other, more prominent songs.

I can attempt to brag or garner empathy for all the sweat and tears that I've put toward creating this album, yet in the grand scheme of things, those sweat and tears are dripping into an ocean that is demonstrably not in need of more liquid. So I'm not trying to sell you on my music because I'm some abnormally talented person making superior quality songs. I'm just an average guy working an average day job where I use my days off to record music that I love.

I suspect that many of you are here because you know me to some extent outside of music, and I hope that I've been a caring friend or a positive influence or an encouraging acquaintance, whatever the context may be. And the fact that you're here now is precisely the fruit I'm hoping to see through my striving toward local art and communal enjoyment of each other's creations. Sure, it's always cool when my streaming numbers are blowing up thanks to a song placement on a trendy playlist, but those fleeting statistics can't compare with the pride and joy I experience when I see that a familiar name has just downloaded one of my albums.

I also feel incredibly humbled and blessed whenever anyone chooses to defy the free download option and provide a payment for my music. I want to be clear here that I am very lucky to have a full-time job that allows me to make music, and I should be able to continue making music for the foreseeable future without needing any of my albums turn a profit. So while I heartily accept gifts from those who have the desire and the fiscal flexibility to do so, I also want everyone who's downloading this album for free that you genuinely have my support and blessing in doing so.

As I said before, this album is a gift to you, and the time that you are spending reading my words and hearing my songs is a gift in itself, for which I am incredibly grateful. Thank you.

(If you are here as someone I've never met before in person or online, I hope that won't stay the case forever If you'd like to reach out, I'm always available via music@chasetremaine.com, and if you have art that you would like to share with me, I would be honored to experience what you've crafted. Whenever fitting, I will share your art with my followers, newsletter readers, and so on. Even if you have no desire to reach out or have no art to share, I'm so happy that you're here. Thank you for reading, and enjoy the album!)