The Muse’s Beauty

My first album was written in deep depression. As I finished it, I ended up in a relationship with a BEAUTIFUL Jamaican girl. It changed my perspective on the music I was making, but it was too late. An album full of suicide letters was born, without real experience of what life can bring (albeit personal tragedies).

That momentum pushed me to album number 2. Super confident (because I got a girl), super creative, but developed a bond with melancholy music.

Ahh. Music.

The muse of all muses.

It’s safe to say that every song is a love letter to music. For better or worse, till death do us part. I get ugly (w/my fine ass) when it comes to music. From keeping coughs and belches to only recording one take, I literally build the gumption necessary to say what I wilt and put it all on the line. Rivera saw it. Tony New sees it every time we record. Portals… astral projection… doom force… Hell… Heaven… Harlem… Egypt. Space.

I go there.

Music is my muse. Music gives me the courage to explore. Can’t say I’m a coward, I just defuse more than engage in combat. Though some niggas only learn through physical means. God got my defense. Even if I make a song to another (love song, diss track, etc.), it’s done with love. And not blind or vacant love. Like I love music. To express it is to open my chest and bleed gore onto whatever you’re reading this with. 

To do that would be to make another song.

Expect a downpour of Hamiltunes.

It’s Charles Hamilton.