This song represents the transition between the end of the work day and the beginning of your free time when, occasionally, you reflect on what you’re doing with your life, who you are as a person and how that compares to what you expect of yourself. Very few of us are the perfect image of what we envisioned as a child. We consider the events and the people who “corrupted” us. Maybe you don’t have these thoughts, in which case you’re stronger than I. Then again, I think the maximum number of pullups I’ve ever done at once is three so I’m not much to compete with.

Overview

The instrumental came from the original pack I took home from Rawhide’s in 2012. I don’t have its original title because I believe I asked Rawhide to extend it when it wasn’t long enough. An interesting fact, however, is that Rawhide had the “Album” field filled out and it was labeled “When I Get to Hell.” That means that, at some point, he intended for the instrumental to be used on his When I Get to Hell EP and he either couldn’t find a purpose for it, or I stole it out from under him.

It actually looks like the last time I touched the lyric document was April 12, 2014, which makes it the first song on the album I had my parts done with. Dan and I mixed it, which you can infer since I already said we mixed every track together. Another point of interest is that this and “Cold Turkey” are the only songs on the album that are “clean” by FCC standards. Neither was intentionally created that way.

Let Me Dickride Knowle’ge a Bit

I first saw Knowle’ge my freshman year at SUNY Potsdam. The Black Student Alliance hosted a talent show and I decided to check it out. Knowle’ge ended up winning, starting with a high energy track and then slowing down into his song “Can’t Do This Again.”

The way he criticized his persona in the song but couldn’t seem to stop his abusiveness was like a sound mind trapped in an unsound person. It really resonated with me. I found out a little later that Knowle’ge grew up in Albany, the county right next to mine.

By that point my album Alternate Ending was just about done. Around that same time, Rawhide and I became friends and allies and from that relationship I crafted Cracks on Memory Lane and together we made Whiteout!. I considered reaching out to Knowle’ge to be on both, but neither of them had a song that fit his style.

Early in the process of creating Fear of Success I had written “Ghost of my Past.” There was a short while I was calling it “Ghost of my Own Past” but, eh, that sounded superfluous. As soon as I finished my two verses and chorus, I knew it was the song I would finally ask Knowle’ge to grace. I must have told him I’d send him something “soon” for two years before I finally recorded my parts. He took a little while to perfect his verse but sent it back flawless. Even Dan, who went to Potsdam and knew Knowle’ge said “holy shit” when he heard it. The way it goes from this rapid, panicking flow to a gradual acceptance was nothing short of genius artistry. Then again, I’m the guy who knew this was the perfect song for him so I’ll take a small finders fee of your credit, thank you very much.

Commentary

Found my first white hair from a fear of success

This line inspired the album title, not the other way around. My first white hair, however, inspired the line. Now they’re all over my head.

It reveals a lot but not as much as a scrapbook
Flippin’ back through the pages to decipher the path took
Take a look at my life with dispassionate cataracts
Other than these brown eyes, that Adam is shattered glass
As a matter of fact that’s me, the kid in the picture

I was going for imagery of me flipping through a scrapbook of childhood photos but instead of reliving the memories fondly, I’m trying to figure out the exact moment that light in my eyes flickered out.

Feel like a ghost of my past
This and a joke when I ask if I can go the way back
No, I’ve chosen my path, but who is this?
This don’t seem like the same kid you grew up with
No, this is a man who’s been chewed up and spitted out
Till he put on a show, forgot to know and couldn’t figure out
Who he is like it never was bred-in-the-bone
Only time I see the real me is when I’m alone

I know I said “Perfect for Me” is my favorite song I’ve ever written and I stand by that, but I think the “Ghost of my Past” has the best chorus I’ve ever written.

Evidence is that I acted black, adapted an accent
But it sounded unnatural, listen to my tracks from the past when
I tried to be gangsta, an album called Target Practice
Now I got every last print stashed under the mattress

Here is Target Practice. I’ve come to terms with it. It was 2004, a year I had completely lost myself. I was fifteen years old and, save for a couple of songs, I wasn’t making music to share thoughts and experiences. I was doing it to seem cool, popular and be accepted. It resulted in none of those. I was wearing fitted hats everywhere, sometimes even with a bandanna underneath if I was going somewhere I didn’t think it would cause a scene. I even trained myself to speak as “black” as possible and, to this day, there are still some words I pronounce differently.

I moved back into my childhood home right around the time I finished it and, after reacquainting with some friends, I realized that I didn’t need to look, sound or act a part to be “hip-hop.” This stemmed from the fact that my clique wasn’t comprised of hip-hop fans at all. Most of them were metal heads. I didn’t have long hair or a Dimmu Borgir shirt, but I fit in. So to be “hip-hop,” I didn’t need to look like a ghetto survival story, I just needed to be passionate.

I began work on Obey Me with the intent of keeping the few songs on Target Practice that weren’t blatant culture-jacking and erasing everything else. For a long time I really did have a folder under my bed with print outs of the album artwork. It wasn’t until 2014 that I put it on Bandcamp because I was so proud of how Fear of Success was coming along that I realized it was kind of an important artifact of my growth as an artist. It was an impressionable time for me. Now I’m trying to make an impression.

Before my mom brought coke home in a Ziploc baggy

Babysitter found her sniffing it in the bedroom. There was a certain level of shock to this line but then I posted the “Cold Turkey” write up and now you just expect this.