Count me out.

Growing up, I never imagined I would feel embarrassed or ashamed to be an American. I was proud of this country and what it stood for. Today, however, I find myself struggling to recognize it.

The level of incompetence displayed by our leaders—on both sides of the aisle—is difficult to comprehend. It often feels like we're being governed by people who are disconnected from reality, while everyday Americans are left to deal with the consequences. Political theater has replaced leadership, and the people paying the price are the citizens who simply want a government that functions.

At this point, it seems our government can't even reliably perform some of its most basic responsibilities. Consider the postal service. Delivering the mail was one of the earliest and most fundamental duties of our nation. The United States Postal Service traces its roots back to July 26, 1775, when the Second Continental Congress established a postal system and appointed Benjamin Franklin as the first Postmaster General—making it older than the United States itself.

So what have we become? What do our leaders actually consider important anymore? Your guess is as good as mine. From where I stand, the priorities seem increasingly detached from the needs of ordinary Americans. It's disappointing, frustrating, and, above all, deeply sad.

I've reached a point where I no longer have confidence in the political process as it currently exists. I'll continue to fulfill my obligations as a citizen and pay my taxes, but when it comes to supporting a system that I believe has lost its way, count me out.

New World Vinyl Distribution

Over the years, I’ve released numerous titles on vinyl, including full-length 12-inch albums and several 45s. While there’s nothing quite like seeing a new pressing arrive, it can also be overwhelming when 500 records show up at your door on a shipping pallet—that’s roughly 60 boxes of inventory to manage.

Long-term storage has always been one of the biggest challenges. Vinyl records need to be protected in a climate-controlled environment to prevent warping and damage, much like a collector carefully stores a prized cigar collection.

For independent artists, selling through a run of 500 records can easily take a year or more. Transporting vinyl to shows presents another challenge, especially when you're hauling boxes through places like Manhattan. Fortunately, artists now have access to print-on-demand and fulfillment services that make the process much easier. A customer can order a title online, and the record is pressed, printed, and shipped directly to them.

You can check out my most recent releases here: https://elasticstage.com/marloweshepherd

You can also check out my Simple Sugar Merch line here:https://www.marloweshepherd.com/store

Cheers!

Is this the end?

Has anyone else noticed that many of the systems and standards we once depended on seem to be falling apart?

Does the USPS still deliver mail on time? Why does the power grid seem so fragile? When are these roads going to be fixed? Does anyone answer the phone anymore? Why has it become such a struggle to get paid for services rendered in a reasonable amount of time?

It feels like basic competence and accountability have become increasingly rare. There was a time when people took pride in their work, when institutions functioned reliably, and when customers could reasonably expect things to get done. Today, too often, it feels like we're surrounded by delays, excuses, and declining standards.

I'm not sure exactly when this started, but it seems like a slow-motion decline that has been unfolding for years. Meanwhile, many of our leaders appear disconnected from the problems ordinary people face, more focused on political games and personal gain than fixing what is broken. At the same time, there seems to be a growing sense of emptiness, disconnection, and lack of purpose affecting much of society.

Maybe I'm being overly pessimistic. But when so many of the things that once worked no longer seem dependable, it's hard not to wonder:

Are we witnessing the gradual end of the way of life we've known, or is this simply a rough chapter that can still be turned around?

Simple Sugar

Fashion has been a passion of mine for as long as I can remember, but it became especially important when I began my career in music more than 33 years ago. The way you present yourself is an extension of your art, and as the saying goes, “What looks good sounds good.” Whether it’s a tailored suit, casual wear, or something in between, clothing plays a major role in how I represent myself and my brand every day.

I’m far from an expert, and I certainly haven’t gotten it right all the time, but over the years I’ve learned what works for me. That, in my opinion, is the key—not chasing trends, but discovering a personal style that feels natural and authentic.

I’ve experimented with merchandise throughout my career, and today’s technology has made the process of designing, producing, and shipping products easier than ever. With that in mind, I’m excited to begin with a collection of T-shirts under the working title Simple Sugar. Whether that name sticks or not remains to be seen, but it’s a starting point.

My long-term goal is to collaborate with designers who share a vision of classic, timeless clothing—pieces that never feel dated and remain relevant year after year. I’m equally interested in partnering with brands that believe great style should be accessible. I’m not talking about fast fashion; I’m talking about thoughtfully made essentials that people can afford and enjoy for years.

At its best, fashion is fun. It’s about trying different fits, exploring new ideas, and finding what makes you feel confident. You never know who’s watching, and sometimes the way you present yourself speaks before you ever say a word.

I don’t know.

I've been thinking a lot lately about how this new digital age is affecting the way people think. In many ways, it feels as though we're being rewired. The computers we carry in our pockets are incredible tools, giving us instant access to more information than any generation before us. But they also give us access to an endless stream of misinformation, half-truths, and opinions disguised as facts.

If I hear one more person proudly declare, "I'm a researcher now," I may lose my mind. Suddenly everyone is a scientist, an engineer, a doctor, or an expert on whatever topic happens to be trending. Access to information is valuable, but access alone does not create expertise. Just because we can read an article or browse Wikipedia doesn't mean we're qualified to perform heart surgery.

The internet can be a slippery slope. One click leads to another, and before long people find themselves deep in rabbit holes that reinforce whatever they already want to believe. That can be incredibly dangerous to our collective well-being. The reality is that we're living in an era where information moves faster than verification. In many corners of the digital world, it feels like the Wild West. We all need to be more thoughtful and discerning about the media we consume and the voices we allow into our orbit.

If you're not a doctor, be careful about assuming you know more than one. Physicians dedicate years—often decades—of their lives to studying medicine, training, and gaining real-world experience. If you're not a scientist, don't convince yourself that an hour spent scrolling through social media is enough to dismiss decades of research and evidence. Science is not built on opinion or popularity. At its best, it is a process grounded in observation, testing, evidence, and the willingness to challenge its own conclusions when new facts emerge.

So yes, I've been wondering where all of this is headed. The truth is, no one really knows. But one thing I do know is the importance of recognizing the difference between what we know and what we don't know. In a world overflowing with certainty, there is something deeply intelligent—and increasingly rare—about being able to say, "I don't know."

Now you’re worried about AI?

I was born in 1971, and as a musician I've watched music delivery evolve through more formats than perhaps any generation before or after mine. We've lived through vinyl, 8-tracks, cassette tapes, CDs, digital downloads, and now streaming.

Then, in 1999, music effectively became free overnight.

Over the last 27 years, we've witnessed the complete devaluation of recorded music. Today, for $9.99 a month, a listener can access virtually every song ever recorded. Think about what that same collection would have cost in 1995. It's an incredible deal for consumers, but it's been devastating for the musicians who write, record, and produce the music.

And now people are worried about AI?

Really?

How can something already valued at nearly zero become worth less?

If we're being honest, most listeners don't spend much time thinking about who wrote a song, who played on it, or even who created it. They care whether it entertains them in the moment. We're already moving toward a world where songs are increasingly designed to capture attention for a few seconds before selling the next product, service, or pharmaceutical ad.

Musicians like me learned a long time ago that we have very little control over the value of our recorded work. The only real leverage we have is to sell directly to our audience and refuse to participate in systems that give our music away for fractions of a cent. That's easier said than done, of course. For most working musicians, the last place where our labor still has tangible value is on stage. We literally have to put our bodies in front of people to earn a living.

Meanwhile, Congress has been largely absent throughout this entire transformation. Many of our elected officials struggled to understand the internet revolution while it was happening, and now we're supposed to believe they'll effectively regulate AI? I wouldn't bet on it. There is simply too much money at stake.

So, from someone who has spent 35 years making a living in this business, my advice is simple: get ready. The world keeps moving forward, technology keeps advancing, and history suggests that none of us have much power to stop it.

These moments.

Over the years, there have been countless moments — often small, unexpected acts of kindness — that gave me the confidence to keep going. In my career, I think about moments like Maceo Parker giving me a wink and a smile as I walked out to open for him. Dr. John wishing me luck on my way to the stage. Jim Kerr of Simple Minds making a special trip to my dressing room just to encourage me before my set. Shelby Lynne taking the time to sit with one of my recordings and thoughtfully share her impressions in person.

Collaborating with masters of their craft — Chris Julian, Duane Lundy, Abraham Becker, and more recently Simon Mulligan and Gene Perla — has meant more to me than I can properly express. So have the smaller moments: Joe Jackson lending me his Telecaster during a session at The Dog House Studio, or sitting with Barriemore Barlow listening to stories from his years in the business. Even gestures as simple as Lincoln Center Jazz reposting one of my reels, or Ron Carter liking it.

These moments may seem small from the outside, but they are the “good stuff.” The things that keep you moving forward in a profession that can so easily breed self-doubt, anxiety, and uncertainty. What I’ve learned is that some of the most powerful reasons to keep going are rarely dramatic. They arrive quietly, hidden inside ordinary moments most people would overlook: a stranger holding the door when your hands are full, sunlight breaking through after days of rain, a text from someone saying, “I thought of you today.” These small experiences remind us that life is constantly offering proof of connection, even when things feel uncertain.

I try my best to pay that feeling forward — through kindness, encouragement, compliments, smiles, and a genuine interest in other people’s dreams. I believe deeply that this kind of love can change not just someone’s day, but sometimes the direction of their life. It reminds people they matter. That they are seen. That someone cares. So when you have the chance, pass it along. It comes back in ways you could never predict.

Buy Independent Music

Yes, my music is available on all major streaming platforms, and those services are wonderful for discovery and listening. But as an independent, jazz-leaning recording artist, the most meaningful way to support my work is by purchasing vinyl releases or digital downloads directly from my official website.

Streaming has its place, but direct support is what truly sustains independent artists and allows us to continue creating new work. I encourage you to spend some time with the music and, if it resonates with you, consider purchasing it directly. There’s a growing body of evidence showing how little artists ultimately receive from streaming alone.

As Tracy Chapman recently said: “I only buy music in physical form. Artists get paid when you actually buy the vinyl. That’s important to me. So to some extent, it limits what I listen to, because it’s a physical commitment of going out into the world and finding things.”

There’s something deeper and more personal about engaging with music in a tangible form — knowing that your support goes directly to the artist, rather than being filtered through massive corporations. Physical media and direct purchases create a more meaningful connection between listener and artist, and they help keep independent music alive.