The Plot
A Confession, of Sorts
Let's be clear about something from the start: The Plot is not a band.
It's just me—one writer with a head full of melodies and absolutely no ability to play an instrument. These songs exist because I'm stubborn enough to believe that if a tune lives in your mind long enough, it deserves to exist in the world, even if you can't coax it out of a guitar yourself.
My process is equal parts inspiration and technological wizardry. I write the songs—lyrics, structure, the bones of the thing. Then I hum and sing melody variations into AI tools like Suno, probably sounding like a man arguing with himself in an empty wheat field. From there, it's a process of tweaking, pulling stems, revising, and generally wrestling the sound into something approaching my original vision.
Am I the world's greatest vocalist? I am not. Can I play piano, guitar, or even a reasonably tuned kazoo? I cannot. But I can hear these songs in my head, fully formed and demanding to be born. So I've found my own way to deliver them, imperfect as they may be.
Think of these tracks as muse-children—strange little creations that wandered out of my imagination and into existence through whatever means necessary. They're demos, experiments, musical sketches from a writer who believes stories sometimes need to be sung.
If they resonate with you, wonderful. If not, that's fair. To each their own. Either way, they're out here now, standing in the dust, staring at the horizon like that woman on the cover.