Journal Entry 007: Fast Car

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11-6-2023

12:24PM

New York City, NY

It’s a special thing when it feels like your work is a part of something much bigger than yourself. Usually, my work process is very internal and private - sitting alone with ideas until, eventually, the time comes to share them with collaborators and the rest of the world. It’s a pretty selfish pursuit: telling my own stories with the secondary hope that maybe anyone who gives it their time can relate or project their own meaning onto it. Impact beyond my own personal fulfillment is something that’s hard to fathom.

With Kwudi’s “Fast Car” Music Video, I couldn’t feel any more opposite and honored to play a part of bringing a friend’s story and art to the visual realm. Every part of the process from pre-production, production, post-production, and release has been so rewarding on a soul/core level. A village of passionate and loyal friends working towards sharing something meaningful.

JT Clemente, Ace Scott, Kwudi, and Eric Nguyen on the “Fast Car” Music Video Set - by Jasmyn Bagonghasa

Kwudi and I first met backstage at The Hollywood Bowl and Red Rocks way back in October of 2019 when Rhetorik snuck me onto Logic’s tour bus (What a crazy sentence). For a wide-eyed and recently-dropped-out JT, these were some of the first REAL moments of exposure to a life in the entertainment industry that would come to consume me through the following years. An understandably intimidating atmosphere at my dream venues and in my first tour bus bunk, I was ushered and accepted into the world by the most welcoming squad of artists and friends whom I’d already admired deeply - Kwudi being one of those people.

We remained friends mostly via the internet through the next few years, with a few brief hellos at rehearsals and events scattered here and there. Nothing but extreme positivity and contagious energy every time.

Logic, Kajo, Kwudi, rhetorik, and Tomo Miličević onstage at red rocks on the “confessions of a dangerous Mind Tour” - 2019, by JT Clemente

Fast forward to earlier this year when Ace, Kwudi’s manager (and another close friend of mine whom I also met in my early days as a director in 2018), gave me a call to field the idea for the “Fast Car” Music Video.

At that point, I was still at a place where I was rejecting every music/film project that came my way after a rough experience in the field (which is a story for a different time), but this one was different. Immediately, yes.

Ace and Kwudi already had an entire concept and treatment put together, which was a new experience for me as a director. A simple, yet poignant, piece: Black and white. Clean imagery. A man and a wrecked car. The world’s first look into Kwudi’s life and art since his motorcycle accident a year prior.

It was important that the visuals not be too much as to distract from the music, and equally important that the imagery be profound and intentional with every frame. I storyboarded this one down to the millisecond before we even approached the shoot. The final edit is almost identical to what was initially planned.

Finding the perfect pacing and framing to reveal more information about the story and reflect the lyrics at the right times was paramount. I’m particularly proud of this brief sequence where it almost feels like a shot-reverse conversation between Kwudi and the wrecked car:

Through the few months of its creation, every step of this project was an absolute team effort and labor of love. Pushing a wrecked car into place was probably the best and most tiring team-building exercise we could’ve asked for before our shoot day even started. It ended up setting our production over an hour behind schedule.

Our initial pre-production meetings with Kwudi and Ace were spent establishing the visual tone of the project: A raw, yet triumphant, outlook on the reality of the situation while avoiding a Disney-esque “Everything’s gonna be just fine!” perspective.

Eric Nguyen our DP, and Chancee Phensuk our Gaffer, worked closely to help shape the scenes and lighting to capture that feeling. Especially in the opening moments inside the car, I’m still way too impressed with how they bent the light and finessed our angles to accentuate Kwudi’s performance. Kwudi absolutely nailed every take, I don’t think I even had to give him a single note throughout the day.

Also - a huge shoutout to Ace, who’d never produced a music video before but could’ve fooled me with the amount of planning and preparation he did. He made execution of it all on production day such a breeze.

I couldn’t thank Kwudi and Ace enough for trusting me to be a part of something so important and personal. It’s an honor to call you friends and collaborators. Seeing the support and love on Kwudi’s side upon this song’s release has been the most reassuring and inspiring thing. People recognize a good person making something from the heart, and that couldn’t be a more magnetic and kinetic energy to want to be around. I hope to embody even a fraction of the integrity and passion that you breathe into everything you do.

A quick thanks to everyone involved:

The OG: Tracy Chapman

Mixing: Bobby Campbell

Mastering: Simon Lancelot

Guitar: Corey Sanchez


Directed and edited by JT Clemente

Creative Direction, Producer: Ace Scott

Addtl Photography & More: Chris Sgroi

Director of Photography, Color: Eric Nguyen

Gaffer: Chancee Phensuk

HMUA: Ashley Francisco

Wardrobe: Akintunde Ahmad

Behind the Scenes Photography: Jasmyn Bagonghasa

And finally, please show Kwudi and Fast Car some love! Give the video a watch, but there’s also an entire EXTENDED version of the track that goes absolutely insane (both linked right here).

Some quick extras:

  • I had the pleasure of being at Creator Camp while the video premiered, and shared the occasion with everyone there. Such a special moment. (Damn, I’ll have to share some stories about my time here soon too).

  • Some love for the Fast Car Music Video from Rainn Wilson and Logic, along with shoutouts on LIVE RADIO

Catch you soon,

JT

Journal Entry 006: After You Go

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7-28-2023

12:15 AM

Los Angeles, CA

Making the things I like with the people I love. My personal mantra and true north recently.

Towards the start of this year, I'd essentially taken an indefinite hiatus from filmmaking - super low, uninspired, insecure. The works. I was legitimately searching for off-grid cabins in the Italian Alps that I could buy and disappear to in exchange for selling my filmmaking gear.

During that time, in an active effort of recovery; I spent a lot of time with friends, music, therapy, and the outdoors. No cameras. No social media. Doing everything solely for me.

The idea of stepping back into the film/music world made me too angry/sad/anxious, so I distanced myself from all of it as much as I could. I had some tour savings stashed away, so I politely passed on every project that came my way... That was until a group thread with two of my best friends presented itself:

For some context, I moved back to LA just over one year ago. There was this intense pull to pursue community and work on things for me. Two of the first true friends I made in the city upon touching back down were Caro Knapp and Ellie Williams. They're some of my favorite people in the world and my biggest inspirations in the midst of pursuing all of this big dream nonsense.

So long story short - of course I'm gonna work with them.

Ellie sent us the song and I put together a video treatment almost immediately. In the previous four months, I could hardly whip out my phone camera without absolutely hating the action of taking a picture; so this sudden inspiration and motivation to create was very welcome. Her music never fails to play out as movies in my head whenever I listen.

A few pages from the initial "After You Go" video treatment.

A few pages from the initial "After You Go" video treatment.

Caro and I had recently spent an evening driving through Zion National Park screaming lyrics to the soundtrack of one of our favorite childhood movies - Bridge to Terabithia. With that fresh in my mind, the imagery and overall aesthetic of that movie felt like the perfect starting point for us to pursue our second project as co-directors together.

Some frames from "After You Go" - The Music Video

Some frames from "After You Go" - The Music Video

Upon building out the actual look for the video, Eric Nguyen (our DP and colorist) and Chancee Phensuk (our Gaffer) absolutely executed. I really wanted the apartment scenes to feel like the memories in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and they did everything in their power to bring that to life through lighting, lenses, etc. Contrasty and cool tones in the “present day” scenes, vivid and warm feel for the “flashback” scenes. Their ability to adapt to the free-flowing nature of our tiny shoot and deliver on such an exceptional level is something that refines a film set from stressful to exciting.

A big moment of clarity came on a recent camping trip in Big Sur. We were walking along the coast when I took off my polarized/brown-tinted sunglasses and gave them to Eric. “These are the colors I want in Ellie’s video.”

(I’ve kept the same pair of shades for over five years because they give me the perfect tones to look at nature with)

Big Sur inspiration photos by Eric Nguyen (featuring myself, Caro Knapp, Chancee Phensuk, and Giovana Trujilo)

Big Sur inspiration photos by Eric Nguyen (featuring myself, Caro Knapp, Chancee Phensuk, and Giovana Trujilo)

Energy on-set reminded me why I love filmmaking so damn much. Our producers, Sahil Rustami and Liya Yang, made sure everything was in-line, on-pace, and all smiles throughout the entire day. (Oh yeah, we only had one day to shoot this entire thing.) Their planning and execution from pre-production through production can’t be appreciated enough.

I’ve talked about this before, but I’m pretty sacred about who I share my space with as a director on passion projects like this. Usually, adding new chefs in the kitchen is a recipe for frustration and disagreement. Not worth it. One of my other favorite directors, Samuel McIntosh, is someone whom I trust to share that space with. Outside of him, the only other person I’d wholeheartedly jump into a project alongside is Caro Knapp. Her input is invaluable and our workflow on set feels nothing but natural. She’ll often provide direction or notes for our production that I’m thinking about giving, before I even say them aloud… And even more, ideas I flat out haven’t even thought of. It’s an unspoken, shared, reassuring focus towards a goal that I’m grateful to have in a collaborator and friend. We make some dope shit.

Behind-the-scenes photography of production day by Jasmyn Bagonghasa

Behind-the-scenes photography of production day by Jasmyn Bagonghasa

It’s a weird thing, returning to a world that only a few months prior I'd grown to resent. The entertainment industry will chew you up and spit you out, entice you to compromise your values, and force you to sacrifice more of your life than you’d ever like to admit; but somewhere along the line, the right people and circumstances will find their way to you as a reminder of why you do it.

Thank you to Ellie Williams for being one of the most kind and thoughtful friends I’ve got. Your music treads that perfect line of intimate vulnerability and intense relatability that had me all-in from the moment I heard you at that small showcase a few years back. Trusting us to be a part of your art means so much, and giving us all the space to make things with each other is an opportunity that I never take for granted. I never feel more at home than when I’m with great people making great things.

To the amazing people and artists that made this video possible:

Directed and Edited by JT Clemente & Caro Knapp
Producers: Sahil Rustami, Liya Yang
Director of Photography & Colorist: Eric Nguyen
1st AC: Makaeo Cons-Scala
Gaffer: Chancee Phensuk
Production Design: Sahil Rustami
BTS Photography/Grip: Jasmyn Bagonghasa Production Assistant: Tristan Obedos
Cast: Ellie Williams, Abbey Martichenko, Ava Bunn, Evan Sheldon

To be transparent - I’m so over talking about myself and explaining the art and what it may mean and trying to convince others that it may be good - hell, I don’t even know if it’s good. (Also just found out calling my work "art" is a little pretentious? Damn. Don’t care, still doing it.) Big burnout earlier this year led me to really value privacy and keeping moments for myself. Not commodifying memories for the sake of impressing strangers online or earning internet points. I really do enjoy sharing the creative process like this, still. Behind-the-scenes insight is what got me into filmmaking in the first place. I still enjoy a veil of ambiguity around it all, though.

Damn, I actually sound pretentious now. I’ll wrap it up.

On a very serious note: Thank you for making the things I work on a part of your life; even if only for a few minutes. Thank you for supporting me, my friends, and the things we create. I regularly feel like stepping away and buying that cabin in the woods, but the allure of getting to do THIS always proves to be just a bit more powerful. More on the way.

JT

As always, here’s the accompanying playlist. These are all of the songs that helped me process and get out of my big slump through the first half of this year. Probably my favorite one yet. I’ve still got it on repeat.

WAIT. Here’s the actual video that this Journal Entry is about (if you haven’t already watched it.)

Journal Entry 005: Performer/Audience

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April 23rd, 2023

11:29 PM

Los Angeles, CA

Vulnerability is something I've struggled with a lot recently.

Opening up to others, sharing feelings, or divulging intimate details about my fears and excitements - That's easy.

That's what vulnerability is, though… right?

Right.

It's more the performance of vulnerability and connection that leaves me scratching my head and overthinking.

How does an audience: a dinner table surrounded by my closest friends, a private journal entry for my eyes only, a potential partner, an annoying coworker, a faceless conglomerate of viewers online... shift the way in which my vulnerability manifests itself?

Right now, as my fingers tap away on my keyboard and I craft whatever this piece is; I'm changing and deleting and revising the way I articulate my thoughts because I know, in the back of my mind, that you're reading this. I want to sound composed, in tune with myself, hopefully not too pretentious, relatable... Anything that makes you a bit more inclined to like the idea of me and stay connected with my words. My private journal entries, though? Those are scattered, hardly coherent, and A LOT more revealing.

stepped back from the camera and spent a lot of time writing since tour. west hollywood, March 2023

But what level of self-importance do I possess to even think that what I deliver is worthy of your consideration and time in the first place? To write something with the expectation that it will be read by you is a bit narcissistic, no?

If the creation of art were truly a selfless act, then why is the release and consumption of it so necessary to the process? Is my art even authentic if the knowledge of its eventual consumption by others influences the very act of creating it?

I was led to believe that the "self-indulgence" inherent in the creation of art is wrong. It's selfish and cocky. Creations and parts of myself that I held so close and personal were renounced by those around me. A sense of rejection that I wrongly took very personally.

"I guess it's the JT show now..."

"You sure love the spotlight for yourself, huh?"

"I don't like any of the things you're making."

”It’s not that deep. You’re being annoying.”

It made me shut down. It messed up my relationship with art, vulnerability, and connecting with others quite severely for some time. In an Inception-like fashion, I was eventually convinced that anything in service of myself or my personal tastes, even outside of creation, was outright wrong.

Creating with a sense of entitlement and lack of consideration, however, is what eventually brought me back. There is no wrong way to make art.

The only prerequisite is I MUST make things for myself - regardless of the audience that may be receiving it.

Me, backstage on the feral joy tour with maggie rogers. feb 2023. photo by josiah van dien.

See, I still write this with the knowledge that it will be released to the public, and that you'll eventually read it. Where I now find comfort, though, is in my disconnection from the reception. All I can hope to do is create something true enough to my core that maybe the right audience will find and appreciate it for what it is.

I liken it to those Ichiran Ramen restaurants in Japan where your order is delivered to your small individual cubicle through a window on the counter. The chef has performed their job and releases the product to the customer, all without seeing one another or exchanging a single word. The performer/audience relationship is at its purest - uncorrupted by the expectations of pleasing one another. Each can exercise their duties of creation and consumption without fear of upholding the assumed needs of the other.

Connection and vulnerability are integral to creation, and it feels good to have a bit more clarity on what that means to me.

On that note, I’ve stepped away from social media a considerable amount these past six months. The constant comparisons and inclination to present myself and my “brand” really started to take a toll. These journal entries continue to be my favorite way to stay tapped in and in tune with the incredible community we’ve garnered. Also, I have a newfound relentless focus on creating and building out what is shaping up to be the biggest project of my life. Something for me.

Thank you for believing in me, my friends, and the things we make. I’m so very grateful for all of it. I’ll see you when it’s time to bring this next project to life.

Until then, here’s a playlist of the music that helped me stay grounded in the highs and lows of these past six months.

Bonus: I asked Chat GPT AI to read this journal entry. It suggested a better conclusion but I'm happy with what I wrote, so I asked what it would write:

"In the end, vulnerability, connection, and creation are all intertwined. As much as we may try to disconnect them, they remain inextricably linked. What matters most is staying true to ourselves and creating for ourselves, without worrying too much about the reception or approval of others. It's important to find a balance between being vulnerable and authentic with others, while also maintaining a healthy sense of self and autonomy. By creating for ourselves and finding ways to disconnect from the pressures of external validation, we can cultivate a deeper sense of connection with ourselves and with others. Thank you for joining me on this journey of self-discovery and creativity."


Journal Entry 004: Violet Skies

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February 1st, 2022

6:30 AM

Los Angeles, CA

Collaboration and community are some of the biggest things I’ve come to embrace and cherish in life these past few months. There’s something special about recognizing and connecting with the value that surrounds you; and fostering that value has proven to be the most fulfilling process - both personally and professionally. It’s something I can hardly live without now that I’ve found it.

Caro, JT, and Chancee locking in lighting and framing

A few months back, I got a call from John Lindahl. He’d recently written a song with Colette Lush, and they wanted me to help bring it to life visually if I connected with it.

Colette’s manager sent me a short blurb about the track and its context. It was no more than a few sentences long, but the brief description alone made me emotional enough to hop onboard before even hearing the song. Instant connection.

After a few introductory calls to establish the vision of the project, I knew immediately that this was something I needed to collaborate on with one of my favorite directors in the game.

Caro Knapp and JT Clemente - Director dream team. (I’m Convinced that this picture will go down in the history books for both of our careers)

Now, I tend to be very precious with most parts of my creative process; especially with low/no-budget videos like this one.

Writing, Shooting, Editing, Everything. Do it yourself ‘cause you do it well… That is until you have other immensely talented people on your side.

Caro Knapp is the only director I know that connects with music on a level as profoundly, if not more, than myself. Outside of being one of my closest friends and favorite people, she’s got an absolutely unique and unwavering vision that translates into every aspect of her craft. Taking into consideration the direction Colette wanted for the video, Caro’s aesthetics and taste blended with my own seemed like the perfect combo to finally take on our first project together. She graciously agreed to hop onboard to co-direct and produce the video alongside me for the love.

(We, along with most of our small crew, contributed to this production with no pay in the interest of allocating the tight budget to gear, materials, and location. I’m typically always of the principle that all efforts on my productions should be compensated for; but in full transparency, as it was, Caro and I went out of our own pockets beyond the artist’s budget to help bring this project to life.)

Violet Skies, to me, is the space between reminiscing on what once was and longing for what could’ve been. A melancholic, yet vaguely hopeful, perspective of the present.

Colette had the foundational ideas of a cardboard city, harnessing the imagery of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, along with the general mood and art direction - but gave us free rein to take the narrative and production as we saw fit. Caro and I both made separate beat-sheets and mood boards for our initial impressions of the track and how we wanted the narrative to unfold. Upon comparing the two - they were scarily similar. I knew it was gonna be great from there… Time to hit the ground running.

Caro took on a huge bulk of the production design and pre-production logistics - without which this shoot would’ve been an absolute shitshow. That’s not to mention the late nights and hours we spent in her living room constructing an entire cardboard city (Which, in my humble opinion, turned out INCREDIBLE). The design of this set would’ve been a shell of what it turned out to be if it weren’t for Caro’s resourceful yet boundless knack for just making great things.

In fact, to describe all of the hard work that our entire team put in to make this video would render this Journal Entry too long to consume. Huge shoutout to the Green Team.

JT Clemente - Co-Director, Producer, Director of Photography, Editor

Caro Knapp - Co-Director, Producer, Production Design, Colorist

Chancee Phensuk - Gaffer

Taytum Blake - Production Assistant

Hana Adams - Production Assistant, Behind-the-Scenes Photography

Everyone (The Green Team) - Cardboard Building Construction, Window Pane Designers, and Carriers of all gear/props up to our second-story set. (I’m so damn appreciative of you all and hope to have the privilege of working alongside each-other again.)

(Also shoutout to my friend Tyler Burgeson for supplying us with a LOAD of cardboard boxes on a moment’s notice.)


Production went as smoothly as it possibly could’ve thanks to solid planning and an amazing squad. We’d mapped out every beat of the video so well beforehand that it all just fell into place when it was time to edit. All hands on deck, great energy, hard work. Working with such a talented and optimistic team reminded me why I do this - collaborating with amazing people who share the goal of making meaningful art.

Living in the quiet spaces of this song was a much-needed change of pace. I’ve grown to resent recent trends that reward egregious amounts of speed and noise, and Colette’s approach to the sonics of Violet Skies invited a retreat into the quiet spaces that are ever-absent in the battlegrounds of art and media nowadays. This all felt much more intentional and driven. A step back that provokes reflection and connection. I hope it gives you that same experience.

You’ve read this far… consider giving the video a watch HERE.

Okay damn, you didn’t click the first link or the big button… Here’s a huge direct window to watch the video right here.

As I finish typing this up, boarding starts on my flight from LAX to somewhere on the East Coast… More on that very soon. All I can say is I’m feeling the most excited and accepted I ever have as an artist and as person.

Community. Connection. Feeling. Untethered expression.


I’m so grateful for the reception of these entries over the past year. It’s also so exciting that many of you have enjoyed the accompanying playlists as well! Here’s the newest one: some sounds that tell the story of what manifesting my goals has felt like.

(ALSO - did you see the signup at the top of this page? You can add your email and I’ll hit you with a special note whenever I drop a new piece. No spam, I promise. Thanks for rocking with me.)

Journal Entry 003: Vinyl Verse Tour

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September 17th, 2022

11:53 PM

Los Angeles, CA

It’s been two weeks since The Vinyl Verse Tour with Logic and Wiz Khalifa concluded and I still have yet to find a way to process the absolute storm that traveling, working, and growing across the country for 6 weeks was.

In a way, touring is somewhat of a time capsule in which you disappear and immerse yourself in a world of adrenaline, fatigue, inspiration, and camaraderie alongside some of the greatest seasoned minds in the field. It’s not real life. I tell most people it’s a lot like summer camp at an absurd scale. At the start, backstage and catering tables tend to convene in their own respective artists and teams. By the end, it’s all a massive conglomerate of people who have experienced the trials of travel together - we’re one in the same. After six weeks of entertaining hundreds of thousands of people across the country together, you all part ways and emerge back into the real world where all of your responsibilities pick up without any regard to where you’ve just come from.

As fun as it was, it was equally grueling and exhausting. Five shows in a row, one day off. Then another four shows. Then one day off. Rinse and repeat. Sleeping on my tour bus bunk overnight and waking up in the next city; then finding solace in the limbo of hotel rooms on our off days.

Misc. moments from showtime and backstage. Shooting, editing, sleeping, drinking, working out. Photos by Clare Thurkett, Justin Fleischer, Anthony Campusano, and Johnny Martinez.

From a creative and work perspective, the necessary constant output of tour is exactly the opposite of my typical artistic process - which proved difficult during the first few weeks. I’d wake up, deliver the previous day’s work, shoot and edit all day until showtime, shoot the show, then edit on the bus for a few hours until I passed out.

I generally like to capture things and retreat. I like to sit with a moment and allow myself to understand it.

On the road; it’s capture, compile, release.

Go. Go. Go.

Eventually, I adjusted and found a good balance and way to implement this insane productivity to my creative process. We hit an incredible stride. Across TikTok and Instagram, our tour videos have amassed just short of 50 million views at the time of writing this.

The biggest takeaway from the journey had to be experiencing the real-world implications of what our art really does once it’s released. My music videos played on the screens in front of 10,000+ people every night in packed amphitheaters and beautiful music halls. Fans sang, cried, laughed, and danced to Logic’s music in the live realm. People of every walk of life congregated with the mutual interest of sharing a moment with their favorite artists in a physical space.

It’s easy to become desensitized to numbers and words of affirmation coming at you on a screen. We forget about the humans behind that. It wasn’t until the first show when I had dozens of people calling my name as I walked through the crowd with my camera that I realized the scope of what I do. My initial thoughts were, “I don’t recognize this person… do I know them? How do they know my name?”, until I realized these were complete strangers who enjoyed my work.

A kid, probably around ten years old, ran up to me with the biggest smile on his face. “JT!!! I loved the documentary you made with Logic!” I shake his hand, introduce myself and ask what his name is. The most humbling moment of my life. Giovanni, you’re the reason I’m so grateful to make things and share them with the world.

There was too much to process, and not a lot of time to think and breathe - which isn’t exactly the best combo for an ambivert like myself. It very frequently led to waves of intense highs and, subsequently, feelings of burnout and failure. It’s creative, professional, and social stimulation like I’ve never experienced. In turn, the most intense imposter syndrome one could fathom.

There are moments when surrounded by these absolute monoliths of talent and cultural prominence, with thousands of eyes on what you do, that the realization kicks in that this isn’t just for fun. There’s a lot of impact to be made and it should be treated seriously and delicately.

Bob gave me some simple but absolutely crucial advice one night after I expressed concern about my performance and general health trying to keep up:

“Don’t overthink it. Don’t be hard on yourself.”

We really are all here for a reason - we work hard, have talent, and are good people. At a certain point: you have to trust your intuition, trust your team, and trust the process. It all felt just a bit more natural from that point on.

I’ve got a gold mine of life stories to tell from this short period. I grew a lot and connected on an even deeper level with what were already close friends. Late nights on our tour bus were spent playing Mario Kart, battling chess, exploring every genre of music, and sharing sleep-deprived bouts of laughter. My favorite 4AM revelations came from Castro who enlightened us with gems such as “A tour bus is like a sideways elevator.” and “Skittles are like temporary gum.”

From smoking joints with Wiz, riding jet skis with DJ Drama, shooting a music video onstage with Logic (tapping into our telekinetic director/performer connection), golf with Rhetorik and 6ix, late-night life talks with Greg and Mike, and classic Waffle House runs… I couldn’t have asked for a more rewarding collection of moments to share with my friends and collaborators.

As is tradition with these entries, here’s the music that stayed by my side during this period. Quite honestly, Maggie Rogers’ new record “Surrender” was on REPEAT while on the road - the rest of this playlist are the sounds that encapsulate everything else outside of that.

Thank you, Bob. #RattPack

Journal Entry 002: Vinyl Days

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July 17th, 2022

4:39 PM

Los Angeles, CA

It’s one of the greatest honors of my career thus far to finally present, Vinyl Days: The Documentary. Directed, shot, and edited by yours truly, for Logic.

Finally, I write to you from tour rehearsals in Los Angeles, preparing for a few weeks on the road, and I just noticed the documentary just hit 100,000 views. Nice.

Me capturing late-night vocal tracking for the documentary. Photo by Logic.

The past 6 months were spent quietly working on this in the background… Balancing my time between the snowy Oregon woods, the beaches of California at sunset, late nights in living rooms with friends, and early mornings at my desk.

Especially in social media’s scope of art nowadays, it all feels like a 24/7 news cycle of artistic output: constant and immediate turnaround of whatever is trending topically and aesthetically, in hopes that it catches the wave of a general audience’s fleeting interest.

There’s something to be said about retreating to the roots of one’s creative process and completely disregarding the idea of reception - and that’s the spirit of Vinyl Days to me. I tried translating that same energy in this documentary. Creation solely for oneself and the people around it, using your inspirations as fuel: An approach that I can only hope leans towards something more timeless and impactful regardless of when it’s seen or how many eyes come across it.

We shot through an entire briefcase full of disposable cameras (as if that’s any valuable metric to measure the amount of film we used) and a majority of them were used as surprise flash bombs to capture unsuspecting/unflattering faces by Logic. Here are a few of me.

I don’t think I fully realized what this documentary means to me until I finally sat down to press “upload”. I felt the past ten years of preparation, sacrifice, and dedication to this pursuit finally being realized; but only in the very slightest sense.

My biggest project yet, and for one of my favorite artists ever… That’s it?

Am I already onto the next thing?

There was always this lofting expectation in the back of my head for moments like this to be monumental and triumphant; when in reality it’s no different than when I first started creating videos in my childhood bedroom. It’s an almost shattering realization to arrive at that nobody will ever care about your work even a fraction of the amount that you do - no matter the level at which you create or scale at which it’s consumed - and that’s okay. It’s a testament to just how high and unattainable your passion is in comparison to anybody else. We build up these grand ideas of reception and accolades because we hold our work in such high regard - but to put that weight on external factors outside of your control is the foundation for disappointment. It always comes back to the roots: do it for you.

In that way, maybe this documentary is vicariously one of my most personal projects yet.

THANK YOU…

Thank you to the squad: 6ix, Kyle, and BC, for welcoming my presence within your creative space during the synthesis of this project. It’s easy to simply tolerate a director with a camera while you’re trying to make music, but it’s harder to make that person feel essential to the process. I’m inspired incessantly by your work ethic and dedication to creation. To y’all and the rest of the squad who came through for intermittent periods throughout Vinyl Days: I hold our daily congregations downtown for mimosas and cold hot wings very dearly. Thanks for making isolation in the middle of the woods a bit more like home.

Thank you to Egon for your stories, insight, and experience. I’ll always remember the night we sat downstairs and had an hour-long conversation that somehow navigated through the topics of yeast in winemaking, supply-chain issues, and synesthesia… all while the team was sampling upstairs. Your inclination to share and listen and be present is one that I revere and hope to embody as I continue to grow within this world.

To Kyle Wesley: Thank you for your incredible work coloring this documentary. I wanted this thing to be big-screen ready, and you delivered with such a disciplined and thoughtful approach that had me giddy with every update you sent. You helped bring my visuals to a level I used to dream of achieving.

To Kenny Amacher: Thank you endlessly for lending your ear and skillset to refine the sound mix of this entire project. There’s now an elite tier of polish and execution within the sonics that elevate the documentary to a level where I truly feel like a professional for the first time in my career. Thank you for your collaboration and friendship.

Finally - Bob. I really can’t say enough here. Please consider this whole documentary my way of thanking you for everything. Beyond just the opportunity, trust, and free rein to make this documentary however I felt; thank you for treating me as an equal. To sit in a room with you and the rest of the team and feel like my contributions are worthy and valued takes me back to my childhood when I could only imagine and manifest creating around such a special group of people. Thank you for trusting me within your life not only as a professional, but as a friend. Watch out for that licticide.

This documentary is my love letter to the RattPack and everything that Logic as an artist represents. I hope my vision and contributions to this era of Logic may live on and fuel generations of future artists and fans just as previous ones have fueled me. Thank you for giving it your time.

Some things and moments that I found myself around during Vinyl Days: My edit station, gear, my 23rd birthday in a record store, bike rides through the forest, sunsets reading “Crying in H Mart" by the Manhattan Beach Pier, edit breaks rewatching “Gravity Falls” and “Fleabag”, and various late-night dinners in cities with friends.

Onto a new era,

- JT

As always, here is a playlist of some of the music that accompanied me through this entire period. It’s a nice selection of sounds that remind me of friends, moments, and places that inspired me during Vinyl Days. The feeling of unlimited potential and taking life into your own hands.

If you haven’t watched the Documentary yet… WATCH IT HERE.

Also, here’s my REDDIT "AMA" from earlier this week - spent 4 hours answering a ton of questions about the process of creating this documentary!

Journal Entry 001: Solar Power

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May 8th, 2022

10:30AM

Santa Barbara, CA

Nowadays it seems like we are so dependent on an artist to guide us alongside how their work should be consumed and felt. It seems rare to just present the work and let audiences process it on their own, without the need for promotion and reminders about its presence and meaning.

The truest way to consume art, to me, is to let it find you. The meaning, circumstance, and emotion behind it can’t be fabricated from an audience’s perspective (at least at any meaningful level).

I’ve only come to realize it in this past weekend through Lorde’s approach in her “Solar Power” album era. One of her most critiqued and different projects to date, she chose to remain silent on social media for its release, rollout, and promotion through the past year. She hardly even promoted the tour, which i attended the final two shows to this weekend. No obligation to explain what’s going on surrounding the album whatsoever. The purest form of letting the work speak for itself.

I’m realizing the art finds its way to its most true audience in this case: People who connect to the artist and their work on a profound and dedicated level. It’s no different than any other relationship, really. Both sides must find their way to each other and nurture the connection naturally and actively.

It’s funny how I’d almost forgotten how much of an impact Lorde and her art have had on me throughout the years as a result of her disconnection from social media. It was only after opening myself up and going out of my way to connect with her and the work through her last concerts this weekend that I gained a new perspective. Listening to her talk about the project, her thoughts and feelings between performing the songs, finally allowed me to appreciate and understand Solar Power and her approach to solitude in its entirety.

She seems to prioritize and value the idea of an intimate connection with the people who truly care, as proven through her email letters to the fanbase every few months, and smaller venue choices for this tour. From the front of the crowd to the back, it was deafening roars from the most dedicated supporters in every city. True connection. 

Long story short - that’s the energy that I want to cultivate around my work and whoever it finds. I don’t want to resort to influencer tactics in order to convince people to like the idea of who I am and what I create. That’s the idea of whatever these public journal entries will be: for the few strangers who choose to go out of their way and connect with me and my work - a small glimpse into the circumstance and moment I find myself in during this process. I won’t release these on any sort of schedule, but they’ll be accompanied by some photos and the music I’ve been listening to that capture the period of time that inspired the words.

New work very soon. Big changes. I’m excited about the people in my life and where I’ll find myself in the coming months. Appreciate y’all.

- JT

Here’s a playlist of some of the sounds that’ve accompanied me through the changes these past few months.