“(DIS)AGREEABLE”

FEBRUARY 2026

Lovelies,

Art requires a level of conviction I find unsettling.

In a Muzi meeting everyone shares an opposite opinion — and I have to somehow trust myself that I have a clear vision. On a call with a co-writer I'm told the song was finished two edits ago — and I have to somehow trust myself that until my nervous system settles, something isn't right. 

I've been thinking about this ever since I had the gorgeous opportunity to interview Muzi Featured Artist, author and personality psychologist William Todd Shultz. Todd's book, The Mind of the Artist, is a how-could-you-know-that accurate exploration of "artist personality." I'd remembered the main point: artists are preturnaturally high in "openness." But I'd forgotten a searing sub-point: artists tend to score low in agreeableness.

As Todd put it to me, "To be creative you need to be a bit — or more than a bit — not nice." 

Because art is inherently subversive. Because art reveals more than is willingly shown.

Because art requires conviction, even, often, in the face of dissension.

So of course I'm stressed. I'm agreeable! Not HOPELESSLY agreeable. I can stutter an occasional "no." But agreeable ENOUGH that it renders my artist life a bumper car match between wanting to please and wanting to do right by the work.

These days I 95% choose doing right by the work. And I'd say I suffer 20% less for it. Clear progress as an artist if not a liked human.

At this point I'm not sure I have less agreeable in me. I think we've arrived. But I am finding my new awareness helpful. I'm telling myself, conviction is some of the most uncomfortable and important work I do.

Seditiously if reluctantly yours,

Rachel

Speaking of my interview with William Todd Shultz, please enjoy it here! And while you're at it, subscribe to the new Muzi YouTube channel, where I'm posting creativity interviews and insights on the regular. 

“FOLLOWING”

JANUARY 2026

Lovelies,

I asked very little of myself the last weeks of 2025.

I wanted to give my mind the space to process the year. To inventory my current values and goals. To vision out my important moves for 2026.

Ok, so yeah, now that I mention it, I asked a whole lot of myself the last weeks of 2025.

What I discovered was this. 2025 was an immersion in details: Six part vocal arrangements for three minute pop songs. The most evocative questions for an artist interview. The most rhythmic word order for a sentence in an article.

App design and glitches and keywords and video edits. 

2025 had me using my mind like a tool, hammering wherever I needed results.

To ease up on this felt divine. I let my mind wander down back alleys and overgrown paths and I followed behind, skeptically, bemusedly, taking notes.

A lot of the notes are bizarre.

But who am I to judge? In all my 2025 close-focused effort I made mistakes. Granted, many were just my year's quota of mistakes. But others were clearly born of ALL THE EFFORT.

So now here we are, January 14th. As you might have guessed, I have not achieved my intended clarity. If anything I've scared up more fuzzy questions.

But I'm heartened. In my stepping back I stumbled on something important. I remember that this is actually how my mind works best. When I effort half-way. When I let her lead our impossible tango.

And the best part? I'm now excited to think my way through 2026.

Off we go.

Love,

Rachel

2026 has arrived with a personality and it is INSPIRED. I woke up on January 5th inexplicably obsessed with a song I had started then forgotten three years ago... and spent the next two days finishing it. I am saying yes to production gigs and already starting their song and sound-scaping. And I had the great pleasure of accompanying Mira Multari's live versions of her songs, Freeze and Everything Has Changed at 25th Street Studios this week. The studio EP drops — along with these shining extras — soon, and I can't wait for you to hear it. 

“GLOAMING BY GLOAMING”

DECEMBER 2025

Lovelies,

A few years ago I had a panic episode on the summer solstice.

I'd spent the prior two months watching sunsets. Every night — and I mean I didn't miss one — I made my way past "no admittance" signs to my building's battered roof. We know sunsets are beautiful but I believe they are also serious: scheduled loss, primordial neglect. Like going to work, I'd watch and locate feelings. I'm proud to say gloaming by gloaming I collected myself into an entirely more intact person.

But then the summer solstice came! And the thought of tomorrow being just 1.5 minutes shorter was, apparently, too much to bear.

I was, as they say, anxiously attached.

Well now here I am, in my least favorite month, having the inverse experience.

I'm digging this darkness. 

I suspect it's because the past year has been impossibly bright. I've said it before: your home catching fire and releasing an app are both, more than anything, SOCIAL experiences. And your devoted moody songstress is nothing if not wildly introverted. As far as I'm concerned this darkness can be as deep as it likes and take me with it. I'm expanding into the spaces between street lights. I'm curling up in shadows with my secrets. I'm doing my workdays not just in my bed but UNDER THE COVERS!

I'm also trusting this dark's fertility: I see the year I had, I see the 2026 I want to have, and I may even have the beginnings of a (bold-choice-requiring) plan. 

With light,

And all my love,

Rachel

If you could see inside my mind it would look like this. I've vocal-edited nineteen songs over the past sixty days — nine of which are POP songs meaning they have up to ten layers of background vocals. If that seems daunting, believe me it's a terribly satisfying journey from myopic (quieting mouth noises, aligning breaths) to grand (there is nothing like ten layers of pop vocals!!). Somehow all four of my current projects are finishing at once so prepare yourselves for a 2026 release deluge.