These photos are from a recording session for Azathoth Blues, our upcoming cosmic horror podcast. Chris collaborated with the De Profundis Ensemble to create some genuinely stunning recordings… which are just one small element of the show’s wider soundscape.

I, meanwhile, travelled to Los Angeles, where the three leads and I worked in a studio for days, recording the episodes together in chronological sequence. (More about our process soon.) Then I also recorded in other studios, both physically and digitally, to put together just the right cast of actors for these gritty, fucked-up, but very human characters.

Even that is just a fraction of the effort and money that went into making Azathoth Blues. We took this very seriously. This show dwarfs many a corporate production.

And we’re releasing it for free. Without ads.

Why on Earth would we do that?

Here’s how I see it. Chris and I believe in making art. Our belief in this is akin to a religious belief, absolutely fundamental to who we are and how we see the world. We don’t make #content. We don’t grind or hustle or whatever the latest pseudo-edgy terminology is. We are not trying to serve the market, as artists are often advised to do.

It’s not that we’re opposed to making money. Or that we don’t claim ownership of our art. We’re not making moral claims about the act of selling something. We will happily make things and sell them, as you have to do to survive in this system. (That a different system might be better is a different story.) But the degree to which a commercial mentality has penetrated every single aspect of art these days is absolutely deplorable.

Since we’re dealing with an audio drama, take ads. The way every single podcast gets infected with them, until at some point the podcast itself seems so secondary to the ads that its audience abandons it, a host killed by a parasite. It’s awful, isn’t it, seeing it happen?

Even worse: ad reads. When people whose voices you used to enjoy are used to lure you into buying absolute garbage. And you know they know it’s garbage. Hey guys! I used to have constant problems with belly button fluff until my friend recommended Denavelex. With Denavalex, I never have to worry about bits of lint embarrassing me when I have friends over for belly dancing competitions, and it only costs $199.99 with a yearly subscription!

Is it better if the hosts sound pained and embarrassed reading that vile nonsense, or do you prefer it when they pretend to love it? Degradation or hypocrisy?

The only correct answer is: neither, please.

We are drowning in an ocean of absolute slop, and I don’t just mean AI-generated stuff. I mean the generic content, made without care, without serious artistic ambition, and aimed solely at an audience of illiterate children. That’s how the people who own everything think of you: stupid, childish, easily manipulated, lacking any serious desire to be more or understand more.

But beyond the corporate slop, I also mean the stuff that started with nobler intentions but slowly degenerated into slop due to the logic of having to serve the market, having to sell more ads. Or due to artists thinking they have to please the loudest voices. I won’t name the shows that I loved, that I thought were truly remarkable works of art, but which became shallow self-parodies by the end, a nightmarish alteration of increasingly narcissistic fan service and supplements, socks, and therapy hotlines. I’m sure you have your own examples.

People have truly profound experiences listening to our previous show, Gospels of the Flood. That means a lot to me, because my soul is in that story, and I know both Chris and Peter invested so much of themselves in it, too. But it’s a fragile experience. It’s the words and the music and Peter’s voice. Imagine if it stopped to sell you a product. All of that work would be for nothing.

I mean, this being the internet of today, in a self-cannibalizing fully financialized system, of course someone somewhere will try to insert ads. That sucks. But it’s the intent I’m speaking about. It’s not even the ads themselves that matter. That art will function as a product in some conditions is a given. But to create it with that intent, to have the logic of commerce in your mind during the creative process, is to me a true perversion, a sin.

I’ve used a heavy word there, and I realize how easy it is for this to become a kind of moralistic pose that does not acknowledge the reality of working in this system, or that mistakenly preaches some kind of “dropping out” of capitalism. That’s not the point. I’m not trying to preach moral superiority. But at the same time, I’m not willing to mince words and pretend that I think the arts are in a healthy place right now.

We will, in time, have to offer people ways of giving us money so we can make more Azathoth Blues. I’ve been meaning to put up a Patreon for myself, there may be a Kickstarter, there may be ways of purchasing the show in various formats, etc. But for me, there need to be certain limits. There needs to be a willingness to assert that not every single crevice of our lives should be invaded by financial considerations.

There is a whole other conversation to be had about various ways of selling things in the digital age, and whether there even is any model that still makes sense. Those are bigger, more abstract and more political discussions. But on a visceral level, for me as an artist making this enormous thing that means so much to me, it’s increasingly evident that we have to find ways of doing this without compromising the art itself. We have to make a living, but there are compromises that we must reject.

And so Azathoth Blues is ad-free, and hopefully you’ll enjoy it and help us make more art in the future.