when the party’s over

September 1st, 2021

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Today I’m releasing a cover of Billie Eilish’s when the party’s over to mark the start of Suicide Prevention Awareness Month. For the year following the release, I’ll be donating proceeds of the streaming income from Apple Music and Spotify to charities centered on suicide prevention and mental health. Furthermore, the original artwork —painted by my friend (and Nashville songbird) Heather Morgan will also be auctioned for the cause.

To be honest, I had never heard a Billie Eilish song until last spring when my wife and I watched the documentary The World’s A Little Blurry on Apple+. The film is a behind the scenes look at the creation process of her first album, and it’s where my appreciation for this song (and for Billie as an artist and human) comes from. When the party’s over weaves in and out of the score, and I deeply felt those few haunting notes every time they entered, ended, or transitioned a scene. There’s not a specific lyric or anything that made me feel a connection to the song —just the overall weight of it.

If you haven’t seen it, it’s worth the watch —regardless if you think you’d be a fan of her music. I knew nothing about Billie and would have never thought I had anything in common with her. In fact, I’m still not sure I do —but learning about her story has inspired me, and made me more empathetic to a younger generation. There’s a moment in the film —one of my favorites— where Billie’s mom tries to describe how hard the world is for kids to navigate these days and why so many of them deal with mental health issues. You could feel her pain when she said that aloud and that just served as such a stark wake up call to me as a relatively new parent who wants nothing but joy for my son. The world is a complicated place, growing more so by the second, and our kids aren’t immune to the troubles that are out there and the ones that lie ahead —no matter how hard we try to prepare and protect them. As my son gets older, I genuinely believe that little anecdote from Billie’s mom will stick with me and serve as a reminder to always practice patience and to never deny empathy to anyone. 

There’s also something to be said for the place I was at mentally when I watched the doc —I was probably a bit more vulnerable than I realized. It was towards the end of the pandemic malaise and a few months after I lost a friend to suicide. He was a wonderful human being —absurdly kind, generous, and outwardly happy. It seemed so sudden, and I couldn’t believe I’d never see him again. I didn’t really process that well. I mostly did nothing. I was sad for a while, did my best to make those he left behind feel loved, and then carried on. That felt wrong, but I didn’t know of a better way to handle it. I lost someone else to suicide a few years prior, and my response was somewhat similar —its just hard to feel anything but helpless.

But after watching the movie —and hearing those first few notes of wtpo over and over again in my head —I had the idea to record a version of the song and use it as a tool to help me raise money for organizations that are working to promote mental health awareness and prevent suicide. It felt like it could be a way for me to not do nothing. 

So yeah, I’m a guy in his mid 30s who really admires Billie Eilish because of a documentary he saw on Apple+. Total dad move. Go figure!

But Billie makes people feel heard. She gives a voice to folks who desperately need one, people who are crying out inside to be seen. Being that voice for someone can help prevent tragedies, and I think that’s incredibly special. Writing songs and stories isn’t a selfish endeavor. It can be therapeutic, sure, but the end product is something you share, something for others to hold on to that makes them feel less alone. That keeps me going.

Let’s do some good together.

//B.A