Will I be here next summer? is the question posed in the opening lyric of today’s song “Billet d’amour”— a tune written during the wind-up to my move across the Atlantic back in 2019. It’s also the question I’m quietly wondering to myself now as I look out across the expanse of orange stucco rooftops and cliffs lining the Mediterranean on our five and a half hour train home from Cannes to Paris.
Listen to “Billet d’amour” (demo):
This song was written on May 15, 2019
The festival’s opening weekend was a washout, as is the case every year apparently, but it was nonetheless adequately teeming with both makers and lovers of film, friends, family, celebrity worship, and beachfront debauchery. Plus, at any rate, two De Niro sightings in two days equals a good time in my book.
This year’s festival was special: after a few decades producing films, my father-in-law had his first project officially selected for Cannes. An obvious cause for celebration, we booked our trip down with Janis’s sister and her husband for the Friday night premiere of “Flo,” his new biopic about Florence Arthaud, renowned French sailor and the first and only woman to win the famous Route du Rhum race between Saint-Malo and Guadeloupe.
We stuck around through the weekend to attend other screenings and events. On our last night in town, Janis and I were at an afterparty for a major French director, and while thoroughly enjoying my tequila soda, I voiced to her this sense of my having “no business being here.” She naturally and wholeheartedly disagreed: Not only had we literally been invited by friends who worked on the movie, but I had also personally made a series of life choices that had led me to this particular place and time. She was right, of course. I took another drink.
Impostor syndrome is a funny thing.
Over the years, I’ve found myself in certain scenarios or performing roles that were seemingly out of the realm of possibility for an earlier version of myself. I once DJed a party for Peroni after hours at the National Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C. — but I’m not a “DJ”. I’ve been the voice of major car commercials and overdubbed an Amazon true crime series — when I’ve never studied acting. I’m now returning from a weekend spent at the Cannes Film Festival, tuxedoed on the red carpet and sharing space with the likes of Natalie Portman and Julianne Moore — yet I’m a nobody. I say none of this to brag — well, not exactly — it’s just that, um, you know, it’s like Kanye said:
“My life is dope and I do dope shit."
Let me try to make a more relevant connection.
The central focus of my life is not fame or access to prestigious events but rather becoming the best artist and songwriter I can be. That path requires constantly stepping out of my comfort zones—be it exploring new instruments, collaborations, processes, or forms—and I often experience pangs of ineptitude or unfitness along the way. When I cross virtuosic pianists or guitarists, for example, I can sometimes feel unworthy with their proverbial pen in my hand, but the reality is that the instruments I play are only a means to an end. They are vehicles for composition, arrangement, and, honestly, just fun.
This normalization of discomfort spills over into all aspects of life, and it’s through prolonged periods of friction that we grow. It’s an irritating truth about a life lived artistically because it never ceases to confuse and deceive us as we blindly navigate dark, unknown waters. Each stride forward presents us with phases of extreme doubt and exclusion that often last for months, and it’s here that we must masterfully execute not instruments or technique but faith.
Impostor syndrome is funny, and it’s also a rite of passage. My first-ever DJ gig was for a Hugo Boss event in uptown Manhattan. Someone asked me if I also DJed aside from playing music and I said yes—an outright lie. The day before the party, I downloaded the appropriate software and went to Guitar Center to learn how to use the decks and controller. I was more than qualified come “showtime”. The reality was, after a crash course through the technical side of things, all I was truly hired for was my taste and selection of music, something I’ve been obsessed with for the better part of my life.
I’m a devout believer in doing things before we’re “ready”.
I find myself frequently seeking out the butterflies and anxiety that are stirred up each time I attempt something brand new on stage or confidently agree to a job I’ve never done before. Indeed, by launching this newsletter or writing about this topic, I’m not only flexing a new arm of creative expression, but I’m also reminding myself to do so more frequently. At the risk of sounding like some creator economy self-help stooge, I do think I speak for many artists when I say that after years of pursuing this particular lifestyle, it’s precisely that sort of language and thinking that can be pivotal in keeping us on track and not losing faith in our own validity and artistic worth. ◍
About the track:
This is the first and only song I’ve personally written containing lyrics in French. While it’s now my adopted second language, I don’t have a particular interest in incorporating it into my songwriting at this time, apart from when I’ve performed Gainsbourg covers at a concert or co-written music with francophone artists.
In this demo, le français is limited to the chorus because I’ve always intended to have it sung by a French woman, a kind of call and response between the receiver and sender of a love letter or “billet d’amour.” I also intend to have said guest perform the spoken word outro in a thick accent, so you can use your imagination and let me know if you dig the idea. Oh la la comme ce sera sexy.
This song was written from a place of uncertainty about the future of my relationship with Janis, which I suppose at the time was on the rocks as we were trying to figure out the move and life change ahead. I don’t really remember, to be honest, but the evolution of the lyrics from doubt and conflict to a more assertive declaration of love gives me that sense.
You can always pay a visit to my previous demos and writing via the Substack archive + find my official music releases on Spotify, Apple, or your platform of choice. Find me across socials at @thisryanegan. While you can read these directly in your email, I recommend downloading the app or opening the link in a browser for a better reading experience.
With love,
Ryan
Check out the previous post.
I reallly loved this post and related to lots of it. Also y’all truly did look fire and I would have thought you guys were VIP if I had seen you stroll by on the carpet.