Chris Farren is a lot of things: here are 10 of them, though more notable than being different shades of hot, Farren is a musician and an illustrator whose most recent project saw him scoring a motion picture soundtrack entitled Death Don’t Wait, which I can’t seem to find on IMDb. It seems for now the OST will be stewing on your streaming service of choice until the estate of Ian Fleming grants someone—maybe Farren?—the rights to the Bond franchise and OKs a first new installment with the very Bond-like title Dead Don’t Wait.
In the meantime, a narrative for the film seems to slowly be coming together, with a live-action title sequence arriving along with the album and today’s reveal of an animated visual for the track “Car Chase!,” which depicts just that—exclamation point and all. Featuring all the violence we’ve come to expect from Farren-as-director, the visual is another fascinating glimpse into the mind of the born-hot creative.
To take us deeper into Farren’s strange and beautiful mental space, the artist himself volunteered to give us an exclusive look into his daily grind as a media darling struggling to make time for all the press opportunities lining up for him post-Death. Get yourself in a weird mental space with the “Car Crash!” video below, and read on for an hour-by-hour breakdown of Farren’s shockingly short daily grind.
Let’s be honest, the press landscape is changing. Just a few years ago, when an artist like me released a new album, we would have to sit on the phone for hours to talk influences and big conceptual ideas with the likes of major print magazine players like Rolling Stone, SPIN, and Alternative Press. Sadly, those institutions no longer exist, and everyone who once worked there is burning in hell.
These days, my team ushers me from building to building to record video and audio content for the new wave of music and pop culture journalist. FLOOD has asked me to write a “day-in-the-life” piece about what it’s like to be an indie artist on a big press day.
4 a.m. I’m picked up from my big house by a black SUV driven by my four managers Trent, Trip, Trut, and Tumper. A lot of independent artists are skeptical of having even one manager, but my managers have assured me they are each very important. Trent orders my merch for me, Trip receives email, Trut forwards those emails to me, and Tumper is actually just Trent’s cat but is very wise about the music business, especially on how to get placement on Spotify’s editorial playlists.
6 a.m. After the ferry ride out to Press Island, we arrive at our first stop of the morning. We’re at the iHeartRadio offices and I’m the second guest of the day on Ryan Seacrest’s Strangle Hour. For the uninitiated, Strangle Hour is the hottest new gonzo podcast from the bad boy himself, Ryan Seacrest. Each guest is strapped to an office chair as Ryan silently reads from your Wikipedia page. Once he reaches the “Personal Life” section, his assistant strangles you until you pass out. It won “Best New Podcast” at the 2021 iHeartRadio Podcast awards—no small feat. It’s a great show and I’m honored to have been invited.
8 a.m. I wake to a splash of water on my face. Still regaining consciousness, I can kind of make out the shapes of string lights, rows of big, plushy bean bags, and charcuterie platters before me. I’m being propped up by my managers, being prepped for my next big press opportunity: an intimate live session for the prestigious PalpaTUNES. I perform a short acoustic set for the room of 15 microinfluencers, 10 regular-sized influencers, and 200 elderly business men. After my set, I am lucky enough to have a quick chat with the founder and financier of PalpaTUNES, former Emperor Sheev Palpatine of the Galactic Empire. He thanks me for performing, I kiss his hand and whisper “It was a great show and I’m honored to have been invited,” and my managers lift me from my waist to my next appointment.
9 a.m. During the aerial tram ride to the black cloud above Press Island, my managers hover around me; they can sense I’m exhausted from the long press day. Trip and Trut comb each side of my mustache as Trent presents me with a short PowerPoint presentation about social engagement strategy. Tumper smushes his little nose into my chest and purrs. The music business can be a cold and heartless place, but I’m so fortunate to have these four on my team. They aren’t just my managers—they’re my best friends. I give them each a crisp $100 bill and take a quick nap for the remaining 30 minutes of the ride.
9:30 a.m. “Mr. J.S. is so excited to see you!” the production assistant yells as she unlocks the metal screen door. We follow her down a long concrete hallway with flickering fluorescent lights, finally reaching the studio where my next interview will take place. The sound-proof door swings open and the next thing I know I’m in a big hug with my old friend Jigsaw.
Now, I know what you’re thinking; “Chris no! Not Jigsaw! He’s canceled!” And yes, sure, he’s been getting some negative attention since a supercut of him forcing people into various elaborately constructed torture puzzles recently surfaced online. But that’s not the Jigsaw I know. He’s a really smart guy—I know his heart, and Jigsaw is not a torturer. He has big ideas and sometimes he says and does things I don’t 100 percent agree with, but he is one of the good ones.
Despite the controversy, his new YouTube show “Jigsaw’s Cold Sauce Challenge” is the #1 viewed web series in America. He and his guest pour increasingly cold liquid chemicals into their mouths as he interviews. And Jigsaw is a great interviewer. There’s just something really appealing to me about talking about my career in the arts.
The interview ends, we fist bump and make plans to meet up again “off mic” soon. I bow before him and emphatically thank him for having me on his show—something like, “It was a great show and I’m honored to have been invited.”
10:30 a.m. Though my managers had another four hours of press lined up for me, this would be my last stop of the day. Unfortunately, due to contact with liquid hydrogen, the lower half of my face contracted frostbite and my jaw fell off. An otherwise easy fix, had Tumper not snatched it up in his teeth and scurried away! Oh, Tumper!
12 p.m. As Trent and Trip followed the trail of blood and fur to reclaim my mandible, Trut drove me back home, all the while praising me for being such a good boy today.
