In the Book Notes series, authors create and discuss a music playlist that relates in some way to their recently published book.
Kevin M. Kearney’s novel Freelance is a suspenseful debut that examines the post-capitalist gig economy with dark humor.
Marisa Crane wrote of the book:
“FREELANCE is all the best things: suspenseful, darkly funny, addictive, and a lot of fucking fun. Kearney so astutely peels back the layers of the gig economy to reveal the quiet terror of trying to survive in a late capitalistic hellscape. It’s what happens at the intersection of hustle culture, selfishness, and ignorance—all while being extremely entertaining. This book is one hell of a ride; 5 stars for my driver.”
In his own words, here is Kevin M. Kearney’s Book Notes music playlist for his debut novel Freelance:
I’m a big believer in establishing a writing routine and while music isn’t always a part of it, it’s a necessity for writing a novel—it helps flesh out the larger world, makes me feel like I’m moving alongside the characters, and, I think, does something sort-of magical to my brain.
I’m not smart enough to understand what’s happening on a neurological level, but here’s what I think is going on: listening to the same songs, in the same order, over and over and over, instructs the creative part of my brain that it’s time to jump back into the fictional world.
I think of it like a spell. When I hear those first few notes, my brain starts drifting back to the last time we were at this desk, hearing this song, writing this story. All I have to do is type.
FREELANCE, the story about a young rideshare driver who grows entranced with his employer’s app, is my second novel. Just like I did with my first book, I made a soundtrack pretty early in the process; like picking a title, I’ve found it helps define the thing. Dorkily, I labeled this one FREELANCE (OST), an homage to the overpriced Original Soundtrack CDs of my youth.
Title Fight – “Head in the Ceiling Fan” and “Your Pain is Mine Now”
When I started writing FREELANCE, I was in a pretty major transitional period. Maybe it was a mid-life crisis, but I want to believe I’m going to live beyond my 60s.
I had just left a decade-long career in teaching and moved across the country, from South Philly to a small coastal city in Southern California. It was a lot of change all at once and I was having trouble processing how quickly it had happened.
I was also having trouble finding work and felt embarrassed about it. I was doing some low-stakes contract writing for a few websites, but I was devoting almost all of my attention to this new book, FREELANCE, which I’d just started and was very excited about.
In retrospect, focusing so intently on the book was a coping mechanism. Did I regret leaving huge parts of my life behind? No way, man. I’ve got this new book I’m working on. Those feelings translated to the main character Simon, who is similarly trying to prove to the world and himself that he knows what he’s doing, that he’s doing great, actually.
I don’t remember why Title Fight resurfaced for me at that time. I was always a fan of the band, but I don’t know that I fully understood them when I’d listened previously. They’d been broken up for almost a decade at that point, but I started listening to Hyperview and then Floral Green every day as I wandered around my new town. Those records sound like young adults in search of something, and I guess even though I was no longer anything resembling a “young adult,” I was doing the same thing.
The fascinating thing about listening to Title Fight’s discography now is that you can hear them come of age. That’s why I’m such a fan of their later records, where they are wrestling with disillusionment. Just perfect records and songs. Perfect records and songs to soundtrack this book, too: dark, beautiful, hopeful, and disillusioned, all at once.
Title Fight’s Ned Russin—who’s a novelist in his own right—was gracious enough to write a blurb for FREELANCE, saying, “While FREELANCE is a warning, it’s not without pleasure. This book is dystopian, diabolical, and filled with humor—a page turner that also has something to say.” It meant a lot to have someone who was so (indirectly) involved with the book’s genesis not only read it, but say such nice things.
Roy Ayers Ubiquity – “Everybody Loves the Sunshine”
Maybe the most haunting “happy” song I’ve ever heard. There’s something about that piano and that hanging, high-pitched synth that suggests an uneasiness. I was trying to nail that with the book—that foreboding sense that something could go wrong at any moment—and putting this early on in the track listing was an attempt to have that tone seep into my writing.
Oasis – “Married With Children”
I had just watched the Live at Knebworth documentary and was going through another Oasis period, probably the eighth or ninth in my life. There’s so many fantastic interviews in that doc and by “fantastic interviews” I mean, effectively, “wrestling promos”—just absolutely beautiful segments where Liam or Noel are talking all the shit. This song isn’t that different; it’s just set to music. Simon is self-conscious and anxious, but he’s also undeservedly arrogant and often willfully ignorant. It felt like a natural fit.
Built to Spill – “Kicked It in the Sun” and “I Would Hurt a Fly”
Along with those Title Fight records, I spent a lot of time with Perfect From Now On while working on the book. These two songs always struck me as the poles of that record’s emotional spectrum. “Kicked It in the Sun” is the beautiful and wistful end; “I Would Hurt a Fly” is the haunted, menacing one.
There are times when I’m working on a project that I need to be far away from the internet, so I’ll dub my OSTs to cassette and listen as I sketch ideas on paper. The dichotomy between these two songs was, in essence, the dividing logic for the two sides of that cassette. Side A was the side of Simon’s story that was hopeful; Side B was when things started to head in the other direction.
Cass McCombs – “County Line”
Maybe one of the most beautiful songs ever written? I know that feels like an insane thing to say, but, really: listen to this song. When he climbs up the register for the chorus? Are you kidding me?
There’s close to four minutes of longing and resentment, maybe something in between. Then there’s a coda that sounds like acceptance. I’m pretty sure the narrator’s walking to their death? There’s a good chance I’m projecting my novel onto this, but I don’t think I’m that far off. Play this at my funeral. Please, I’m not kidding.
Kurt Vile – “Blackberry Song”
I wasn’t going to write a novel about Philly and not include KV. Childish Prodigy is my favorite record of his and I think this is its most arresting song—I love that it sounds like he’s a few feet away, in a different room. The lyrics here are totally secondary: this song feels like the emotions I was trying to massage into my story.
The Roches – “Hammond Song”
Simon is obsessed with how he’s perceived by others. What do they think of him? Of his job? Or his lack of a degree? Of his working class parents? He’s paralyzed in nearly every conversation, worried that every interaction is seconds away from becoming a joke at his expense. He’s just waiting for someone to name him as special.
The song is almost too on-the-nose, right? It’s a lecture from someone you love, telling you you’re fucking up. “We’ll always love you, but…that’s not the point.” I mean, god damn. The Roches lived it.
Bill Callahan – “Eid Ma Clack Shaw” and “All Thoughts Are Prey to Some Beast”
Yeah, okay, you can include Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle with those Title Fight and Built to Spill records. I actually had another playlist of just those records. I thought of it as the book’s score, and I’d put it on for longer writing sessions. When things were going really well, it might repeat a few times.
I can’t usually take something so lyrical while I’m writing, but Callahan is different. His records exist out of time; they have their own logic and language. He’s one of those rare geniuses who’s built his own universe. I think my brain was just happy to wander around in there for a while.
Fugazi – “Public Witness Program”
I saw this song as the moment when things are escalating in the novel, when Simon’s dalliance with HYPR begins spinning out of control. The song’s immediate energy—that rapid fire snare at 0:00—always woke something up, reminding me of what I was building toward, even if I was still hundreds of pages away from the actual climax.
Death Grips – “Lost Boys”
I missed the initial Death Grips hype wave, but in my last year of teaching a very cool student told me to give The Money Store another chance and I was blown away. I’m not the first to describe Death Grips as dystopian, but, yes: this was a perfect background to write about a tech-assisted descent into something sinister.
Power Trip – “Nightmare Logic”
I’m realizing that my rationale for most of this back half is percussive. I needed songs that kept the pace up, that constantly reminded me that everything needed to be severe, even if I was writing about an ostensibly friendly conversation.
When I was writing the book’s climax—a tense interaction between Simon and a politician opposing HYPR’s business practices—I blared “Nightmare Logic” on repeat for a solid hour. I’d write a sentence, paced around my kitchen for a few beats, then sit back down to write the next one. Did I mention this was in a basement apartment? I’m thinking I might need to retroactively apologize to my neighbors.
Misfits – “Cough/Cool”
Despite growing up in a New Jersey punk scene, I always thought the Misfits were corny. (To more than one of my closest friends: I’m sorry.) But, hey, this is one of the greatest goth songs ever. It’s genuinely unsettling, terrifying even, mostly because it’s constantly swerving out of time, like it’s all about to fall apart.
I wanted the book to feel the same way because I know that’s how Simon’s life felt. I’m guessing, at some point or another, we’ve all felt that way.
Kevin M. Kearney is the author of FREELANCE: A NOVEL (Rejection Letters) and HOW TO KEEP TIME (Thirty West). His work has appeared in Slate, Stereogum, XRAY, and elsewhere. More at kevinmkearney.com.