2026 didn’t ease in.
It kicked the door open.
The year started heavy, loud guitars, sharper edges, momentum that doesn’t ask permission. Publicity dropped. Digital Empire followed. And now we’re stepping into something different with Echo, mellow on the surface, but carrying weight underneath.
If you’ve been riding along since January 1st, you can probably feel it.
This isn’t random output.
It’s rhythm.
A new song every single week means there’s always something waiting for you. Something new to press play on when you’re driving home late. Something to sit with when the house is quiet. Something to turn up when you need to shake off whatever the day threw at you.
That consistency matters.
Not because it’s ambitious.
Because it’s dependable.
You know the feeling when your favorite band disappears for years and you’re left wondering if that last album was the last album? This year is the opposite of that.
Every week, there’s a pulse.
And that pulse continues with Echo.
Echo isn’t soft.
It’s restrained.
It carries that tension you feel when you’re holding something in, not exploding, not collapsing, just existing in that in-between space. The kind of song that sounds calm until you realize it’s hitting somewhere deeper than you expected.
If you’ve ever felt like your thoughts bounce back at you louder than you said them…
If you’ve ever replayed a conversation in your head long after it ended…
Echo understands that.
Beyond the music itself, there’s something else happening.
Every release has its own visual identity. Posters. Shirts. Limited-run items that exist because the song exists. It’s not merch for the sake of merch. It’s artifacts.
Wall posters of the artwork are now part of that world. Printed on high-quality paper. Tangible. Something you can actually put in your space, not just scroll past.
Music used to live in physical form.
Vinyl sleeves. CD booklets. Liner notes.
There’s something grounding about bringing that back into your room.
If you’re paying attention, there’s also a quiet reward system built into each week. The clever ones find the discounted items before the wider world catches on. It’s not about urgency, it’s about participation. Being inside the rhythm instead of outside it.
Last week added another layer.
New Orleans.
The city where jazz was born. A place that feels like music never left the sidewalks. I stepped away from my own work for a minute to help out my girlfriend and her high school jazz band. Watching young players pour themselves into charts older than they are, that does something to you.
It reminds you why this all started.
We ate incredible food. Heard live bands that felt like they were playing for survival, not attention. The air was mild. The nights stretched long.
There’s a spot there called Dooky Chase’s Restaurant.
Small group. Lucky break. A table opened up when the people ahead of us didn’t want to wait. That kind of timing feels almost scripted.
Stuffed shrimp.
Gumbo.
A waitress who casually shared what former President Barack Obama once ordered when he dined there, and the story that followed. It’s one of those tales that you can’t Google your way into. You have to be in the room. You have to ask.
Moments like that stick.
Not because they’re glamorous.
Because they’re lived.
That trip, the music, the food, the stories, fed directly back into what you’ll hear in the weeks ahead. Not technically. Not mechanically. Emotionally.
Energy in. Energy out.
Back home, the pace hasn’t slowed. New songs taking shape. Visual worlds being built. One animated cover test ran recently and I’ll just say this, it felt right. The kind of right that makes you stop mid-sentence and just watch.
It’s coming.
And when it lands, you’ll see what I mean.
But here’s the bigger picture.
This year isn’t about scattered releases.
It’s about momentum.
About building something week by week that you can rely on. A soundtrack to your year, not just a playlist filler.
If you’ve already signed up for the Jody Army, you’re inside that circle. You see things early. You get the extra edge on new drops. If you haven’t, now’s the time.
Because 2026 isn’t slowing down.
It’s not dipping a toe in.
It’s moving.
Every week.