Creativity Quote by David Friedman

There’s a hustler’s tenderness baked into this line: the kind of stubborn devotion that doesn’t wait for permission. David Friedman isn’t describing a savvy business pivot so much as a workaround for an industry that often can’t recognize what’s right in front of it. The intent is plain and audacious: Nancy LaMott deserved records made with care, and if the gatekeepers wouldn’t open the door, he’d build a new entrance.

The subtext is about power. Producing an album is artistic midwifery, but it’s also control over budgets, timelines, repertoire, and how a voice gets framed for history. By “creating my own record company,” Friedman quietly exposes how access in music frequently depends less on talent than on infrastructure: who owns the studio time, who believes enough to front the money, who can manufacture and distribute belief. It’s a statement of faith disguised as logistics.

Context matters because LaMott’s legacy sits in that precarious space occupied by cult-beloved performers: revered by musicians and insiders, easy to overlook in a marketplace that rewards spectacle over intimacy. Friedman’s move reads like an act of cultural preservation, a refusal to let a singular interpreter remain a rumor passed between cabaret devotees. The line lands because it makes the romantic part of art-making concrete: love, here, is incorporation papers and pressing plants. It’s the least glamorous kind of loyalty, which is why it feels so true.