Farley emerges as a perplexing figure in the landscape of digital culture, prompting questions about the nature of art in the age of algorithms. Is his approach, which some might label as spam, a cynical outcome of platform-driven culture, or does it represent a unique, even delightful, form of outsider expression? The debate circles around whether Farley, known for works like the “Poop Song,” is merely an internet novelty or akin to Steve Keene, the prolific painter celebrated in art circles. Intriguingly, Farley himself has created a song about Steve Keene, featured on his album “I Am Not Wasting My Life,” hinting at his own reflections on these questions of artistic purpose and validation, perhaps even pondering a deeper song, why me?, in the grand scheme of artistic recognition.
Meeting Farley in Danvers revealed a man of striking transparency. His youthful appearance, described as “youth-pastory,” coupled with his consistent attire—a fleece-lined hoodie for all New England winters—presents an image of unassuming dedication. His punctuality is almost compulsive; arriving an hour early for our meeting underscored a personality driven by an internal clock set to maximize every moment.
Despite the often perceived stoner aesthetic of his creations under the moniker Motern, Farley is teetotal and avoids drugs. His eating habits are reminiscent of a child’s pickiness. At a seafood restaurant renowned for its belly clams, he opted for chicken nuggets, heavily seasoned with an excessive amount of salt and pepper. His musical taste, enjoyed during our car ride, spans classic rock like the Rolling Stones, the Replacements, and Tom Waits. He humorously mentioned his “mammoth accomplishment of self-control” in refraining from playing his own music, a restraint seemingly unnecessary given the purpose of my visit was precisely to delve into his artistic world, including the potential for a poignant song, why me?, within his discography.
Farley’s life revolves around creation and the desire for audience engagement. Choosing isolation in Manchester, N.H., after Providence College, he intentionally minimized social distractions, viewing social events as time diverted from his artistic pursuits. The concept of downtime is alien to him; time not spent creating—be it songs or scripts—is, in his view, time wasted. Rejecting conventional paths like film school, he opted for a job at a group home, working condensed hours to dedicate the majority of his week to music and filmmaking. His early promotional efforts were grassroots and persistent: distributing Moes Haven CDs in public spaces and record stores, even offering rides to the airport as opportunities to share his music, each act a step in his journey, perhaps unknowingly searching for the answer to the question posed by a hypothetical song, why me? in the vast expanse of artistic creation and reception.
