Tuesday’s show marked an important first step. The whole experience has left me encouraged and hopeful for the future. That I expected. The whole experience also left me completely exhausted. I had nothing to give yesterday and no amount of coffee could get me over the hump. That I should have expected. The whole experience left me feeling empty. That, I didn’t expect.
The past three weeks I lived laser focused. My purpose to make the night something special. I prayed every night for the artists, the inspiration, the message and those who would hear it. I kept in contact with everyone involved. Worked out details for the coffee shop and people to run it. Talked it up at every opportunity to friends, family and fellow coffee drinkers. For a glorious three weeks, I pretty much knew exactly what I needed to do each day and I did it.
And it’s gone. It’s complete. It’s over.
I suppose I’m going to have to get used to this. Nothing lasts forever. I don’t like the vacuum, but that feeling led me to an important question.
Playing for the condo’s Christmas party provides an immediate answer, but an unsatisfying one. I’ve resolved to lean in so that I can grow from that commitment, but I find it lacking. Until a moment ago, I couldn’t articulate why. I feel it’s a desire for more of what Tuesday’s show gave me – collaboration and a greater purpose.
Thankfully, my goals for 2020 seem pointed in that direction. One, I am accepting a challenge to live this journey publicly. It will require me to engage with social media, something I’ve avoided in the past, but it continues in the spirit of Tuesday night’s show. I will share the process as I chase my dream in hopes of inspiring others to do the same. I’ll share more as it takes shape. Two, I will be writing songs. This is the one thing that by doing it, everything else I want to do will either become easier or unnecessary. While it’s not quite the laser focused sense of purpose that has guided me over the past few weeks, I feel confident I have a good start and today I feel a little less empty.
Here’s to new beginnings!
I’m about to begin work… and play.
Because yesterday I invested in new tools… and toys.
I’ve spent the morning studying the basics for my new DAW (Digital Recording Workstation). At one moment, the whole experience reminded me of college. I’m studying. Only this time I’m not struggling to drag myself out of bed. It’s not a curriculum of unnecessary classes or restricted access. No one is telling me what I can or can’t do. I get to play.
Sometimes it doesn’t go as smoothly as I expect.
As any child with a new toy, I broke out the software and MIDI controller as soon as I got them. I thought it would be fun to craft a simple arrangement of a Christmas song with my niece and nephew. My actions were the very definition of wishful thinking. An hour later I set everything aside and cracked open the manual. The adult in me, if nothing else, knew the shortcut to play lay a few short lessons away. Now, armed just enough to be dangerous, I’m diving in again.
I’m positive it won’t go anywhere near as smoothly as I hope. It won’t be anywhere near as good as I want. But I can’t wait to get into it. I can’t wait to play, even if I have to work at it to get where I want to go.
And where do I want to go?
To the place where I get paid to play… I mean, work.
“The melody and the chord structure comes pretty quickly, lyrics are the bitch.”
Over the past few days I’ve been writing. Most of the time I don’t have trouble finding words. Ask anyone who talks to me. I rarely have trouble expressing myself whether it be my journal, the occasional poem, or a story. Words come easily.
Most of the time…
Music is the same way. As with Mr. Wainwright, melody and chord structure come pretty quickly.
But “lyrics are the bitch”.
Lyrics wear me out. For me, it’s a grueling hunt. Not just for the deeper story. Not just for the right words. It’s a hunt for words. Period. Just words. It’s a slog through the back country looking for anything to put on the table (though I’m always hoping for a trophy buck).
Someone might think I’m crazy to keep it up. They might wonder why I’m doing it. Sometimes I wonder why I’m doing it. In the end, it’s because I want to. Despite the frustration, I like it enough to keep coming back day after day. I like it enough to sit in front of a blank page. I like it enough to take myself on walks because I know inspiration meets me there. And I like the results. There is a song in all that mess, and I’m going to see it when it’s done. And I hope it will inspire someone the way it inspires me. In the end, I’m an artist and this is my pen. I write with words, and I write with melody.
So I wonder, what is it that you’d come back to time and time again even if it’s a bitch? I hope you’re crazy enough to keep at it.