I was always reluctant to take the productivity methods that I use at work and apply them to the creative endeavors that I take on at home. I was afraid that GTD, Personal Kanban, and the Pomodoro Method might make it too much like “work” and take all of the joy out of it.…
What is music for? We listen to it because we like it. But why do we like it? There’s no one good solid answer to this. We just like it because we like it. It’s the same with all of the arts.
But “How is music used” is a different question altogether. Music is used to sell products, to soften the heart of someone special, to fill the room with some noise. It’s used to remember, to take us back to when we were in high school, college, first in love, first drove a car. It’s all of those things.
A few weeks ago I got to play for some friends while we were in California. Ten of us, plus or minus, gathered around a piano we found in an empty conference room after a long day of business and a few drinks. I pulled up some lyrics on my phone, sat down, and started to play and sing to my friends gathered around.
This is unusual for me. Generally when I play I am in my studio playing things that no one else will ever hear. You would be grateful for that if you heard some of it. Occasionally I’ll post something on Soundcloud or Bandcamp, but it is by and large a solitary pursuit. It’s just me in my studio with headphones, lights blinking in the dark silence.
Every now and then someone listens to one of those songs, and most likely that person was on her phone or laptop, alone within her headphones. Silent and solitary to the outside world. Someone was searching for something that resonates with her soul in the vast darkness of internet space and for a moment, she found it in one of my songs.
I get a little digital blip that someone liked it. Someone shared. Someone commented. Someone downloaded. Like Morse code signals from far away there is something affirming about that. We have a connection of sorts.
But that night in Half Moon Bay, the piano was our campfire. As I sang I was the tribal poet telling the familiar stories of love and heartache. And as I sang the last chorus of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” I heard the voices of people I care for singing with me. We were all connected in that moment by something beautiful and as old as humanity itself.
That’s what music is for.
Art is the constant stripping away of our sequestered dogma and the layers upon our perceptions. It’s a continual violation of what we hold sacred and true, a constant clawing at the eyes and ears to remove the build-up of experience and expectation. It is to truly see, to truly hear. Art hurts. It tears at our souls. It reveals us to be the petty things that we are and beckons us higher. By its alchemy we are transmuted from drudges living by rote into beings incandescent, vibrant with the spark of all that is divine in the human spirit.
So I haven’t written any posts lately. But I’ve been working on a TON of music. Here are the details.…