vacation

Posted by on September 29, 2009 No comments

We took a trip back to the frozen northlands of my birth last week. It was wonderful. The weather was cool and breezy. Humidity was low. There wasn’t much sun, but I didn’t mind at all. Sitting on the deck of the house where I grew up, I listened to the sound of wind chimes and the familiar silence of the neighborhood. I used to sit on that deck playing my guitar for hours. Sometimes working over the same piece again and again until it was just right. The sun would slip away and everyone would find their way indoors. A unique memory among the many I have of the different places I’ve lived.

Walking around town was like taking a step back in time. Some places hadn’t changed at all. The streets from our house to the elementary school were exactly as they were when I travelled them thirty years ago. Other things felt like they were missing. People, mostly. But the place was, well, home.

It was a great trip and I’m glad that we made it.

FIRE!

As with all vacations, I took a break from music making. There was some intention of editing but that didn’t pan out. It never does. Resting needs to be complete for me. However, this week doesn’t look too good with the new Ken Burns documentary running on PBS every night. I know better than to think that we’ll get it on Netflix and watch it later. It’s now or never. So that will be two weeks out of the studio. Not the end of the world by any means. I’m counting it as vacation time that will leave me refreshed and ready to finish up this project and get to the next. Because I’m really excited about the next thing on my list.

start where you are

Posted by on September 18, 2009 No comments

Emusic has had its ups and downs but I keep my subscription in tact for taking chances. Given the choice between dropping $10 on an album by way of a recommendation or hitting up Emusic for a pile of downloads, the Emusic options almost always wins. It is not, however, a place to dig up tunes that were influential in my musical development. There are so many old albums that I would love to capture digitally and can’t. But from time to time I’ll search on Emusic in the vain hope that something will show up. Occasionally that brings on some serendipity.

A search for Robert Fripp didn’t get me what I wanted but did return an interview with him done by his sister Patricia called From Good to Great: Beginner to Mastery. It seemed interesting enough to blow a pile of downloads on, so I did. It was an impressive talk. I have read that Mr. Fripp is quite a good teacher and I can hear that in his presentation. His words reveal a highly organized mind that spends its time really examining and simplifying problems. It’s the simplification that signals a good teacher. While at first blush some of it smelled like a training seminar powerpoint manifesto, in short order it started to make more and more sense. His presentation wasn’t a trick or a gimmick but was based on deep experience that dripped off of every word.

resonate

The thing that Mr. Fripp said that got my attention and stuck with me throughout was simple. In discussing a question about moving from good to great he chose to step back and go from bad to good. A fine point missed by many. In reference to the journey he said that you start “where you are.” In other words, it doesn’t matter where you were yesterday, to improve you have to start where you are today. Tomorrow is still a dream and yesterday is over. It’s all about today.

I personalized that a little too much as I rolled it over in my head. I neglected my creative work for the better part of a decade and that has filled me with regret that at times can cause paralysis. Where did all of that time go? How could I have neglected core parts of myself? Why do I think that I can produce anything of value after such a lapse? But if I start where I am today, with all of the experience I have to date, I can improve. Progress happens over time. Today is time.

It was about four years ago that I started to put myself back on track. A lot of water has passed under (and over) the bridge since then. Not to sound like a poster from the detention room in my Junior High or anything but the decision to start something is the first step to achieving something great. Without that spark, there’s nothing. Of course that spark without action might be worse, but that’s for later.

cooling down

Posted by on September 18, 2009 No comments

Moving to Texas was a rough adjustment for me. Completely worth it, all things considered, but not easily done. When I’m having a miserable day due to the insanely hot and muggy weather I’ll often ask whoever it is calling me a whiner “How many vikings do you find in the jungle?” That said, the three digit temperatures seem to have retreated and we’re supposedly headed into the tolerable part of the year when the wind blows cool and breathing outside doesn’t hurt. I know that not all of Texas is like this, but the coastal plains are pretty miserable starting in May and running through, well, close to now. With the humidity and heat index dropping, my work ethic is growing. I’m coming out of hibernation.

POWER UP, BABY!

And it’s just in time! September 23rd, as some part or other of the mighty Internet has told me, marks the point where there are 100 days left in 2009. Since my little 10 Days Project to kill my personal creative block, I have become a huge fan of random deadlines made up of round numbers. With that in mind, I am planning to complete the following projects:

  • Release my current collection of songs in an album-like format. FOR FREE!
  • Complete the piece of electronic/computer/tape music that has been buzzing around in my brain and notebooks.
  • Optional: finish building my acoustic guitar (I’m so very close now). [This is optional due to weird things like humidity and potential tool acquisition.]

The part of me that thinks this is too modest a list hasn’t really listened to the so called drum mixes on the tracks I’m preparing. He needs to get in line with the “24 hours in a day” principle.

pencils

Posted by on September 16, 2009 No comments

Computers have solved a lot of problems for me. My happy little MacBook Pro takes care of almost every facet of my life. All of my creative work is recorded there. My family pictures and my music collection both reside in its domain. Most of the communication I have with my friends and family is computer based. It’s a marvel and an incredible tool. But there must always be balance. For every Logic Studio there is a twitter account. For each video chat between my son and his grandmother there is a Facebook. In truth, the computer in my life is a time altering device. It greatly amplifies or diminishes the quality of my time. I see little middle ground.

Case in point: I have eight songs that aren’t so bad. I’m moving them around and mixing and remixing bits and pieces. Trying to polish them without losing any of the strange edges. It’s not easily done and it’s impossible to do with 100% focus. I should say it’s impossible for me to do with 100% focus. My mind wanders. I lose track of what I was listening for. The flow comes and goes. But if my hands are busy, I can focus infinitely. Since practicing scales or noodling with the guitar while listening does’t work well and I never learned to crochet, I have taken to painting while I listen.

Again, I’m not a painter. It’s one of the things I do without holding myself to any kind of standard. I’m allowed to suck. Everyone should have a hobby like that!

With the music moving and a notebook at hand, I drag the paint around the canvas on a tour of its edges. Colors combine and create divisions. I am calm and centered. It’s a meditation. When the songs end, I remember my comments exactly and I note them. The playlist starts over and I return to the paint.

After a second listening and some notes I’m reluctant to turn to the computer. The constant input is too much. I make more notes in my journal and enjoy the sound of the pencil on the paper. It occurs to me that in terms of creative problems, the pencil has done me more good than the computer. What I feel is a sense of the quality of my time. The computer can take tasks like recording or editing and make them so efficient that I can do more in an hour than I could do in a day ten years ago. I can fit a room’s worth of effect pedals and rack units in its tiny case. In those instances, it is improving the quality of my time. I can do more in less and that’s amazing.

It’s the other chunks of time that concern me now. Breezing through endless status updates or clicking random links. It’s like a slot machine but more addictive and less riddled with guilt. The addiction to the twitches on the web comes easily. Effortless stimulus on demand. Time simply disappears. And that’s the problem. If my time is going to disappear, I would prefer that it go in the pursuit of making things in a far less efficient manner. Pushing pencils. Filling notebooks and idly strumming on the floor of my studio.

I’m unplugging more (he said in his blog). At night, the computer goes into the studio and stays there. Less time on the network and more time using the tools. And much more analog activity. More notebooks. More staff paper. More pencils. And an evil side project that appeared to me in a nap and literally fell from the top shelf of my closet.

showing up

Posted by on September 14, 2009 No comments

It’s been weeks since I raved about The War of Art by Steven Pressfield so I need to ramp it up again. I read a lot and there have been many books that have impacted the way I work but never has one gotten me into the habit of working like this one. The motivational force it contains and unleashes on the unwitting artist is impressive.

I get excited about my studio time throughout my day. On my drive to work I listen to what I did the night before. At lunch, I edit and review and journal about it. On the way home, I visualize my session and think deeply about what I want to accomplish. But with the boy in bed and the day’s chores all done it is still difficult to drag myself into the studio and drop down into the headspace needed for the energizing but draining process. It is so much easier to plop down on the couch with a book or the endless timesuck that is the Internet and accomplish nothing. But the passage from The War of Art that affected me most deeply leaps to mind and literally saves my day:

A professional always shows up.

I think about how tired I was that morning when I got out of bed. Maybe I was a little on the ill side. The urge to call in might have been there, but I didn’t. I got dressed, drove my car to my job, and went to work. I was a professional. And I owe my creative work the same level of respect afforded to my colleagues at my day job. I have to show up for me.

pickin' and grinnin'

I’m certain that the amount of effort and mental fortitude required to avoid the many and varied distractions available to the modern person have a lot to do with why so many projects don’t get finished or even started. It isn’t easy to close the web browser and open a new empty document or work on that painting that has been languishing on the easel for a month and taunting its creator. How many songs are hummed while mowing the lawn and never get written because someone posted another “How well do you know that guy you went to high school with but haven’t spoken to in over a decade” quizzes on Facebook?

The difference between a novelist and a guy with a story idea is hundreds of hours of work and a finished product that can be pointed to and shared. Well, that and the immense satisfaction that comes from completing something that wasn’t demanded by anyone but himself. Is there anything better than that?

I’m not an extrinsically motivated person. The carrot and the stick are wasted on me. If the desire to do something doesn’t start inside of me, there’s little hope for it. That’s true in any part of my life and I think it’s true for most people. But if we don’t show up, all of that desire is for naught.

And showing up? It feels good. When I leave my studio at the end of even the worst session I still feel better than if I had gone to bed without putting in the time. None of it is wasted when it’s spent developing my craft. The same can’t be said of the myriad toys and silliness that pass for relaxation.