When I was young, maybe about 12 years old, I had a dream of performing my music in front of a sea of people. It was just me under a spotlight, holding a guitar, with a microphone on a stand in front of me. I’m not sure what song I was about to sing, but it felt good to be there.
Tag: artists
It feels true to me that we write primarily for ourselves, whether it’s poetry, prose, a script for stage or screen, lyrics for music or text for commercial copy. We are ultimately the ones to satiate and to fulfil; we will read it (repeatedly), listen to it (a lot), or be subject to its repercussions once released out into the world.
Maybe it’s just that time of year again, but I find that existential curiosities abound in the darker, shorter days of wintertime. I look at the world, and see that the majority of the dominant species seem intent on self-termination, while an increasingly awake and aware collective is emerging that might save us all from ourselves. I wonder, where do I fit in to all this? Why am I here? Who am I… really?
Committing to the unusual, uncommon, or seemingly impractical life can feel like a very weird thing to do. But as you start going down your natural path, daring to enter the arena of your preference, you’ll find very quickly that there are a lot of people in there already!
7 years ago today, I was working with my longtime friend Mark Greenhalgh, a fellow music producer and lifelong percussionist, on the Fleshwound album. We were trying to hammer out live drum tracks, to replace my originally programmed ones.