Toni Morrison is dead! I recall being very pregnant, reading Beloved and feeling my womb along with my baby harden at certain passages. One of the books I relished was Black Milk by Elif Shafak. Why am I thinking of writers and babies? Ah yes, I have insomnia and my mind is littered with words and music. I was reflecting on my journey, ten years, so far in music.
I love and hate being a team of one. There are things I just don’t get right. My numbers on YouTube are dismal because I am too busy writing music or planning shows and at some point I just stopped caring. But wait…I do enjoy the freedom of not giving a single fuck and exploring music as far and as deeply as I want to. This does make me wonder if my journey of one in music is similar to my journey of one in love…
Probably. I have so many strong personalities around me that I feel rather tame by comparison. My people have no problems firing shots at anyone who has a whiff of injustice around them. I, on the other hand, enjoy understanding why the injustice has presented itself in the first place. This is why I am able to foster deep connections with ease.
Yet music…I compose alone most of the time. I think about words and phrases,about scenarios that would generate music alone. I once told someone that aside from music I was happiest being a mother to a young child. The energy was that of pure exploration and imagination. Possibly the only time I did not feel alone was with my daughter when we created little worlds of our own as we bathed for hours on end, while defending our fortress against some slimy monster I just invented or dancing to our very own punk musical using her toy animals. Before music…. she was island, my oasis.
I enjoy two kinds of people. Those who challenge my thinking by inhabiting strange worlds of their own and those who can really hear music. For example….if I play a song with bad piano…I will only pass it on to someone who could imagine the sweeping strings, or the brass blasting from every side of the room or the piano played with such delicacy. Can you hear it? Or is the badly played piano all you feel? In fact I have left every man, every friend… for the very same reason; their poor hearing and lack of belief.
Imagination……it is where I live along with a piano that grows out of a tree and it just happens to have a steady supply of thick chocolate milkshake on sunny days and whiskey when it gets cold. And once I step into it, into that space….can you walk with me? Will you close your eyes without fear as the sound and roots encircle you ? Or will you try to douse the fire and look at me strangely as music sets every bone in my body on fire?
This is a serious concern, especially as I think of my 6th album or is it the 7th? I enjoy music that shifts, especially in terms of sound and subject matter. Okay, fair enough….someone is bound to die somehow. Yet, I know I need to find the producer who will give me the sound I require as it is unlike what I offered musically before. It is a bit ambitious to be honest. They need to be able to get into that musical, magic tree with me and stay….possibly for a while. As I want to leave whoever listens, when I am on dry land, with the feeling of….wonder. Even if a little bit of blood was spilled.
It’s almost 4 am, time for my last smoke and a few hours of sleep before I agonize about more words, music and possibly a murder or three…