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Wednesday, December 03, 2003  
Music and Ramblings

We try to write tunes capable of whispering to a sleeping child that in spite of everything, somehow all is well. We try to write words that help us learn to tell the truth to ourselves and others.
--Linford Detweiler

That probably sums up much of what I hope my music is or will be. I caught Over the Rhine for the first time on Sunday night, and they were even better than I expected--not only is their music intelligent, melodic, and literary, but their live performance is inspiring, comforting. Linford and Karin seem like people who'd make great friends; they both smiled often and easily and left pretensions aside. They are living my dream: performing, reaching people with their music, making a living--albeit a modest one, judging from their comments--doing what they love. But who needs tons of money if you have enough to pursue your passions? We don't need a lot of money. / We'll be sleeping on the beach, / keeping oceans within reach. / (Whatever private oceans we can conjure up for free.) / I will stumble there with you / and you'll be laughing close with me, / trying not to make a scene / etcetera. Whatever. I guess all I really mean / is we're gonna be alright. / Yeah, we're gonna be alright. / You can close your eyes tonight, / 'cause we're gonna be alright.

You can't leave their show without feeling the urge to create yourself. Which was needed in my case--lately I've been feeling uninspired to practice my older material; I've been writing new songs but barely touching anything from my sizable catalogue. I'm a little afraid that someone's going to ask me to play and I won't remember at first how to play songs even from the ever-unfinished CD. The last couple of months I've been writing on the piano but doing little else... and my guitar work has been sorely neglected. I suppose I just need to kick myself a little and start practicing, though since there aren't any gigs lined up I guess I haven't felt the urgency of doing so. But it's always dangerous to neglect songs, especially since I don't have even rough recordings of most of them and often don't write down chords; without constant practice, it's possible for them to disappear back into the void from whence they came. While waiting for the CD's completion, I haven't performed lately either... perhaps I need to get myself to an open mic, and soon.

Well, I dare not allow myself any illusions, and I am afraid it may never happen that Father and Mother will really appreciate my art. It is not their fault; we do not see the same things with the same eyes, or have the same thoughts raised in us by them. They will never be able to understand what painting is.
--Vincent Van Gogh, Dear Theo


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