It’s seems important to have markers—points along the continuum to clearly state something has ended and something has begun. And even though most people seem drawn towards delineations on some level, there’s something about having kids that really pushes the demand for recording the beginnings and the ends.
It starts with birth and quickly becomes first foods, words, and steps. Just as you record one marker another has already passed, and pretty soon you just can’t keep up. But today was a clear marker that’s pretty easy to name but hard to consolidate into a concise description that captures everything that was experienced.
Okay, this doesn’t have anything to do with music, but it’s a flame-throwing guitar. Musicians and geeks alike gotta appreciate.
The last couple days have been more of the same of what we’ve grown accustomed to in America. Gridlock in the government. Two opposing sides, digging their heels into their ideals, stubbornly resisting any inkling of progress. I was almost brought to tears when I saw Rep. John Lewis’s speech before the sit-in—tears of pain and frustration at our inability as a people to make our country safer by implementing at least some restrictions on guns in America.
Yet another gem from NPR’s Tiny Desk Concert series: The Wild Reeds. Folksy surfer-type rock from LA with three women switching off between instruments and lead vocals. Perfect for lazy summer days or late night drives with the windows down.
This rendition is so soulful and haunting that upon first hearing it, I felt as if it conveyed much of the spirit that I can only imagine Cobain & Co. had in mind when they wrote the original. Not many jazz remakes of rock/alternative classics turn out, but Ben Williams absolutely kills this. Enjoy.
It’s something I lost track of years ago in my struggle to be a professional musician. I was a professional—paid to play, teaching at two different music schools—but was always so afraid of making mistakes and failing that I lost track of what I loved about playing. This piece by Macklemore names exactly the thing that I think I’m still looking for: that feeling of joy in making and creating music, not because I have to but because I get to.
What I couldn’t find in a hotel room, on the road or in Seattle, I found in the middle of nowhere. No reception. Making music not because we had to, but because we got to. I had forgotten how to do that. Not being afraid of the platform we were standing on. Not creating from a place of “don’t fuck up” but creating from a place of “fuck it up.”
It’s what I try to teach my kids and it’s what I want for myself.