Monday, May 12, 2014

Funny Thing About The Past -- And Music...

You can break off all contacts with its people and its places, yet hold fast to the music you picked up from those same people and places at the time and feel little sense of disorientation or disconnect from all that. As if the music you shared outweighs the friendship you shared.

Which, in my case, I guess it does. There was this stretch within my mid- to late-twenties -- my most active songwriting time -- when I strongly thought of my songs as my own children. As much as I wanted to make a career out of music, I always found myself equating selling my songs with pimping my own kids.

Which is absolutely friggin' ridiculous -- no song ever written gives a damn who wrote it, who arranged it, who sang it, who rearranged it, who treasured it, who exploited it, or whatever. But that is one thing I could never quite translate from ideal to reality. For some reason, when it came to music, the absurd took precedence.

As a result, well... what sort of father, in his own mind, pimps his own kids? You just don't do that...

No comments:

Post a Comment

This is a First Amendment zone, but I do use word verification now. If you don't like that, well, this is also a Fifth Amendment zone. Take your pick...