I feel like I’m floating, floating, and lost sight of the ground. It’s amazing, but at the same time, I keep worrying what will happen if I fall…I don’t know whether the ground is even beneath me anymore. Does the old me even exist anymore? I feel like the old me would know what to do. Or not do. Well, I guess every struggle like this brings with it artistic inspirations…I can already imagine drawings in my head…
It’s not quite like that with music though. When I imagine particular feelings or emotions or struggles, I can’t directly translate that into music. I feel like it’s harder to make that sort of direct association. Yes, on a basic level, I can make “sad music” if I’m sad, but that’s so much less direct of a connection than if I were to draw something about the particular -kind- of sadness that I feel. I think that’s one of the things that interests me about visual art.
I feel like with music, my songs “speak more” by themselves. They have their own sort of emotion embedded within them that appears, or is discovered. I’m working on a song now that started off as something sort of “interesting”, and a little pentatonic, with a slight asian flavor, perhaps. But then the song just erupts into this soaring, soaring, soaring piece, and that wasn’t me at all–it was just the song and what it wanted to do. And of course I’m not going to fight against that at all, that would be silly. My only job when I come into contact with the “feelings of the song” like that is to let it express itself as best as I can, and to give it the right structure and means to express itself.
I think a lot of that is my OHC training and just the way that I’ve learned to make music. I think it’s possible to draw that way too, but I don’t know if that’s better or worse, or what that would feel like.
When I release my social dance album, of course I would want lots of people to come to the release party dance, and to have fun, and enjoy themselves, and think that the music is really awesome, and I want my music to spread and be played at other events, and everything like that. But I think, past all of those shallow wishes, I also wish very music for my music to be understood. I realize that my music probably won’t be understood to have the same meaning that I understand them with, and that’s okay. It’s a little sad, but that’s okay. As long as it’s still understood. After all, who am I to question it if someone derives some equally valid, equally meaningful feeling out of my song that happens to be different than the one I feel? There are certain songs that I feel like I would want to push my own message on, like Together, because it’s really important to me. But for other songs, there isn’t a need for me to do that, and besides, I wouldn’t be able to anyways. I can’t make you feel the same way that I can when I hear my songs, I just can’t!
I feel like when this dance does happen, I won’t actually dance a lot of the dances. Some of them, perhaps, but most of them probably not. The feelings that I get out of just sitting there and listening to the music, I think, is just more than what I would get out of dancing to them. I don’t want to worry about dancing and moves and partnering and all that. I just want to listen to my music, and watch you all as you experience it too. It’s me sharing it with you. It’s different than the relationship between performer and audience because I’m not performing the music, but in a way, I prefer it, because you’re not judging my performance, you’re just judging my work. It’s the same as looking at who I am, rather than what I’m doing.
But god ^$#@, I am going to make it happen. These songs are too beautiful not to be shared.