I have some new music out today. I recorded this while I was recovering from surgery on the index finger of my left hand. Playing was extremely painful at this time and I was wondering if the pain was going to be permanent. The pain and uncertainty fueled the track, forced me to slow down and contemplate. If my body didn't allow me to make music anymore, am I still a vessel for music?
So many examples in human history have shown us the extraordinary capability to overcome obstacles to fulfill our life's purpose. Beethoveen composed much of his music while being deaf, Jason Becker composes music while his body is paralyzed by ALS; I watched a man play the guitar with extraordinary expression using only his feet...Certainly, not having full use of my index finger was something that could be overcome. In fact, I have an obligation to overcome it. What would I be if I didn't overcome it?
I have to be honest about the experience though. It came at a uniquely difficult moment for me and I was deeply depressed. A musician's relationship with their art and with their instrument can be a complicated one. From the outside it is supposed to be a beautiful expression of your inner person, giving joy to people, connecting us emotionally to the world around us, and it certainly is that. It is also a daily struggle to improve on a task with no end, no true benchmark for success or failure, a daily discipline which involves sacrifice. Strangely, the better you get at it, the less relatable it can make you. Music that you connected easily to doesn't always survive the measuring stick that lengthens with your knowledge and experience, and the music that does measure up is often not relatable for the people around you. Music that the people around you love and appreciate feels like the musical equivalent of Dr. Seuss (not that I don't absolutely adore simpler music. In fact I think simplicity is crucial to communication in all forms).
Listening to music becomes an all-consuming experience, not a passive one. When you do it professionally, now it becomes tied to your ability to support yourself, and you know you are setting yourself against unfeasible odds just to survive. You watch people with a fraction of your understanding reach huge success which is not really about their musical ability, but about their ability to create something relatable, about pure charisma, showmanship, frequently style over substance...We overthink...
I mostly write music without lyrics. There is something open-ended and interpretive about this music that allows the listener to define what it means to them. I don't like spoon-feeding meaning into my music. That said, this was the head space I was writing from when I wrote this.
The first note I played on the guitar in this song was an experiment for me. Can I convey the complexity, pain, the need for connection to the instrument into just one note? The note feeds back. It fights back at me, a little uncontrollable. It didn't want to go where I was taking it, and we compromised and went somewhere new together.
Playing the electric guitar, when all of the circumstances are just right, is like riding a bull or surfing a huge wave. When there is enough volume for the amplifier to microphonically affect your pickups, and you have to ride the bloom of that note just right to get the effect you are going for. You develop a sixth sense for where that note is going to go and depending on how you angle your guitar, where your volume knob is, how you tweak the amp, you can get control of the uncontrollable. Without that knowledge and experience, someone would pick up the guitar and it would just screech into harsh feedback...
Today, the pain in my index finger has been mostly replaced by numbness and a chunk of scar tissue that frequently gets in the way of simple tasks that I have done effortlessly for the previous 40 years. It's not awful, but it's not what it is supposed to be. It may improve over time. I'm a year and half removed from the surgery. Most people won't hear any difference, but I feel it every time I pick up the instrument.
I'm particularly proud of this piece of music. It's deeply personal and meaningful to me, if not the easiest listen. Listening to it, I feel what I felt as I created it...