netting

Ah!

I didn't expect a blue sky this morning. My favourite surprise in all the world. Bike and I will be heading out shortly.

I wanted to say a few things about music. For the 3rd year running, I was snubbed by the Jazzfest. And as this is now Jazzfest time and nearly all of my musical friends and acquaintances seem to be playing in the festival, I feel the usual sense of exclusion. I'm familiar with this feeling. I've been put to one side many times in my life because, (and I think I can say this with an analytical detachment) I've been too unorthodox. I don't seem to fit into a category. I have a feeling that Vancouver will need some bigger, better festivals to endorse me first. And then suddenly I'll have support from my hometown in spades, when I no longer want or need it. That's okay - I think I can avoid feeling bitter about it. When it comes to art appreciation, it's a pretty conservative city.

Does this sound arrogant? I hope not. The way I see it, there are two ways of responding to this exclusion:

1. Feel dejected, not-good-enough, and discouraged.
2. Feel good-enough but hard to embrace for reasons unknown, and have faith that my path is still my path.
(Either way, I still have to answer people over and over again when they ask, "Are you playing in the festival this year?")

...
I've heard it said that 'you should only be a musician if there's absolutely nothing else that you can do.' It's not an easy life. I long for the day when I won't have to work a job in the city and can support myself with my music. But there's no point longing for it too much, because it may be a long ways off. And actually, I'm extremely grateful that I don't need to support myself with my music, because it would mean that I'd be making music for money.... and guaranteed, that music would not be the kind of music I want to be making. (I guess this is my old refrain.) It does have to be my goal though, or I run the risk of thinking that my music is not worth money, and that I can just make it at my own leisurely pace, for myself, forever. A balance need to be struck. Deadlines and goals force me forward and too much time and freedom slows me down and causes me to lose motivation and ambition. I need to be clear that music is both my passion and my work, that I should be getting paid for it and eventually need to, but that I'm not going to accept musical work that forces me off my path and onto someone else's.

[Man, how it lifts me to look out the window at the glowing grass and the water sparkling under the mountains. I meant to write in my blog last night about the rich harmony of birdsong that accompanied my walk that evening. I haven't heard such dense orchestration since I was in the tropics. Total jubilance.]

History is such a comfort. A pretty large majority of my favourite artists and musicians were overlooked or scorned or ignored during their lifetimes. What's important here, I ask myself? To be loved here and now, or to make something that will outlast me? I have to go with the latter. (Although, if I can do that and also be a little liked, a little loved, so much the better... I can be honest - I want and need validation still. Maybe by the time I'm an old lady I'll have let go of that.) So much more to write about this topic, but I'll leave it for now.

Sometimes I sit at my keyboard and amuse myself by making up simple catchy songs, improvise with Good Ol' iii-vi-ii-V-I or Blues progressions. They sound great, those progressions. They never fail, and can be riffed off infinitely. I know without a doubt that if I wrote and played in that style, I could win over most audiences instantly. Some smoky vocals, sultry lyrics, a short skirt and a pair of stilettos and I'd be half-way to the Junos. (Now I really do sound arrogant. Oh well.) I smile sardonically to myself. Too bad, but the temptation to please others doesn't hold a candle to my fascination with that which pleases me alone.

What it's taken me a long time to get around to is this: I'm excited about music! Musicmusicmusic!

The joy of writing something new and feeling that I've hit on something! The joy of having an idea flutter, flap, soar and careen through my mind, and to chase it with a butterfly net, breathlessly, and get it down on paper! The joy of that sensation of newness and where-did-it-come-from?-ness! The vague and ticklish sense of honour that it came into my mind and not someone else's! The great, great reward for patiently waiting with the net at hand, even after hours and days or sometimes weeks and months, of nothing coming along to catch.

And now, as the sun is roasting my face and arms through the window, I've got to get out there so that I can come back and have plenty more time to pace around with my net.

..