Potential and Kinetic Energy

Sparks of creativity come and go from day to day.  The magnitude of creativity I feel or generate on a given day can determine my mood.  Days where my creative cap just doesn't seem to be on my head quite right will go by dully and sluggishly.  These days come especially after completely finishing and feeling satisfied with a song or work.  All of my pent-up creativity is at its climax during the finishing process of a song.  Once the song is done, I am forced to dump all of that song-specific creativity out of, what feels like, a whirring city of a head.  What follows is a ghost town of a head.  My creative fuel pump shuts off, and I am forced to start all over again with no momentum. 

There are also days when there doesn't seem to be an end to my ideas, I lose track of them all.  What a wonderful problem to have, or a horrible problem depending on how you look at it.  With so many ideas, all scattered, some related to each other, others not, it becomes a challenge to channel this creativity into a finished project.  During these days, I'll have at least a dozen separate beginnings or themes of projects, but no clue how to progress with them, or no patience to stay with one specific project, knowing I have scores of other ideas at the ready for other projects.  During these days, frustration builds from the lack of accomplishment despite the potential.

Which trait is more desirable in this case: creativity or discipline?

I Hate Music

Today, I finally figured out why people are saying, "I whip my hair back 'n forth" all the time.  Turns out, it's the chorus of a popular song sung by ten-year-old Willow Smith, the daughter of superstar actors Will and Jada Pinkett-Smith, everything of which they touch turns to gold as they please.  Seeing the flashy, well-edited music video of this newly "discovered" pop diva made me realize how hopeless my music career will be.  I am not fortunate enough to have the luxury of asking "Mommy? Daddy?  Can you make me into a pop star?"  

The truth is, I love music.  I just wish I didn't.  Or, at least, I wish the music industry was a much more fertile environment than it is now.  I remember seeing some interviews of high-profile musicians who explained that the only way a musician can thrive nowadays is if his or her album sells more than a million copies.  They'll need to tour and sell merchandise on top of it all in order to see a marginal profit.  How cruel it is that the one thing I think I'm remotely decent at will not reward me sufficiently in my life.  Even given some of the best resources an aspiring musician could ask for, including all the support I need from a creativity-fostering liberal arts college, I'm not going anywhere. Unless my parents have connections to Columbia Records and can afford to hire professionals, who can make any person on the planet appear as though they have talent, I'll still be stuck behind my computer watching four-year-old Shiloh Maddox Apple Jolie-Pitt, or whatever the hell those celebrity babies names are, frolic across the stages of sold-out stadiums.  

If only being a doctor seemed more exciting.  

I Am Worth 7 Dollars

A friendly acquaintance of mine in my college dorm released his first album on itunes today.  He is a remarkably talented singer/songwriter style musician and an animated performer.  It seemed like the big news around the campus; I overheard quite the plethora of people talking about it.  I really am excited for him and I'm sure he will be handsomely rewarded on itunes by this popularity.

And, cue the angry, whining switch.  I, too, have an album on itunes.  This album was released exactly 180 days ago from today.  This afternoon, I checked my bimonthly sales report online.  Since "Seven Sins A Swimming"'s (the title of my album) release, I have sold exactly 9 songs, 7 of which I know are from my brother.  This gargantuan popularity of the album has earned me a whopping 6 dollars and 30 cents.  There is something extraordinarily deflating about putting nonstop effort into a project that not only used up almost a year of my life, but also gave me a sense of pride and a sense of worth, only to realize that this worth is worth less than seven dollars.  So, what's my problem?  Am I not getting the word out enough about my album, or does my music simply downright stink?  Perhaps, I should die like Michael Jackson did; then, maybe, my popularity and album sales will go up.  Anyways, I cannot help but feel an agonizing combination of frustration and jealousy towards my fellow star peer.  Am I wrong to feel this way?  It sure does feel wrong.  I think I'm a drama queen.

Soul or No Soul? That is the Question

I often say to myself while in the middle of writing something: "This could be a chart topper, too bad it sounds like a three-year-old wrote it."  To pass my musical test, my buttons in the oven must satisfy me due to their originality, their sophisticated technicalities, and their overall sound.  Too much music I hear on the radio sounds like a carbon copy of something else on the radio, and, I'm positive I'm not the only one who has realized that.  Sure, those soul-selling artists may make a thriving livelihood and quite a name for themselves because of that music, but I couldn't in all good conscience only make music that people want to hear, which, I like to think, is objectively boring and unimaginative.

On the other hand, I need to think realistically.  I also ask myself: "This sounds amazing to me, but will others like it?  Does it matter?" I'd like to think that it doesn't matter, but I don't want to be the only person at the amusement park, I'd want others to be allowed in and have fun as well, otherwise it'd be no fun for me.  Therefore, I always have to groom my music so that it conforms enough to the point where it's actually listenable for everyone.  

It's difficult to find a compromise between the devil and angel on my shoulders.  Usually, I don't find a compromise, and I either end up writing something only a composer could love, or something that sounds like a cookie cutter product on a conveyor belt.  

There doesn't ever seem to be a win-win situation. 

First Post

Gyahh!! I'm stuck!!! Why can't this music write itself?  This is where I will go to complain about my lack of creativity, my musical inhibitions that need to be destroyed, and my musical freedoms that perhaps need a shorter leash.

I know that there is a limitless potential of unwritten music floating around in a vat somewhere.  The problem is, this vat contains just as much crap as it does masterpieces.  My job is to extract from this vat the melodies that stay in your head for days, the unique sounds that can't be recreated, and the old familiar sounds, all of which fits together in a cohesive, original, authentic piece of work that temporarily lifts my self-esteem to a tolerable level.  This is never easy.  Struggles with laziness, technology, and motivation all make this job nothing short of excruciating at times, but are all worth it when I can finally relax and admire the piece of work created completely by me from scratch. This blog will poke around in my head for my thoughts and feelings about writing music and being an aspiring composer in this harsh musical environment.