Mending the Stardocks
I've started over. The old band is broken, the musicians split from the singer. So I'm left holding the core of a great band in my hand. But I can't bring myself to begin doing anything with it.
Part of it is a fear that maybe I'll never write as well as I did with my old partner. I thought we hit something pretty true to the soul. A follow-up seems feeble.
But on the other hand, something tells me I can write better...If I could just make myself pick up an instrument. It's there, I've seen glimpses of something good. I'm certainly not exhausted of ideas. At the moment I'm probably just exhausted of inspiration.
We've got a line of people asking to work with us, that tells me I shouldn't sit too long on this before I create something. I have to ask what it's all worth sometimes. I put every minute and ounce of heart into trying to create something bigger than me, something bigger than the 5 guys I play with, something that will outlast our existence. No matter how amazing this last attempt was, I don't know that it will ever reach more than a few people. I know it's great, those who have heard it and understand it, know it's great, but I think it's dead at this point.
So when I start from (almost) scratch, who really cares? Why don't I just sit on my ass and play video games to bide my time? Or start watching sitcoms or reality shows or some shit like that. There are plenty of nice suburban activites that really take minimal effort, and practically zero creativity. I could coast by and get fat. It almost sounds appealing. I could even waste my time on the internet, writing blogs that noone will read, simply cause I don't tell anyone it exists. Not sure why.
Maybe it's because music is such a personal thing to me, and it's always under scrutiny. Someone is always poised to trash the thing most closely connected to your true being. Maybe I don't need that one other expression left open to the same vultures. Thing is, I don't even care about the vultures. They're not even on the same level.
I've been lost the past few days. I'm not in my pocket right now. I'm bad at starting things. That's the hardest part.
Part of it is a fear that maybe I'll never write as well as I did with my old partner. I thought we hit something pretty true to the soul. A follow-up seems feeble.
But on the other hand, something tells me I can write better...If I could just make myself pick up an instrument. It's there, I've seen glimpses of something good. I'm certainly not exhausted of ideas. At the moment I'm probably just exhausted of inspiration.
We've got a line of people asking to work with us, that tells me I shouldn't sit too long on this before I create something. I have to ask what it's all worth sometimes. I put every minute and ounce of heart into trying to create something bigger than me, something bigger than the 5 guys I play with, something that will outlast our existence. No matter how amazing this last attempt was, I don't know that it will ever reach more than a few people. I know it's great, those who have heard it and understand it, know it's great, but I think it's dead at this point.
So when I start from (almost) scratch, who really cares? Why don't I just sit on my ass and play video games to bide my time? Or start watching sitcoms or reality shows or some shit like that. There are plenty of nice suburban activites that really take minimal effort, and practically zero creativity. I could coast by and get fat. It almost sounds appealing. I could even waste my time on the internet, writing blogs that noone will read, simply cause I don't tell anyone it exists. Not sure why.
Maybe it's because music is such a personal thing to me, and it's always under scrutiny. Someone is always poised to trash the thing most closely connected to your true being. Maybe I don't need that one other expression left open to the same vultures. Thing is, I don't even care about the vultures. They're not even on the same level.
I've been lost the past few days. I'm not in my pocket right now. I'm bad at starting things. That's the hardest part.
posted by Charles Junk at 8:34 PM
1 Comments:
I read them.
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