Ill just write the song for this reading at Easter, I said to myself. I havent done that for awhile. The song is all in my head. It literally popped in there as I read the text. It cant be that difficult to get it on paper. I just remember it as laborious. It wasnt actually difficult, I reasoned as I began writing down the notes from my head. Over one month later, I am editing music on a Saturday night. Im not sure what I planned to get out of this. Did I think composing would be worth something more than the use of the music itself? That I would find some incredible satisfaction in the act of composing? Did I think somebody would be amazed at my ability to recognize I, IV and V chords, extend more interestingly beyond them, and write them for a choir? I dont know. I just kept writing things, changing time signatures as I saw fit, and making myself slowly go crazy. If composition is my next phase in musical maturity, I might have to invest in mental health moments. Exercise might have to be increased. Or spa days. And yet, I love this stuff. I love forgetting to look at the clock because I am busy creating. One day, creation will be more of my life again. What a terrific feeling... until Im editing music on a Saturday night....
Posted on: Sun, 06 Apr 2014 02:01:21 +0000
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