I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

But Seriously

I can hardly believe I haven't posted since June 17th. That's ridiculous. 

 

I will talk briefly on honesty. Honesty and music (or art, if you prefer the broader title) are quite tied up together. I would say they are in a bear hug. And honesty is the bear. Because sometimes when you're honest, things end up sounding a bit grizzly. 

 

Simply put, whether you are an artist or a musician or a potter or a candle-maker or a writer or whatever you are- it is that creative outlet into which you shout what you're afraid to say. That is my experience anyway. The piano is the almost-perfect companion: it (I daren't call it a she, lest my future wife think herself competing for my affection) is always listening, waiting to be told things; it holds no grudge, and it judges not; it holds no record of mistakes; it responds in proportion to what you give it, hopeful when you need hope, sorrowful when you are grieving, joyful when your heart cannot contain itself. Surely it doesn't compare to having your dearest friend nearby, but when you need to get all the EMOTION out of your system, you can just sit down and let it out. With honesty. No holding back, because why would you? 

 

This all makes sense, right? I mean- very basic stuff here, that I think I've said before. The idea that the piano (or the canvas, or the wheel, or the... wax? or the paper) is always right there waiting for you to destressify. This is quite sensical. (sensical is apparently not a word. I'm recommending we make it a word. You have my permission to use it on Twitter, etc., without giving me credit. It will become commonplace to use it in opposition to nonsensical. I mean... it's such a sensical word.)

 

But this is so interesting, and I've only just sort of figured it out. It would seem (at least in my case, with the piano) that the instrument reveals to you what you're really feeling. You just can't fake things with a piano. You can't sit down on that unforgiving wooden bench with the resolution to create something gloriously joyful while your mind and heart are aching under the dripping cloud of a crushed spirit. No. It just doesn't work! Even if you are a clever one and you know how to play 'happy things', I believe sooner or later in that song, things will go minor. You would have to be a very strong person to keep up such a facade. And so I bring this point up because I thought that I knew exactly how I was feeling tonight. But when I started playing the past couple of days on the piano, my dramatic moodswings sort of bubbled up the surface. I thought it was just such an interesting thing that I must let you hear it.

 

In this particular recording, I wasn't playing for any purpose except to stay awake. I had been doing some heavy reading about 10 minutes prior and found myself drifting off to sleep at only 7:30pm. Not acceptable. So I decided to play the piano to keep myself awake. That always works.

 

I wasn't going to post this at all, because I'm not in the least happy with what I played tonight. It's sloppy and oftentimes too loud and altogether without taste. But I thought- how about being honest with your readers for a change. Now it's as if you were really sitting right next to me tonight. Raw and honest, another 24 minute fly-on-the-wall-ing. Enjoy! 

 

[excuse my dive into the deep end of Chopsticks]

ps

 

Wagon Wheels

My Dad's Just Grand