From transcriptions to compositions
There are some fundamental practices that come easy in music and some that we like to avoid. I can sit for hours on end and practice exercises in technique. When I do, I undoubtedly come up with a catchy lick, melody, or concept that turns into a song. I enjoy stopping everything and running with my ideas. However, ask me to transcribe a guitar solo and learn to play it note for note and I suddenly get bogged down with procrastination. Nonetheless, I find the things I avoid like transcription and using a metronome, feed my inclination to compose and create. We all have work to do on what we are avoiding.
As I wait out the time to move I practiced many exercises on technique, transcribed fewer solos, and composed some pieces to put together with 2 minute videos I’d captured or produced. It’s hard sometimes to “do what you came here to do” when your mind is swayed by multiple sources at once. However, I have found that creating a piece from scratch is never as daunting as it might seem. The past and future is always intruding on the present with suggestions. If I quiet my mind too much, I stand a chance of inducing my own writer’s block. Early in my career as a psychotherapist someone once said, “How do you know where to begin? I could never do what you do.” Its all about content and process. Take what you’ve learned, copy someone who came before, know where you want to go, and dive in!
When I’m creating, my mind is inundated with ideas. Some are suggestions from others like: “Only write about what you know”'; “Make it meaningful”; “Don’t appropriate someone else’s culture”. Of course, there’s another category of past admonitions that float up like: “Find a catchy lick or hook and base the song around that”; “Write a pop song because more people will listen to it”; “Don’t put your own quirky/artistic ideas in it because it won’t sell”. So much of what I think I’ve come here to do is mixed in with what others want or have wanted me to do. Discerning how to stay true to myself is hard.
I decided to dive in last fall and begin some compositions and arrangements to help me begin the process of discovering what I want to do with music. I do know I’d like to be an artist. Two of the more artistic pieces I put together were arrangements of jazz standards set to original video animations. In The Bluest Monk and Cantaloupe Island Holiday, I wanted to say something about colonialism and how we can’t escape creating in the context of it. The crying Thelonious Monk, in the Bluest Monk, reminds me what I used to tell my clients all the time. That is, “While we can learn from trauma and even be stronger because of the weak places, there are other ways to learn and fortify ourselves without so much pain.” Cantaloupe Island Holiday reminds me of the slippery slope we are on when under the influence of demagogy and fear of being caste out of our place in society for having original ideas or not just going along with bad ones.
I was told 30 years ago I’d never make any money as a psychotherapist and while everyone has been polite about my decision to pivot to music full time, I know they are thinking the same. The fortunate thing is, that’s not my goal. I do want to write meaningful pieces, play my instrument, be artistic, and make a living. At the end of the day having choices makes me a sovereign creator. That’s not a bad way to go!
