The Gift

Got a present from Russ today.

It was an hour's song writing lesson with Wille Edwards from these guys:https://www.willeandthebandits.com/

They're pretty amazing, and it was too; Wille was unbelievably generous and helpful. One phrase stuck with me;
'Get on with it!' He said, smiling.

Music is a strange thing for me. It can never be background. Nor can I enter the flow of it and write through it. I can play it, be in that place, and take the images/feelings in my head forward into the silence and blank screen where I do my work. But wherever music is, I focus on it or I must leave its presence, because it overwhelms everything else. Supermarket music drives me insane, like some stupefying hypnotic trick designed to make me buy dozens of tins of on-sale rubbish just so I can get the hell out ASAP.

My father loved music, in fact, he loved all sound. He would have sound in every part of our house, TV in the front room, radio in the kitchen, TV elsewhere, radio elsewhere, the record player on... The babble would wipe me out. When I first moved out, the one thing I didn't have was sound. I needed quiet. I needed quiet for years.

To this day music moves me to response, for good or ill I can't ignore it. And I love it, I realise. Like a lot of things/people I love, I am capable of forgetting for a while... But only a while. It all comes back and it never dies; awful in some aspects of life, wonderful with music.

There's nothing to these little snippets that turn up in my head, but exploring them has got to be good for me. I need to finish my work and start playing again. Or balance the two. God, why am I so bad at finding a centre and staying there?


Not that it matters. I refuse to pull down today. Everything feels great!