Journey, the new CD, is finished. I left Dave Cook, the engineer, in his studio about an hour ago. I love being in his space. I love working closely with him; listening to every phrase, every note, every pitch, every part, just to be sure we’ve got it as close to what we want as possible. We could keep changing things for days, but at a certain point, it’s time to say: we’re done.
To be honest, I left in a hurry so I wouldn’t cry. When a recording is finished, there’s a part of me that doesn’t want it to be done. The process of writing is so consuming and enjoyable. It’s me alone with me making something out of nothing. With the help of a few trusted friends, I see my imaginings come to life, then poof, it’s done and the rest of the world is invited in. Most don’t know what it took to get to this point. All anyone will here is 34 minutes of music. 11 songs. But behind those songs are years of trying to figure out what needs to be written and how. I lose sleep. I live with the music on my walks in the morning, when I’m eating my meals, when I’m talking with friends. It’s on-going and endless, and I love every minute of it.
Now, others will decide whether they like what they hear or not; whether it means anything to them or not. I want them to like it, of course, but after all these years, I don’t worry about that so much anymore.
I taught a class at the local high school last week about the business of music. We were talking about all the ways a single song can generate revenue. One of the students, a senior, asked me at the end of the hour what motivated me to write. It seemed like he wanted to know because he wanted to write too. I told him some people write to make others dance, some to make money, others to get famous (or rich or loved) but that I wrote because I wanted to understand my self and the world better. As I was answering I welled up because writing has become so important to me. My survival in many ways. I was grateful when I could see that he understood.
So the songs are written. They’re recorded in one of a hundred ways they could have been recorded. The versions I settled on are ready to be duplicated and sold and sent out to anyone who wants to hear them. They represent a little bit of what I’ve felt and seen in the last five years.
I’m sad because another stage of my life is behind me. And I’m happy too, because I love how it’s turned out. Thank you for being part of the journey.