I woke up groggy this morning. The time change always does that to me. We went to bed at 9:30, but my body thought it was 8:30, so within 20 minutes I was back upstairs listening to music. Thankfully, the dogs woke up at what they thought was the normal time this morning, which meant I got to sleep-in a bit.
We always take a long walk first thing. Today was like most days this time of year: sunny, dry, 22 degrees. That sounds cold but it doesn’t feel cold. There’s very little moisture and the sun is so hot that I only had to wear a thin winter coat and a hat I took off 10 minutes into our walk. The moon was hanging over the Sangres this morning, and the snow that fell last week is nearly gone on the floor of the valley, so spring is in the air. When we got home 45 minutes later, a large Robin was hopping around the aspen tree by our front door. She’s the first of the season looking for a place for her nest. I couldn’t help but feel the thrill of hope that comes with her. Maybe she’ll make her nest in our aspen? I could swear she’s the same bird who was here last year. Is that possible? I wish I knew.
Last week I wrote about my 40-day experiment to let go of my dreams of making it in the music business. Let me say right off the bat that I’ve abandoned it. No harm done, but I’ve found it nearly impossible to do.
One comment on my blog helped me to refine my thinking. The author said, “You already have a legacy, Bar, do whatever you want.” What a nice thing to say.
But what’s the answer to doing whatever I want? The answer has been clear for years but I’ve never acted on it: I want to work with a producer who understands what my voice is capable of. To date, I’ve produced every recording I’ve done. There’s been plenty of help along the way, but there hasn’t been a person whose job it is to oversee the project, give advice, help pick songs, hire musicians, and push me to do even more with my voice. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very proud of my recordings. There are things I would have done differently, of course, and elements I’m not as proud of, but I feel good about what I’ve created. I’ve also known that my songs are one thing, and my voice is another.
My songs are my Art. They’re poetry or canvas. They’re the world according to Bar, and not written for other singers to sing. They’re quirky and don’t give me opportunities to use my voice in directions I know it can go. In other words, my voice can do more than my songs allow. This is not a criticism. It’s just true.
So my friend’s comment clarified the one dream I have that I don’t ever want to give up on: to do a recording that features my voice, and which involves an exceptional producer.
An uncle of mine told me at the beginning of my career that I should throw my line out often, like a fisherman, and see what I can catch. I didn’t listen too well. I’ve spent more time working alone than asking for help when I’ve needed or wanted to. I’m excited to change my approach.
I’ll keep you posted.
PS Later today I realized the title for this should have been "Experiment Abandoned." It has a more hopeful ring to it!