keskiviikko 27. kesäkuuta 2012

I tried.... I tried!

Just yesterday I decided to do a simple experiment on myself. I decided to live four days, simply lying dead. Not creating a single thing. My goal was to spend four days without writing lyrics, drawing pictures or making any songs. After about four hours, when my friends left home and I was left alone with my whirlpool of imagination and time, things started to get rough. I was making some coffee, and accidentally hit an empty soda can. There happened to be some fluid at the bottom, and it made that funny, ringing sound. I collected five empty cans, filled them with differing amounts of water, and in just few seconds I had my own, custom-made out of tune drumset. I vaguely remembered my experiment, but it was too late already. I took and empty trash can from the bathroom, and started recording some sort of roots/blues/captain beefheart/whatever song (You can hear it here). I decided to start the experiment today, but my mistake was to leave everything on the table, ready to be recorded. Today I made another song, an instrumental one. Why is it so hard for me Not to do a thing?

I believe when it comes to music, images and writing, I am an existentialist. I define myself through my work. Not as achievements that would ensure my value or social status in the eyes of other mortals, not through all the money I get (because I get none). My work is so important to me, because it is always reflective, it is always personal, as deep as it possibly can. It goes through all the bullshit, it is honestly me as vulnerable as I can get, and free to do anything. The power of sounds alone is enough. I must see what other things will be channeled through my fingers, through my heart and spirit. I can't say that they would come from my head, because I can not thing while I compose. I can't even say that I'd actually even compose. These things just flow through me. I don't make them, I am just an obstacle on their path to this world.  I don't know why they come through me, maybe because I'm always open, my antennas up like some gigantic ant.

This work helps me build an image of myself. It helps me see me from the outside, because I can not feel proud for my music. I'm as much outsider to it as anyone else. I can discuss about the manners or patterns, that seem to repeat themselves in the music I have let out, but when I listen to it, I can't imagine these kind of things would be made by Moi. They indeed are sounds that please my ear, they are important to me, because they are some sort of Jungian way of analyzing my own psyche, my subconscious that seems to take interesting forms when it is given the freedom to do anything it wants. I'm just happy it's this instead of burning stuff. There's always some sort of existence of fire in my songs, that's what I see in my head as I play, just images of fire, or sometimes water, which has started to occur just lately, and has aroused my curiosity. Where does this water come from, what is it's purpose in my creative work? The fire has always been some sort of rebellious, cleansing or destructive essence, depending on what sort of music am I working on. Instrumental music is always more interesting to create, but some songs write their own words and then I just let them come out. Tom Waits has compared writing songs to hunting birds or picking up potatoes. I believe he's right. I've written over a hundred songs, and although I may decide "Now I am going to write a song" and I usually end up with one, I can't say it is the same song I heard in my head when I decided to write one. They just give me something out of the bag, and that's what I start to forge, sometimes it's a sword, sometimes it's a plow.

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