"Accepting the Gifts of the Muse" (Jan. 2011)

Confessions and resolutions on 1-1-11

Tis' the time and season for resolutions. No doubt most wind up in some karmic scrap heap someplace. The laws of physics dictate that energy must be conserved - where it is spent, someplace it must be created - and for every action, there must be an equal and opposite reaction. I am somewhat amused at the possible existence in the universe of a giant heap of anti-resolutions left behind over the millennia by well-intentioned people, but somewhat fearful of the crisis its discovery might provoke.

I usually steer clear of resolutions, preferring instead to somewhat continuously set goals and make task lists that offer some hope for successful completion. I don't advocate that it is a better way, simply a different one. But for 2011 I have made a resolution, and one that I hope to truly honor in this coming year.

I have been, in a word, negligent. For a writer, the gifts of the muse are both holy grail and cursed responsibility. The creativity sparks, the imagination flickers and flames, and thus begins the work of converting energy (an idea) into matter ( a song, poem, essay, etc.).

When I first started out on this life in music in the early 90s I embraced this process. Seduced it whenever I could. Heard it calling to me in the midst of all-encompassing work, or in the transitional moments from lucidity to REM sleep. I faithfully accepted the gifts of the muse, worked them into the musical vignettes and cinematic moments that have become my body of work.

During these past few years that process has slowed to a crawl. Certainly not by intentional neglect, but the slow accumulations of factors. Keeping the bills paid, the shows booked, the publicity done and the various and sundry time-consuming elements of a life in music adds up to three fulltime jobs; being a parent of a little person could at least count for two more. And where I used to enjoy the thrill of writing a song the day of a show and delivering it without mistakes onstage that night, the reality is that with five CDs including over 75 songs, and an average 2-hour show having room for 18 or so, there isn't much space in the set list or urgent need for new material that there was in those early days.

But there's something else blocking the way too. Maybe a little fear, or doubt. I'm pretty happy with many of the songs I've written over the years. And I find that that has gotten in the way; I've set my standards high, and too often I find myself editing while creating - judging the work against what came before, before it has even come out of the creative womb. And there it stops.

And so it is that too often I simply reject the gifts. Pains me to say it, but that's the truth. If I do anything, it is to hastily scratch the ideas on a piece of paper or Word doc and save them away for when I have time to conjure them into reality. I might as well write IOUs on a slip of paper and include that too, or order up a bucket of hope that the idea will still be ready to be born when I come back to it.

I wrote my first new song in over a year in November. I don't know if it's mediocre, good or great, but it feels good in the chest and the belly and the head. While I haven't let the muscles wither completely (I live with a 3-year old, and do make up silly songs on the spot almost continuously), I find both the spark and this confession invigorating. Remembering that excitement, the urge to play a new song 15 times in a row, polishing the rough edges, reworking the phrasing, substituting a chord here and there. It's intoxicating.

So here it is: in 2011, I shall once again honor the muse, whenever and wherever it graces me with a visit. I will not judge until the first draft is complete. I don't need to share it if it doesn't turn out as I like, but I do need to do the work. I will have faith that the essential business of a life in music will get done; when help is needed as it so often is, help will come somehow, someway.

I have so many melodies, lyric snippets, guitar riffs and ideas all running around in my head. What lies ahead is the work of bringing them into order from chaos, clarity from confusion. I will have triumphs and failures. I may not have anything meaningful to share with you for the whole year's worth of effort. But this year it will not be for lack of time and effort.

This I resolve. Happy New Year!

PS See and hear "One More Year (A Farmer's Prayer)" for yourself from a cafe showcase in December 2010; a tried and true theme of a farmer struggling to hold onto his way of life. Thanks to rob hinkal from ilyaimy for dicing it up and posting it on their Ustream site.