Breathing Room

This is a song I wrote and recorded on November 11, 2011 (11/11/11) without audio from a scene in Alphaville.

 11 11 11 by taliea



I've found over my blogging/music-making experience that it is possible for one to commit the flaw of talking too much about one's music.

I always have the urge to explain away why I do a certain thing in music, to try to justify why I wrote a line this way or made the music go that way, or why the hell did I have a French lady talking over some of the prettiest music I've ever made?

I've come to realize that this is proof that I don't trust my own art. If I can't let my music stand by itself, without me behind it, defining it, holding it up like a cripple, then I don't think my music will ever walk on its own into the hearts of listeners, to let them form their own ideas and opinions about it. I'm afraid at points it has almost come to the point where the audience listens to me and my justification of my music rather than the music itself.

I was planning for days how I would write this blog. I had all my arguments planned out, how I would justify my ideas, show my motivation for writing this that way and that the other way. I would write my explications so well that you would have no choice but to agree with me that this is indeed a good piece of impressionistic music, and would yourself look down your nose at people who would so preposterously disagree with me, because they "just don't get the art."

Instead, I refrain. I don't want to choke my music. If the music cannot stand by itself in the world, then perhaps it is not meant to stand. I won't always be able to come to the defense of my art, to be able to explain why this is a good song, and beg you to accept it, despite its minor flaws.
My songs will always stand in my own heart, because I love every piece of music that I write, though they are always far from perfect.

All this to say, this song is a kind of milestone in my music-making career, for reasons that I will explain (probably in a later post, as I am sleep deprived) later. I realize that the song (if you can call it that) is a bit bazaar, and not exactly easy to listen to. But I love it for a couple reasons, mostly having to do with my new approach for music-writing that I used (which I will also explain later).

If you've gotten nothing else from this blog, just understand this: In your own artistic endeavors, after publishing a work, you must be very careful to keep your voice down, because you might be in danger of drowning out the voice of your own art. And history can tell us that Art has the potential to have the most powerful voice of all. It just first needs a little breathing room.

Ambiguity

If I were to sum up my life experience into one word, it would be Ambiguity. Yes, I realize the exact nature of that statement, and how contradictory it sounds. However, I don't believe any other word could suffice.

Perhaps you've experienced the same sensations: the inability to acutely pinpoint any exact attribution of yourself; the incapacity to say "I feel angry," or "I like Sudoku," because you realize that once a statement like that comes by, it demolishes any other possibility for you to become something else, to attribute something completely opposite to yourself. This demolition of possibilities is a prison. It limits oneself to a specific reality, when reality could Really be something quite, quite different.

For example, let's bring God into the issue. (Why not? He pops up in every other issue). If I were to say "Yes, I believe in God" (And even the ambiguity of that statement frustrates me), that would destroy any possibility for me to Not believe in God, for reality to be something completely opposite. And one should most rightfully assume that a belief in God denotes numerous consequences to how one lives one's life, as does a disbelief. One decision, one choice, can determine the entire future of a Decision Maker.

Therefore, I, the Great Decision Maker, make no decisions about anything. The fact that reality can't go both ways sort of terrifies me, frustrates me, and in some sick way, delights me. I get lost in this terrible pool of Ambiguity, where the greater decisions of life get ignored because I simply don't know what to do with them.

I said it delights me, and this is true. Reason being: I am tied down to absolutely nothing in this world. The moment I stick my neck out, saying that something is the way it is, or that I am a certain way that I am, some sort of invisible string attaches me to it forever. If I were to say Bowling Green was my home, I would deprive any other location of being my home. I would be tying myself to this place and calling it mine--- the limiting nature of that concept is terrifying. I would rather be free, a wanderer, I suppose.

The moment I choose a college major is the moment I refuse any other major. I would be tying myself down to a specific point and call it mine. I'd honestly rather not. There are too many points in reality that I want to take on at the exact same time. The idea that I must choose one is terrible. I'd rather stay Ambiguous.

One would argue, and I think they are right, that perhaps that's the whole meaning behind it-- to make strings, to be attached, to find a home, a purpose, a meaning. To stick one's neck out and say that this is true about myself and about you. To make decisions. To love someone, to love one's self, to come to terms with God. Maybe this is the substance of life.

The great philosopher Socrates says, "Know thyself." I wonder if this statement was directed more to people like me, who sort of lost themselves somewhere in that Ambiguous Pool. Perhaps he means for people to conquer their indecision, to make decisions about themselves and about reality, without revisions, without too much speculation. Only with decision can one go forward. It's just difficult when one doesn't know anymore which way is forward and which way is back.

I Cried When I Saw This