Being
a musician is a challenging path.
Now
It is equally difficult to be alien.
When
you’re both an alien and a musician, you do the math. Twice the gripe it is.
No,
my musicianship won’t disappear. But it could use a good realignment and retooling,
sharpened for accuracy.
Let
me guide you as to what I think it is, by looking at what it is not.
It
is not mainly for sustenance and income. Financial rewards are always a bonus.
I have a day job to get my basic needs going, and in the process fund my
endeavors with music.
It
is not to entertain, but aimed towards communication. I may be entertaining to
an extent, but I primarily play to tell stories. Those who don’t get should.
That’s why bettering the craft is an ongoing pursuit.
Music
is my language - a complex and sensitive one- but is never above the message.
I
want it to reach to the inner listener. It may come initially as a form of
entertainment, but my goal is to communicate.
What
is my message? It is that It is by grace to be alive and dynamic. That is,
both spiritually and physically. To be alive is to be able to respond and
contribute, rather than being reactive. Here is a true account:
I play while my gums throb
because of an abscessed tooth. My music has no choice but to relay the pain of
an undying throbbing which ticks like a never-exploding bomb. Now,
communicating discomfort and pain doesn’t have to mean sounding sloppy or
stepping on the wah and making crying noises in your instrument. I may approach
it with a busy line as if I am attacking the source of the pain and go
(mentally), “Take that, you abscessed tooth you!”. Or I may opt to do a
monotonic phrase to tell everyone, “It’s hard to fight back, look at what it
does to me. These flatlines are staying this way until the mefenamic acid kicks
in”.
Music is not my
life. Inversely, my music exists because I live. It will serve the purpose of
carrying my stories across.
That’s why I
refuse to be defined by genres and movements and inventions of man.
What are some
of man’s inventions?
- This is camp rock, only horned salutes allowed.
- That’s too unjazz. Like, it ain’t cool bro.
- No countermelodies and sympathetic strings? Blasphemy!
- A three minute island-riddim’ song to sell shampoo, that’s what we need.
- 10 minute epic songs for radio? Look, we don’t need another Geddy Lee.
- C’mon - that’s two 45-min. sets while they’re on dinner and no one’s listening for (insert talent fee here). Can’t get any better than that, huh?
And
my favorite:
- Music - it’s the only gift I have. I can’t imagine what I’d be if one morning I’d wake up amputated/deaf/immobile. (That is, if you wake up at all).
We are defined
by the Creator. Not by any of His creations.
The world is
now noisier. This small storyteller may need to step on the breaks soon and see
the bleakness engulfing at an alarming rate. Perhaps we are no longer able to
compete with the deluge of noise straight from the cyberspace to the earbuds,
at unbelievable speeds.
Herald is a word apt - one who
brings the message to the receiving end. In comicdom, a certain Norrin Radd had
to take the role to save his planet Zenn-la from the cosmic planet-eater,
Galactus. In doing so, Radd forsook his identity forever. As the Silver Surfer,
the pursuit for consumable planets for his master is unceasing. It is tiring,
but it has become him. There was no Radd to revert to, and no Zenn-la to go
home to.
We may not be
saving planets, but to an extent we all carry messages. We will see each other
there, when we get there. If, we ever get there.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the characters and illustrations of the Silver Surfer and the Watcher. The illustration belongs to its rightful owners, and is shared for reference and information purposes only.
