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September 7, 2003
I know, I know. In the words of America (the band, not the country), "I've been one poor correspondent/I've been too, too hard to find." Don't kill me. My unfinished songs feel the same way you do.
This summer whipped by in a blur that made my head want to spin right off of my body. Why the frenzy? I've been doing a lot of work for a magazine called Music Alive!
(Yes, it's exciting, but the exclamation point is actually part of the title.) It's an educational music magazine for 10- to 15-year olds, and this is not your father's classroom material, if you know what I mean. The whole point of the magazine is to "reach kids, then teach them" through feature articles about artists they already know and love. So far, this newest involvement feels both noble and bizarre. Noble because anything that gets kids excited about music -- and maybe even inspires them to try making music themselves -- in this era of slashed arts funding feels vitally important. And bizarre because I now listen to songs on the Billboard Top 20 all the time. Whew.
Anyway, happy September, the month of corduroy, sharp new pencils, crisp air, and beautiful colors. And I'll see you (and my piano bench) again real soon.
June 1, 2003
I have to clear a couple of things up.
Number one: No, I have never been in prison. Number two: No, I have never lived with an undertaker.
I know it's tempting to think that songwriters put completely autobiographical stuff into their songs. I've been succombing to that temptation ever since I was a teenager, which is what allows me to feel that I see right into James Taylor's soul. (I do. Really.) But the reality, of course, is that many songs are about people other than the songwriter, or even about imagined things or people.
So if you're wondering about what "Innocent" and "So They May Rise" reveal about me, don't worry.
You know what else? Though both of those songs have dark aspects, both of them fill me with excitement because they gave me a brief glimmer of what it's like to have a literary imagination. A tiny taste of what novelists must feel when they are creating and developing characters. Is there a piece of me in my characters and vice versa? Sure. I know what it's like to feel unfairly perceived, and trapped. I know what it's like to be profoundly inspired by the deeds of someone I know at close range. That's the level where those lyrics meld into me.
Oh, and by the way...Number three: No, I'm not even thinking of writing a novel.
March 27, 2003
A number of people have asked me about the title of the new CD, The World We Knew, assuming that it's a reference to 9/11. I realize that just starting a conversation about "the world" these days is very loaded because our world, and how we feel in it, has changed radically in the last 18 months. Actually, I came up with the title before 9/11, in the summer of 2001.
I was looking over the songs I knew would be going on the album and I realized that they represented a period of time that encompassed difficult transitions, a couple of losses and a lot of hard-won growth. As I looked back, I saw that the writing of these songs had helped me bookend that period and move beyond it. I recognized that the songs were written from a challenged, changing place. That was my point of view; that was the world I knew.
Though it seems ironic now in the face of what's happening in our world, I'm in a new place now-a place where I feel a lot freer and more vibrant.
Even if the title doesn't reference our global condition, I think there's something universal there. Each of us knows how it feels to go through transitions, whether they're personal, professional, physical, emotional, or spiritual. One important thing in our lives can shift and it's as if the whole world has changed in a single moment. And standing in that new moment, we can finally look back with clarity and see the world we knew.
But, you know, whatever way the CD might resonate for you, I’ll be
gratified just to know that it did. Email me and let me know.
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