When I first began to play guitar, I was no different than anyone else; I wanted to learn to play the standard tunes and slowly graduate to lightening fast intensity. But that approach didn’t last. Eventually, I relaxed, put aside the tablature and began to just play. And that’s when I really found myself in the instrument. If you’ve read my bio (or suffered through it, perhaps I should say), then you know that, ironically, I went through the same progression with the saxophone–first learning to play the instrument, then to read music (for years and years), then turning towards jazz and improvisation, where I really found myself as a player. Well, I guess I never learn, because, when I began writing music I went through the same progression–yet again!

When I went back and listened to my first creations, I was elated (at the fact that I had actually written something), but I was also bothered by how simple my music was. I knew I was a better player than what was ending up on tape or in my songs, and that bothered me. But, in the end, I had so much reverence for the process of songwriting, that when a song “came to me,” I just left it alone. Each time I caught myself trying to sneak back in to complicate things by beefing up chord progressions or melodies, I would stop myself. In some strange way, I really didn’t feel like I had the right to change a song that just popped into my head; nor did I, in some ways, feel like I could take the credit for it. (There’s your weird artistic statement for the day. Now go barf.) But as I came closer to the point of sharing my tunes, I was once again bothered by the fact that I might be perceived as a terrible player, or a pitiful songwriter. I mean, what were people going to think or say when they heard me singing over three chords? (Ever heard “He Can”?)

I think this is where the brick wall comes in for a lot of artists–music and otherwise. When you’re more concerned with impressing yourself and others, it’s easy to lose sight of the underlying essence. It’s kind of like the “can’t see the forest for the trees” theory. In my writing career (like writing/writing, as in words) I’ve known plenty of people who could be great writers, if they would only put down the thesaurus, stop trying to impress everyone with a robust vocabulary, and let style and purpose outweigh their flawless grammar. It’s just impossible to think about all these things while producing a work of art. In my opinion, too much thinking equals not enough feeling; and not enough feeling produces souless music. And no, “souless” is not a word, so put down your dictionary. Today, we’re just going to write it how it comes out.