I'm in the midst of a couple days worth of rehearsals with Ethan Norman and Nate Sharpe to get ready for the New Years Eve show at the V Cafe. It's interesting that anything should ever get done when we spend so much time feeling like our endeavors burst at the most carefully woven seams. We've all had to work around work and fight with schedules to cram a few stolen moments of practice in, hoping for a sonorous miracle come Monday. Hoping that, should old acquaintance be forgot, we will be able to recollect through the weaving of sound.
The album that I've been working on is now being munched by a vicious lull. My friend and producer Nathan Head is as frustrated as I am, as we wait on a new computer that can handle the processing. Such is the manner of a strictly budgeted life. I feel a strange conflict when praying for Nathan to get new equipment. The truth is, I feel like my prayers in this are totally selfish. But then, it usually seems to me that most everyone's art is, in some respect, God-breathed, since it is (presumably), at the very least, an honest expression of some part of the artist's heart. Everyone, that is, except me. This is the blessing and the curse of being human. My mind can break down and analyze until I'm blue in the face, but my heart can never bend 'round to look at itself. So I'm left to my faith and my guesses as to whether it's right to pray for this or not. Here's the thing: I sometimes do it anyway.
I want so badly to get back in the studio and work and finish what I've started. I've gotten so many ideas in this off time. I have pictures I want you to hear, and sounds I want you to see. This quite different than last time. Last time, it was more about me. Now, it feels more about us. And then some that's not about us.
Come out to the show anyhow. Come get a taste of it with us. I'll see you circa '08.