Be set free to sing or hum along

I shared a new song this week. The link is shared below this post.

As I open my new-age electronic notebook to write this morning, I feel weary. I have had plenty of rest. I have had plenty to eat. Last night was not brimming over with frivolous shenanigans. My friend, Ryan, would ask me what I have been eating. Likely a good question. Nonetheless. At least for this morning, I am limping a little bit.

Over the last few days, I have listened to a one-time acquaintance discuss the nature of music and art via the magic of democratized television. Somehow, these discussions and the ideas they carry and offer found me. As I listened in, I knew that I needed them. I sent an overly verbose “thank you”. This is a thing I do.

This is an idea, a truth, of which I want to take hold and cleave to as for dear life. Perhaps for dear life describes it best. This seems an oddity to me, even though I cannot help but write something about presses upon me that I do not value these expressions nearly highly enough. Guilty.

I shared a new song this week by way of the internet airwaves. I refuse to bemoan the state of modern music. That I can write and share a song with whomever wishes to listen wherever in the world they happen to be does not cease to astound me.

This morning, I spent a little time digging into statements on the phrase “Art for art’s sake”. What a treasure trove of deep encouragement. Below are a few that sang to me.

“Art is not what you see, but what you make others see.” – Edgar Degas

“I found I could say things with color and shapes that I couldn’t say any other way – things I had no words for.” – Georgia O’Keefe

“The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls.” – Pablo Picasso

I shared a new song this week. Check it out if you are so inclined. If you wish to play along, join for the joy of it, or practice your improvisational noodling, I am playing it here in F major.

Links: Spotify | Apple | Amazon | Pandora | etc.

I have promised myself, and friends, that I would re-learn the habit of sharing songs. When I was good at sharing songs, the world was a wildly different place. This is interesting to think about. Recently, I have found myself so very weary of listening to YouTubers my age go on and on about how the music business has changed, bemoaning the days of yesteryear when only an artist or band for whom all of the stars aligned as the right talent scout happened into the right club at the perfect moment to hear this perfect flower of an artist, or collection of them, who as it so happened were at the perfect age for capturing, packaging, and selling to the masses.

In those days, studio gear was out of reach for the mass of musicians, and songwriters. In those days you had gatekeepers. In those days, the gatekeepers had gatekeepers. There were layers of those people.

Sharing songs in those days for me was to invite a friend or two to come hang out on the front porch of 1908 South 8th Street or some unexpecting piano I would descend upon with all the loving key-pounding enthusiasm of my younger self. I would set upon sharing the most recent of the songs that had sprung from my lungs and fingers.

I get it. The route used to be so easy to see, the route to the life that music would pay one to live. I suppose that route may not be completely closed. Who knows? I do not.

What I do know is that today, any tunesmith or musician or collection of them, can in their spare rooms and basements can now create in ways the greats, pick your favorite, could not. What freedom! What joy! Seriously.

I intentionally remind myself frequently that I started writing and singing songs purely for the love of songs, for the love of melody. In the past couple of years, I have sought to lean into making and sharing music in whatever ways I am able.

In that spirit, here is Party at the End of the Line. I wrote this tune driving home from work on a day when a fellow employee through me under the proverbial bus. I believe it was undeserved. I believe it was known to all or most that it was undeserved. It does not matter. It matters not a whit.

There are a couple of versions. If you want the first run iPhone recording, that is just below (the video with the banjo picture).

If you want the version with just a touch more polish, check out the 2nd version further down below the song notes.

If this content does not play on your browser, here is the direct YouTube link.

Song notes:
My dear, sweet bride gave me a banjo several years ago. She knows that I love to have and play on an instrument where I am somewhat lost. I wrote this tune some years ago on the guitar. As I was practicing, noodling, on my banjo; I wrote the little instrumental intro part. Then so that I could share it with a musical companion, I recorded the song on my phone. I hope to record it again soon in the studio. But for now, I share it as it is, or was, yesterday when I put it down to share with a few friends. The musically astute may notice me trying to manage to play this somewhat still foreign-to-me instrument as I also seek to recall all the words in the proper order. Is no matter. If you want to play and sing along on your favorite instrument, I am playing in G Major.

If this content does not play on your browser, here is the direct YouTube link.

Want to be in the know when the somewhat sporadic postings and singing of new and old songs happen? Join my email list. I will not share your information or be in any way uncool with it.

This past Friday, I shared Abilene with any who may wish to come near enough to listen. Sharing songs at this point in my life has been quite an unexpected experience for me, nothing short of joy-filled.

Truth be told, I have always wrestled with what to do with the songs. Surely that cannot sound completely foreign to at least some. I have written them for almost as long as I can recall. Some are better than others. All have brought me joy in their first moments. All have brought me joy and comfort along my little track across this big, beautiful ball of life as it hurls its way through space and time.

Who are they for? What are they worth? Does anyone really need to hear me sing a song? Is what I have to say all that important? Were it not for my little family, my dear friends grafted-in like family, my new-found tribe of sister and brother Crows; I likely would not be sharing them now.

Oddly, in retrospect not surprisingly, learning to appreciate and love my community has been key to encouraging me, spurring me, out of my songster hermit’s hideaway. Surely, I will say this again and again as I remind my too often timid heart; the songs are gifts to me, but they are not for me only.

I suppose that is enough peeking inside for this moment. Enjoy Abilene if you wish to make it digitally spin. The lovely electric guitar work is my dear friend Mike Bauer. Mike has given the gifted so many in our little hamlet with his outstanding guitar teaching. I recommend no guitar teacher more highly – https://www.nashvilleguitaracademy.com/. The groovy backing vocals are Kristin Bauer. Dear friends and wonderful musicians. Is always a joy for me making music with Mike and Kristin.

If you are humming, harping, or playing along; I am playing in D Major.