It was kind of a ‘thing’ for me, committing myself to my music, for better and for worse. That is why I got slightly frustrated when I started noticing that my voice tired quicker and more often, and my throat started hurting after singing and even after conversations and book time with my son. WTF?
If there is one thing I fear when it comes to sharing my work, it is being perceived as ‘boring’. I wrote earlier that I had never really been confident about my guitar skills, and so there always exists this fear of not being enough. Not varied enough, not technically good enough, not interesting enough.
Because they say that being an artist is about 10% inspiration and 90% perspiration (ratios vary depending on whom you ask) (sorry about all these parentheses by the way), it might be a good idea for me to sweat a little, if you know what I mean.
I had heard that name my whole life. I knew him, even though I had never met him. I knew his mother and I loved his sister, who was my aunt Tineke. Joy and I sat together in stunned silence for a few moments, goosebumps on our arms. It seemed almost impossible, but here we were.
Sometimes the veil is thin and we might be able to catch a glimpse of what lies beyond, but more often it appears like a wall and we have no idea what awaits us on the other side. This song reminds me of how important it is to find the courage to take the plunge, and feel.
Because no one needs to hear “it can’t have been that bad” or “don’t you think it’s time to move on?” or “I’m sure you’re imagining things” or, worst of all, any variation of “you had it coming” (including “I told you so”). Because when it comes to heartbreak or despair, we have all been there.
If I stay silent, chances are substantial that almost no one will ever hear anything I do, and however strange it may sound, these songs are meant to be heard. That is why they wanted to exist in the first place. Moreover, they chose me to sing them – in a sense, I owe it to them to do just that.
Words out of my worst nightmare. I’d never done ‘just sounds’. Every song I had ever written before (or since) started with lyrics. Words are what I do, you know. They’re what I know. Just making sounds makes me feel awkward and self-conscious.
It’s just trying to keep us from doing something foolish, like putting ourselves out there and being seen, doing something that actually matters, we could fail. We would fail and we would die of shame. While in fact, IT would die because it would be no match for the love and light we would bring into the world.