The scary part of going it alone
I have a confession. Last night I spent some time practicing "Bait & Switch" for upcoming shows. It's been almost 10 years since I played out. I'm older and wiser. And even though I'm a better musician, vocalist, songwriter and music producer, it doesn't mean I'm a better showman. My experience has made me a very harsh critic. I admit, having fun with music can be challenging sometimes.
The desire is there, but somehow my skill level forbids it. Maybe the cliche, "If you don't use it, you lose it" has finally realized itself. On the other hand, Michael Jackson worked like a dog. And if I haven't practiced show biz in 9 years, then, I should take it easy on myself, right? It should be like riding a bike. If you haven't been on a bike in 9 years, you're probably pretty bad on a bike. Yesterday, I needed training wheels.
Here's where I'm headed with this blog. You see the scary thing about going it alone is, you're actually going it alone. Since there's no band, all of those little vulnerabilities I could bury with some quick witted humor are in complete view of the audience. You can't pin the blame on someone with a quick look. You can't pick on the drummer. And I can't blame Walt for throwing out a clunker on the bass. Those days are gone. I'm on my own now. I if I mess up, its my mistake. And if I can't get over it quickly, I'll lose my place in the song, and the mistake will propagate for the rest of the songs, unless divine intervention happens.
Likewise, making this album, from songwriting to final distribution has been a very open and honest conversation with that little voice inside my head and the vulnerabilities that come with it. And every time I think I'm done with a song, that little voice say's, "Do this. Do that. Keep going. You're doing this. Embrace it." Believe it or not, my subconscious mind is actually encouraging me to keep writing, exploring every possible influence I grew up with.
The critic shows up when I'm pretending, or giving it less effort than I should. Those damned voices in my head. Sometimes I think I'd be better as the dishwasher at Peg Leg Pete's. But I need the critic in my head, as much as I need that little kid voice. There's no way around they work better as a team.
But as vulnerable and shy as I feel right now, please know that I've done the best I can do on my own to bring you the most unique sounding music as I can. I'm so ever humble and grateful that you enjoy it. Thanks for the downloads, and the encouraging words. They mean the world to me.
Especially now, when I'm going it alone and feel the most vulnerable. Your words pick me up, and I don't feel as alone anymore. Thanks, friend.