Electronic musical instrument?

It's absurd to think that “electronic music” is taking the place of instrumentalists, and that it is not much different than that of playing a video game, (as if the electronic world is nothing more than plug and play sounds.) If sound reaction is truly what we are supposed to be after as musicians than how can we stop that search from an organic growth in the digital realm? It’s not that I am saying the sounds we find through traditional analog instruments is at its limits, I’d just say that the electronic world seems to be adding an infinite view to this notion. I would test the musician that says electronic music is no more than “pops and squeaks” to be aware of his/her own hypocrisy in finding sound possibilities that evoke things out of us. Not licks, sound! What then is the musical search ultimately? Is it popularity? Culture? Story telling? All of those things are great in the scheme of making music, but it does always come down to a sound. Just how moved we are by film scores. Turn off the music- few tears. Turn on the music- gushing tears. Music is something that evokes “Godliness” inside of us. We cannot explain it (yet), and we’d rather not. But as music-artists, how much of our search is related to sound or vibration study, and how much is just recycling the same old shit in the name of tradition, trend, acceptance, etc. I’d say that all those who pay homage to eras of music are no more than conservation societies. I have a difficult time calling that work “art” in any way. Except to give them the notion of expression as art; like how a concert pianist interprets a Beethoven sonata, etc. But as far as those writing, improvising, etc., the most important thing will always be sound. In essence that is how pop music disguises its regurgitation. Even I enjoy a good techno tune, or a band that decides to mish mash the amp frequencies, but play the same four chords. Truth is I have no problem with any of these notions, including a 50’s music society. I do however have an issue with un-evolved artistic views verging on hypocrisy. One day people thought what Ray Charles was doing was blasphemous as well as absurd. He now will always be an artistic national treasure. I am sure the first caveman to paint on walls was hailed as crazy, yet we preserve those paintings now with passion. And Van Gogh… I think the pattern is clear. As for my choice, I ‘d like to believe I would be of the few appreciating Van Gogh while he was still working.

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On my break from working a Broadway two show day I couldn’t figure out what I could do to kill the 3 hours in between shows. After doing some reading (about salesman if you’d believe it) I decided to grab a plate from a local NYC deli and get an espresso. The espresso will definitely help with my sagging physical energy, but not much more than that. Upon entering the deli a typical New York scene occurred. A man asked if I could get him something to eat. My knee jerk was an instant no. As I wandered around deciding what to eat self disgust came over me. The image of the man on the ouside in the cold looking in at the abundant buffet was all too familiar. How many times have I been “there.” The outside looking in while no one cared about my despair. And yes, it has been for food as well in the past. I paced around the deli thinking what if I let this man pick anything he wanted (within reason) from the deli. What if I asked about his life and despair? What if I treated another human being like a human being regardless of my shallow fear of being duped- which is of course absurd and a fear all of us drum up to substantiate the greed we are all used to. In a minute I saw no downside. I went back outside and asked the man questions about his day and life. What was he going through? Why is he begging? What was his past like? How did he end up here? He answered all of this with what I felt was an undeniable integrity, but I will keep the stories between us. I drew parallels to my own life- regret, failure, isolation, and hunger. To be frank, we can all draw parallels to our lives. It doesn’t matter if the man was just lazy or didn’t mind begging as opposed to working. I am not a judge. How hopeless have all of us been at times? How much do we want to believe that help and compassion exists from strangers? I suppose I needed to make that true.

Help does exist. Man shares everything with each other. I needed to believe that something “real” exists under the bright lights of time square. I needed to know I was capable of creating this “real”. I need to remember that we all could create this “real.” How? If we simply choose to. I know that a dollar given is two in return.

There is no colder city than New York. People so close to each other yet as far away as a neighboring planet. I just needed to believe again. I needed to believe there is more than the man made lights of Broadway. So I made it so. That is the only way I am different than anyone.