I have recovered from my grueling pace road trip to Cleveland. It is now time to begin writing again. It was suggested to me that I should write about music so here goes.
My taste in music is all over the board. I don’t fit neatly anywhere, only hard and fast rule is that I don’t particularly like the Hip Hops or the rappings. Sorry not sorry. I’ll just give you a sample of my youtube “recently played” playlist so you get an idea:
I guess I like music with guitars, synth music, and Korean girl pop bands. Something is wrong with me.
I used to be active in several original bands before I got married, and not a day goes by where I don’t think about what it was to create and perform. I played in an aggressive metal band (gets boring real fast) and then in an indie band and a post-rock band. It is my work in the post-rock band that I’m most proud of. I was playing music (didn’t write it, unfortunately) that I still listen to on my own here in my cubicle dungeon. I would post it for you but then you’d know who I was and we don’t want that.
I sold all most all of my gear and instruments after I got married and our children started to arrive. Things change.I don’t regret my decision to get married or to my two little kaijus, but I do still miss being a part of something into which I could put my creative energy. Bringing this up because I’ve recently started playing every few weeks with another guy who is in a similar situation to me. He is married, has a small child, and used to play in bands in his younger years (he’s about 10 years older than me). I bring over my guitar gear and we play in his basement for a few hours. He has a pretty nice setup with drums and a lot of recording gear.
Coming from a 4 piece band that was perfectly in sync to some random jamming in a basement is a jarring contrast. Everytime I leave a music session I can’t help but feel empty about the whole thing. What I want, and what is doable given where I am in life are not compatible. It’s like being a recovering alcoholic who thinks he can just have a beer every month and that will be enough. It’s never enough.
When I left my previous life behind I never expected to be this restless. Maybe it’s the lack of stimulation at my current place of employment, or just that my children are still young and everything is stressful. I don’t know. Dreams are dreams. Most of them aren’t realistic and I know that, but knowing that doesn’t make watching them die any less painful.