I took another giant somersault out of my comfort zone and made my first recording this past July. I say, 'out of the comfort zone', because I am used to live performances. I hunger at the energy of an audience and have referred to myself on many occasions as an audience whore. I use the audience, so the entire recording process has left me speechless for some time. Really, for nearly two months now I have sat down to write about the process and have been left without words. I haven't wanted to access those emotions but rather carry them around with me like a talisman for fear of losing those dear feelings or having that surreal moment of super-focused creativity pass me by, oh how I made friends with them! I also would have to be a fairly adept writer to describe with the writing process this journey into recording, but with my layman abilities, here it goes... I would liken it to being stripped of skin and every artery and vein is exposed and every rise and fall of breath is seen and every trickle of every cell is detectable and every morsel of care for humanity is in the throat and every joy for the wonderment of the great mystery is falling off your lips. You are ripped open and shown. It is at once the essence of being yourself, being heard and all at once there is a pulsating madness flowing out of you, full of expression and then, a longing for quiet, simple perfection. Day after day you show up to the microphone surrendering to the muse and shedding the noise of yourself to the greater light you long to shine through in that tiny window of perfect alignment.
Yeah, it was kind of like that.
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