From My Echo Chamber to Our Communal Stage
Time to transition my heart and spirit from the deeply disappointing next album production false start and the high enthusiasm of the “Kimiyo” project release to the invigorating vision of the summer festivals tour.
There’s a flowing mix of emotions involved in that mutating shift for me, the most significant one being the collective liberation from the tight restrictive straitjacket we’ve been held in during the 3 weeks our previous recording experiment lasted. It’s particularly exhilarating after what seemed like being dispossessed of our own artistic nature for a while, like being able to widely open the otherwise sealed shutters of our imagination once again, rediscovering the rejuvenating perfumes of spring after what felt like a never-ending winter… It’s good to see the light, to hear the birds, to feel the fresh wind on our faces, to close our eyes and breathe a new season in, to let go without having to worry about any arbitrary form of exterior boundaries, to set ourselves free from the limitations and restrictions imposed to our emancipative instincts… And all for reasons I have never been — never will be — able to understand in the first place. It’s magnificent to witness the floodgate giving way under the benevolent pressure of our emotional stream, of who we are, and of what makes us the uplifting assemblage of chaotic waves that is uniquely reflected in our communal gathering. It comes as no wonder that, only a few minutes into our initial tour preparation togetherness, we ended up writing a new song. You can’t limit the spirit; you have to dispose yourself and let the moment magnify its inspiring presence. There’s no formula to mimic the evolving fluidity of the invisible.
That creative spiritual liberation apart, I guess the most soulful aspect of that transitionary movement for me resides in the act of peacefully standing behind a microphone after 18 months of profound anxiety regarding the future. Would I be able to sing again? Would I have the same vocal flexibility to express myself freely? Would I have the cognitive capacity to remember enough of my songs to dwell on them without having to think? Would I have enough physical energy to live those songs with the same measure of abandonment as I used to do? Would I have the same affective instinct to lead the band in an improvised motion? Would I be able to discern the sensations necessary to guide them, to point them in the right direction? My numerous specialists told me that all the answers resided in my head, that I wasn’t that far-removed physically to get back into the current without having to worry about anything else but to seriously pace myself (that might be a problem right there…!) They said that most of my hesitations, my doubts, and my insecurities were mostly psychological, and therefore the most difficult wounds to heal and recover from… Not the answer I was looking for, right?!
There’s a flowing mix of emotions involved in that mutating shift for me, the most significant one being the collective liberation from the tight restrictive straitjacket we’ve been held in during the 3 weeks our previous recording experiment lasted. It’s particularly exhilarating after what seemed like being dispossessed of our own artistic nature for a while, like being able to widely open the otherwise sealed shutters of our imagination once again, rediscovering the rejuvenating perfumes of spring after what felt like a never-ending winter… It’s good to see the light, to hear the birds, to feel the fresh wind on our faces, to close our eyes and breathe a new season in, to let go without having to worry about any arbitrary form of exterior boundaries, to set ourselves free from the limitations and restrictions imposed to our emancipative instincts… And all for reasons I have never been — never will be — able to understand in the first place. It’s magnificent to witness the floodgate giving way under the benevolent pressure of our emotional stream, of who we are, and of what makes us the uplifting assemblage of chaotic waves that is uniquely reflected in our communal gathering. It comes as no wonder that, only a few minutes into our initial tour preparation togetherness, we ended up writing a new song. You can’t limit the spirit; you have to dispose yourself and let the moment magnify its inspiring presence. There’s no formula to mimic the evolving fluidity of the invisible.
That creative spiritual liberation apart, I guess the most soulful aspect of that transitionary movement for me resides in the act of peacefully standing behind a microphone after 18 months of profound anxiety regarding the future. Would I be able to sing again? Would I have the same vocal flexibility to express myself freely? Would I have the cognitive capacity to remember enough of my songs to dwell on them without having to think? Would I have enough physical energy to live those songs with the same measure of abandonment as I used to do? Would I have the same affective instinct to lead the band in an improvised motion? Would I be able to discern the sensations necessary to guide them, to point them in the right direction? My numerous specialists told me that all the answers resided in my head, that I wasn’t that far-removed physically to get back into the current without having to worry about anything else but to seriously pace myself (that might be a problem right there…!) They said that most of my hesitations, my doubts, and my insecurities were mostly psychological, and therefore the most difficult wounds to heal and recover from… Not the answer I was looking for, right?!
Another capital factor involved in my inner focus transmutation remains the necessity for me to find enough of the tour’s distinctive identity to start shaping its peculiar characteristics. It’s an essential dimension to every single tour, project, album, movie, or book I have the blessing to give life to. The determination of the “what” will lead to the “why” and ultimately define the “how”. So until I find fragments of subjective answers to “What is that tour about?”, “What can I offer people?”, “What should I share?”, “What lies beyond my need for control and my fear of surrendering to the tour’s own essence?”, it’s impossible for me to muse on the “whys” those “whats” are all about and subsequently to identify the proper pieces of the “how” I have to collect in order to set up the proper foundation for that construct designed by my foreseeing introspection. I know, I know… It’s not supposed to be that complex nor that complicated — good for those for whose it ain’t! But for me, music originates from somewhere deep inside, and its empowering measure resides in its sacred dimension. That’s the reason why I’ve been drawn to the divine aspect of art; so I can see rather than perceive, I can be rather than keep faking with pretends.
It’s always funny when my bandmates wonder where I am at when they look at me introspectively disposing myself to identify the “what” I’m obsessed with. My answer is always utterly simple: “I’m ok, I’m searching for God to know what that upcoming tour is all about.” It cannot be more elusive of an answer, I suppose… They don’t react much anymore, but early on, there was a whole lot of “WHAT?!” and it didn’t have anything to do with digging for a meaning…! I guess they understood over time that it’s a bit less esoteric than it may sound…! I could have called my process many different things, but still, the point is that I’m looking for something that cannot be found in chord progressions, in a plethora of words, in layers of noises, or in any palpable elements I could reach and build on to. It’s the ethereal wonders that I’m always looking for and the most challenging element is that I have to accept that, sometimes, I might have 10% of what I know is accessible and reachable and will nonetheless have to commit to it a 100%, all that without overdoing it to compensate what I may think is missing. I have learned that every time I force myself into a stream I can’t sense the inner uplift of, it always ends up in a total disaster of a self-indulged gimmick, reminding my fragile ego that it’s not about me at all, that it has never been… It’s about the spirit of the moment, something I’m part of, but of which I am in no way the generator nor the core of that invisible personal and collective transcendence. I cannot scream or jump high enough to immolate what can’t be produced or reproduced Welcome to my head and soul, everybody!
All that to say that I’m back at my creative station with the rest of the band, disposed and willing, welcoming the reemerging sensations of emotional exultations that only take place when I let greater peace of the “vibe” overcome my every fear and doubt, one by one, while elevating us all for a short instant of grace, of immateriality. It’s truly one step at the time… But at least, I have the conviction that I’m moving forward. While some collapse into their own vision of the now, others kneel down to discern some conception of “hopefully, then”… As for me, the victory, if there’s any, should be to stand in the Upper Room studio with the others, but the triumph over my bleak cynical nature is what I long for, one that only resides in another type of dimension, right where I want to be. It’s not a process, it’s an enfranchisement. And as much as I immediately want it all, it’s what I cultivate from deep within that lights up the way.
Slow and steady, as my managers and precious friends Bill and Jennie keep reminding me with caring affection. Slow and steady, slow and steady, slow and steady… Resolution and conviction. From my echo chamber to our communal stage…
Slow and steady, as my managers and precious friends Bill and Jennie keep reminding me with caring affection. Slow and steady, slow and steady, slow and steady… Resolution and conviction. From my echo chamber to our communal stage…
