sketch for strings v1Lately, I’ve been experimenting with a piece for strings (flute assist). The file here is the current and unfinished version. I find this kind of writing very enjoyable, but it’s incredibly more difficult than my typical guitar-and-voice folk writing. Bach and Mozart and Company must’ve all had IQs off the charts to do what they did. This sort of thing also takes me a tremendous amount of time, so if anyone has any (non-medicated) ideas for how to healthily stay up all night for weeks on end, please let me know.
Anyway, this piece is a meditation on some of the themes in the Hawk books. Most of my non-vocal music these days is revolving around them. The books, from one perspective (mine, at least), are studies on the lamentations of life: death, loss, regret, etc (aside: I had a recent, puzzling review in which the reviewer chastised me for the very un-serious nature of the books).
I’ve always considered that life itself is largely about lamentation. Don’t get me wrong; there are plenty of wonderful things in life (case in point: spend a few minutes with my 6-year-old and my 2-year-old and you’ll realize that) , but the venue is dark. The world groans with the weight of darkness. Forgive me for being blunt, but you’d have to be a fool to not realize this.
My favorite law of thermodynamics, entropy, says that matter becomes more disorganized as time passes. Things fall apart. I’d argue that applies equally to us humans and our society. Things really do fall apart. Whether it be the recent movement in academia to legalize post-birth abortion (how’s that for a euphemism?), the pastor in Iran waiting his execution for refusing to convert to Islam, or the curious and dreary spectacle of our current politics in the US–things crumble into ruin.
I suppose you might be wondering, is this poor crank of a writer depressed? No, not really. After all, the hopeful and encouraging thing in all of this is that light shines much brighter in the darkness, even if it is a very small candle flame. And that, I think, with all of its inherent promise, is enough to guarantee a peaceful night’s sleep. That brings us to tomorrow, of course, but that’s another day.