NonPop

Nearly every composer and musician I’ve talked with for any length of time has expressed a feeling of isolation or distance from a perceived “center” of where the action is. There seems a pervasive gaze toward the horizon and a belief that “boy, they’re really in the middle of what’s important over there.” For a long time, I also felt this way. Living in the Northwest and Midwest perhaps justified and prolonged this belief, at least from a population standpoint.

I wrote this in a journal about four years ago:

I can remember a time when I thought the answer to life was to move to New York. I wanted to move there and join the artistic community of the world while adding my own voice. I thought that I would find the answer to all my questions there and that it would complete the puzzle for me. I would emerge from the city as the prodigal artist and face the world full of the knowledge I had received. The problem is that if I would’ve moved there, all of my questions would have been answered for me. I wouldn’t have been able to answer the questions for myself. A place like New York is horrible for a young artist looking for a vision. You’re bound to get caught up in someone else’s answer and become a pale imitation. I’m sure there are some that are strong enough, but I don’t think I could count myself as one. I’m too susceptible to the opinions of others when I’m feeling unsure. With thoughts that are unformed, that’s incredibly dangerous.

Isolation does wonderful things for a creative mind. What I’ve come to understand after spending almost a year in the splendid isolation of the Oregon high desert is that I’ve found more depth and honesty in my music because I haven’t had answers provided for me. I’ve been forced to ask my own questions and answer them without the din of the world.

I’ll go to New York some day. I want to be well armed though.

Some of the sentiments still ring true, but in many respects I don’t think I was giving my backbone enough credit. There’s some navel-gazing in there as well, but hey, it was a journal so that’s par for the course. This whole question of isolation isn’t wrapped up into a nice package for me yet. New York still seems like a goal (or the idea of New York), yet I know that people there feel this same kind of isolation so that will never be the answer.

I’m sure Rilke has something clever to say about this and you’re all screaming page numbers for me to go read and quit paraphrasing the metaphysical questions of dead poet philosophers.