When I returned home from Florida I was too tired to do much more than pay some bills, I looked to Netflix for some diversion. Not much interested me. I ended up watching a movie I'd never seen: the 1986 film "Nothing In Common" starring Tom Hanks and Jackie Gleason.Tom Hanks was thirty in 1986 and already an established movie and TV star - but he was not yet the acting icon he eventually would become. To watch him work here was simply an amazing experience. The movie is cute and interesting but flawed - the plot predicable and "cookie-cutter" - but the performances of Hanks (and Gleason) are riveting, infusing the plot with emotional sincerity and depth and drawing me into the story and the character's lives. Hanks is an artist. His performance moved me. That's art.
I really appreciate someone who can do this... I spent so many years working at a job where creativity was not part of the deal. Helping people was fine - but I had the desire to produce something that was special. Creative. Something which (hopefully) touched others in some emotional way. I'd been writing for years. Stories. Bits and pieces of plays. And music. I loved the "folk-rock" music of the sixties and early seventies. Bob Dylan. The Byrds. Early Van Morrison. James Taylor. So I learned to play guitar well enough to come up with some original tunes and channeled my concerns and problems and experiences into the lyrics. What evolved is a collection of material that I am proud of. Political and cultural satire, "fractured" love songs, nostalgic salutes to old friends and good times... heartfelt lyrics merged with some catchy tunes. My CD "In Retrospect" will be re-released this week. A good listen...and the songs stick. (As do the songs on "Double N".) I love the way they sound.
Except....except... that for many years these songs lay in a drawer. Moved from residence to residence in boxes, then filed away... mostly forgotten. For decades. Recorded with just myself on guitar using cassette tape. Work, marriage, fatherhood, divorce...life got too busy. Stuff happens...and except for an Open Mike in Columbia MD (where I performed two songs back in 1990) and the late eighties, when I spent some time playing on the street corners of the Village...the songs were not heard by anyone...except a few close friends and family.
Someone asked me the other day why I invest so much time in producing and promoting my music. After all - I am a novice producer, using less-than-professional technology...and sing like Dylan on a bad day.
My answer? I created this music. My other children. The lyrics. The tunes. They are part of me. And it gives me pleasure for the songs to be heard. Yes, I want people to like what they hear - and be touched in some way by the words. But what I have realized - really, have known all along! - is that it doesn't really matter what anyone really thinks....because I am proud of this material which I created. I love listening to them on my IPod. And ...because I took the initiative to put the music in a form where it could be heard...and then figured out how to distribute it...get others to listen...I feel good about myself. Really good. My creation. My art. Over 17,000 people have now heard my music on Jango.com. Many have become "fans". Some have left very positive comments. And some have heard the music on ITunes, Amazon, GooglePlay. Awesome.
Tom Hanks (and Gleason) took a flawed movie and elevated it to something more substantial by virtue of their performances. I was sitting there, watching...and suddenly...all the pain and loss associated with the loss of my mother and my father's descent into dementia hit me, triggered by the interaction between the father and son as portrayed by the two actors. It turned out to be a difficult few minutes. I miss my parents very much. And I am mourning the end of one chapter - a long one - in my life. But my reaction was... necessary. And overdue. Catharsis derived from a cinematic experience. The ultimate artistic emotional reaction. And that...seems about right.
Movies. Music. Art.
Perfect.
See you all soon...till then,
Stevenn
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