Friday, February 13, 2009

Pop & Circumstances

Remind me to post some funny stories along the way.  Like the time I fell asleep on my drums while playing a musical.  Or the time I left my snare stand next to a strip club and had to "buy" it back the next day.  On a side note: it should also be known that my alma mater sent me a magnet-backed bottle opener enclosed in their semi-annual donation solicitation.  They want to get me drunk, then ask for money.  I'm getting off track...

Any good musician will have a hard time explaining pop music.  But like true love or a bad rash, they'll know when they've got it.  Pop music is contemporary music enjoyed by the masses.  Let's refer to it as now-music for short.  If you write the pop music you hear on the radio (or the iTunes store homepage), you'll get a perfect example of now-music.  But by the time you've written your now-music, it's become then-music and someone is making money while you're living at your parents.  So you must attempt to accurately predict and then write future-music.  That way, by the time you're through writing, it's become now-music.  This involves some guess work.  My roommate, a market analyst, will tell me all about what's happened so far.  He can then guess, with a certain degree of uncertainty, what's to come next.  But the bottom line is that no one knows.  Same with pop music.  How then do you write future-music?  The good news is that "Humanity doesn't do backward."  (Words of encouragement tossed at me by a friend last Saturday.)  As long as you be yourself, you'll be combining elements of everything you've ever heard thereby producing something totally new.  You will write future-music which will then become now-music.  But I almost forgot: if your music sucks, no one will want to listen to it.  And then you've failed at writing pop music.

Should we go for fame?  Perhaps post-mortem glory?  If you pen something "ahead of your time," it will eventually be recognized as great work, astounding work, genius work.  Nothing sounds quite as unfulfilling as laying in a box in the dirt, while everyone dances around above celebrating the music they didn't used to like.  It's not my fault they didn't like it.  I was just too future and not enough now.

I must be a good musician: explaining this was hard.

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