The "Elemental" Recording Diary: Demons, Dangers, and Doubts, Oh My!

Anyone who knows any kind of artist, particularly performing artists, has probably heard about some of the internal battles we fight, often on a daily basis. Sometimes I think we choose (or more appropriately are chosen by) our art in order to work through a plethora of psychological and emotional barriers in this lifetime. We express for the collective, we push boundaries, we blaze trails, and speak truths. And sometimes it feels like we're society's guinea pigs in the process. We color outside the lines and then wait to see if we'll be applauded or smacked down for it. Those who can't risk the thought of being judged either way keep within the lines and stay silent. I did that... for thirty-three years.

This drive to express opens us up to everything within and outside of ourselves that challenges what we're expressing or even our authority to express it. I won't go into all the ways that we churn ourselves into tangled masses of compromised humanity, but suffice it to say we're usually functioning in a complicated swirl of conflicting dichotomies. I want to be heard/seen... Oh God, please don't look at me... I'm not good enough... I'm better than THAT guy, why's he getting all the attention?... I have a gift and it's my purpose in life to share it... Who cares, anyway? You're just one of a multitude of people who think what they have to say is important and nobody wants to hear it... This is the greatest thing I've ever created... This is utter crap!... and on it goes.

In other words, artists are a little crazy. But then aren't we all? Some of us just recognize and admit to it. I've fought the fight, am fighting the fight, and will continue to fight all those little demons inside my head. I've done this long enough to know that once one is vanquished, another rises to take its place. That's life. You learn a lesson or heal some part of yourself and another opportunity for more learning/healing comes along. Nature abhors a vacuum.

That said, it's understandable that recording is fraught with lots of new demons, some old ones you just haven't seen in awhile, and loads of doubt. You have many decisions to make and many will take you down a different path. Each song is a blank canvas and every action a brush stroke or color that shapes the outcome of the final piece. There are the artistic decisions you make in the moments you're performing, too. Should I hold that note a little longer? Should I sing that phrase softer? Did I infuse enough emotion into that line?

Sure, you can record take after take trying to capture all the possibilities, but then you have an engineer who is either greatly annoyed or nodding off. You'll also have so many takes to listen to that you create a whole new hell for yourself later when you have to wade through them. I am guilty of this. I admit it. And I get "bark mark" quite easily (that mark on your forehead from having it pressed so hard against the tree that you can't see the forest). Being detail-oriented is a strength in moderation, but can be crippling if one focuses too closely. And baby, I can get microscopic on your ass!

Fortunately, Sean knows me well enough to know that I develop "bark mark" quite easily and need to be pulled back from the tree on occasion. He's patient, but he's also not afraid to step in and remind me when I'm taking things too seriously.

It's funny that even with our ability to comp takes so I don't need to do one solid, "perfect" performance, there's still this feeling of being on an Olympic high-dive board about to take the plunge every time that little red "record" light comes on. Performance anxiety at its worst because there's absolutely no reason to have it. As Sean so wisely reminded me, "you know that's all in your head, right?"

That said, you do need to be in the right head space. The question is, what is the right head space? It can be different for different songs or on different days. Do I just relax and pretend I'm not recording this? Do I focus hard on technique or achieving the right level of energy? Do I really put myself in the emotional space of the song?

Last week, I found myself singing to a piece of insulation in the ceiling that in the dim "mood lighting" in Sean's basement, looked like the head of a little squirrel. My mind was totally distracted by this imaginary critter -- how light and shadow transformed this material into something that wasn't really there, how it wouldn't look like that from any other angle, how I'm one of those people (to quote a line from Victoria Woodworth's "Cross Upon A Cord") who is always "seeing faces in the paint" -- and that last thought caused me to laugh out loud in the middle of the song.

It wasn't until I was headed home that night that I realized how different these recording sessions have been from my past sessions with "Crucible" and "Venus In Retrograde." Perhaps it's just experience or an example of how much I've changed over the last five years... probably a bit of both.

I still have my tendency to be a perfectionist and get "bark mark," but I also find it easier to step out of that space and laugh at myself. I don't take things as seriously. But I also discovered that I'm playing and singing A LOT easier than I did in the past. There's an effortlessness that I haven't felt since before my vocal surgery and that I've NEVER felt when recording. The best way to describe it is that I'm not trying to "do" anything, I'm just "being."

I hope this feeling of effortlessness continues throughout this project. There are plenty of elements that are anything but effortless, so having the performance element come easy is a blessing.

What It Really Means to be Vulnerable

Vulnerable: susceptible to physical or emotional attack or harm.

Over the years, many people have commented that one of my strengths as a performer is that I'm so vulnerable it gives the audience an opportunity to access their own vulnerability.  I help them to feel and process emotions they otherwise avoid or keep bottled up.  I've been pondering that for quite some time now because that word -- vulnerable -- keeps coming up for me.  Usually it's referred to as a strength, which goes against its very definition.  Over the last few years I have opened up more and more to the point where I feel this unusual sense of power when I am being vulnerable.  I don't feel weak.  I feel bulletproof. 

A year or so ago, a friend who had recently been diagnosed with cancer said in casual conversation that I am the bravest person she knows.  That floored me, and triggered something deep in me that reduced me to tears.  What on Earth could someone with bigger, scarier problems than I have see in me that would lead them to say something like that?  I'm not brave, I'm terrified every day.  I'm constantly putting myself in situations that are uncomfortable for me.  I force myself through the discomfort because what I want is on the other side.

A-ha... Isn't that the definition of bravery, to face your fears, to put yourself in uncomfortable situations because you know you must in order to act with integrity or to follow your dreams?

She explained that I don't let anything get in the way of what I want.  I don't write myself off.  I show up.  I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, even when I'm afraid... especially when I'm afraid.  I had never considered this, and certainly never thought of myself as courageous. 

After the Sandy Hook shootings, I saw a powerful  interview with the mother of one of the children who was killed.  She glowed with love and pride as she spoke of her child and her voice held so much power and certainty.  It was so unusual to see someone who had suffered something so unspeakable relating their feelings in a way that was, for lack of a better word, empowering.  Then she said something that struck me personally.  I'm paraphrasing here since it's obviously been awhile since I saw the interview, but this is the gist of what she expressed.  She said when you experience a loss so great, you gain a kind of fearlessness. You can't be hurt any more than you already are.  You have nothing more to lose and there is a freedom in that. 

My losses have not been so great, but they have taken me close enough to the bottom to feel the fearlessness that comes from the rawness of being laid open by grief.  I've even written a song about that experience, Phoenix (Sleep Without Dreams).  There's no weakness there.  You have felt such hurt that you are amazed that you are still alive.  For better or worse, you feel invincible.  All the petty fears that loomed so large before your loss are forgotten.  There is nothing left to be afraid of. 

I have tried to explain this epiphany to several people and it seems the ones who really understand it are those who have faced loss themselves.  We have talked of Joseph Campbell and the Hero's Journey, of the metaphorical death and rebirth in the cycle of our journeys.  It is a personal redemption as we process our losses, shed the trappings of the world that no longer hold power over us, and attune to our inner strength.  Letting ourselves be laid bare and vulnerable realigns us with our authentic selves and our soul's purpose.

So, just as I've finally come to my own understanding of what it really means to be vulnerable, I hear an interview with Brené Brown, a research professor at the University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work, on the TED Radio Hour on NPR.  Some of her quotes that grabbed me:

• Vulnerability is not weakness.
• Vulnerability is our most accurate measure of courage.
• Embedded in real vulnerability is an honest raw bid for connection.
• You cannot selectively numb.  When we numb vulnerability, we numb joy, gratitude, and happiness.
• Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change.

In her second TED Talk, Brené ties vulnerability to shame and our fear that if others see us as we truly are, we will be found unworthy and unlovable.  We will face disconnection from others, which is the most terrifying fear we possess as social beings who rely on connection for our very survival.  

I have discovered over the course of the last few years that being authentic and expressing my own vulnerability is a means for me to really experience my worthiness.  I'm afraid when I open myself up, I will be be found lacking and will be abandoned.  But that has not been my experience.  My experience has been that when I am authentic others embrace me and they open up, too.  And those few who do abandon me are replaced exponentially by those who recognize themselves in my struggles. I have become part of a support network of "the Whole-Hearted," as Brené has named them.  The Whole-Hearted are people who feel worthy.  The more I challenge that part of me that feels unworthy, the more I call it out and name it, the more worthy I feel and the more whole-hearted I become.

Brené found in her research that the Whole-Hearted have the following in common:

• They have the courage to be imperfect.
• They have the compassion to be kind to themselves and others.
• They have connection as a result of authenticity.
• They fully embrace vulnerability.  They believe that what makes them vulnerable makes them beautiful. 

If any of this resonates with you or piques your curiosity, I strongly encourage you to listen to the NPR interview with Brené, and both her TED talks (the most recent is at the top of the page and the earlier one is further below): http://www.npr.org/2013/08/23/174033560/can-we-gain-strength-from-shame 

I hope you will share your thoughts and insights with me below.

Attention all writers, songwriters, and poets

This Wednesday is my next songwriting class and I've decided to tweak the direction of my teaching. I'd like to focus on the part of songwriting that I'm passionate about: the lyrics and ideas that we're trying to express musically. I want to help people dig down to discover the well of their own authentic self-expression, their own unique voice.

At the same time, I recognize that this focus of topic broadens the audience of people who might benefit from the discussion. Writers, poets, and people who just wish to better explore their own lives through journaling will find these ideas and the sharing of others' journeys useful. To that end, my goal is to open this group to these other writers (aspiring or otherwise). We'll explore free-writing and other exercises to prime the pump and I'll introduce you to things that I've found very inspiring. Think of it less as a class and more of a workshop/support group meant to inspire your creativity.

That said, next Wednesday, August 8 at 7:00 pm, I'll be sharing a movie that greatly inspired me. It's a documentary called "Finding Joe." It is an exploration of Joseph Campbell's study of the hero's journey. I know, you're thinking, "what on earth does that have to do with songwriting?" More than you know, especially if you write songs that tell stories. Even if you're writing about one moment in a story - falling in love, for example - understanding where that moment fits in the context of the subject's journey will help you bring it to life with more depth. Also, we are all living our own hero's journey, and this film will help you become more aware of your own story (or stories) and might inspire you to live a more fully realized life by "following your bliss."

Space is limited so if you're interested in joining us, please email me at trinity@trinitydemask.com to RSVP.  We meet at a private residence in Westminster so if you haven't been to a class before, I'll email you directions.  The cost of the class/group will be a suggested $10 donation and it will meet on the second Wednesday of the month (unless otherwise noted on my website).  I will still facilitate the critique group on the fourth Wednesday of the month.  There is no cost for the critique group and it is open to any songwriter who wants feedback on their songs whether they take the class or not.

If you're a poet, songwriter, or writer and need a little inspiration, direction, or just want to be among a tribe of like-minded creatives, I hope you'll join us sometime.

Songwriting class begins March 14, 2012

On March 14, 2012, I will begin offering a monthly songwriting workshop. Each class will focus on a different aspect of writing songs. The topic of the first class will be how to craft compelling lyrics. Each class will be two hours (7:00 - 9:00 pm) and will fall on the 2nd Wednesday of the month. The workshops are geared toward beginning songwriters or intermediate songwriters looking for new ideas and approaches to spur their creativity. The cost is $20 per class and the location is at a home in Westminster near 88th and Lowell Boulevard. If you'd like to attend, please contact me at trinity@trinitydemask.com and I'll forward the exact address.

In addition to the monthly workshop, participants are invited to attend a free monthly song critique group. The purpose of this group is provide constructive feedback on participants' songs in a supportive environment. It also encourages participants to put into practice the techniques and ideas they gained in class, and to share their own thoughts and insights on the work of others. There is no cost for this group. It will be held on the 4th Wednesday of the month (March 28th) at the same location and time (7:00 - 9:00 pm).

Space is limited for both the workshop and critique group so if you are interested, please contact me soon. I look forward to sharing my knowledge and insight to help you express yourself through song!