The sun is almost setting when I see the flying dandelion. I think to myself, should this dandelion think, what would it think about? Is it possible for a dandelion to have little dandelion thoughts. To worry about where it will land. To hope that it arrives at a fertile ground and not in water. So much the poor dandelion has to worry about, and yet, he doesn’t for he will arrive wherever he arrives, and that will be his fate.
Listen to my piano solo interpretation of the thoughts of the little dandelion here.
Happy listening, and let me know what you think.
If your desire is to compose music for a living then at least be aware of your likely financial life propositions:
1. You will make very little money, unless,
2. You have other financial resources available.
The profession of creating music has historically been sponsored by generous patrons. This is the case because, ironically, although people love to consume music with tremendous voracity and delight, music as a product has never been priced correctly.
The value of music has been driven to zero by a combination of de-facto monopolies on distribution, extreme supply of music (of all qualities), as well as the customary behavior by most song consumers to pay artists basically nothing.
Perhaps there is a third option:
3. Make it big.
When looking at this picture, do you see the bleakness of human life? This question is not rhetorical. It’s also not meant as a juxtaposition of apparent beauty with “bleakness”, something most of us associate with a much greyer picture. Why is there bleakness and despair here?
My piano music has been described as relaxing, yet sad. I wonder whether beauty is surreptitiously related to sadness.
In an attempt to regain who I am, I usually listen to good music. There are countless studies on the benefits of putting yourself in an environment where the senses are not attacked by damaging stimuli. But, like smoking, the studies tell us one thing while we insist on being stubborn and listening to things that can objectively be categorized as garbage. I guess garbage is to some an acquired taste.
Music has been wedded to us since the beginning of human history. It’s innate to our biology so much so one could argue all of us are composers.