reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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a tall spikelet. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

she was a coloratura soprano. her leaps, her trills, her range were atmospheric. bell-like and of angel quality, rayna sang effortlessly.

i have no idea if she is singing now. the last i heard – after i graduated with a degree in composition – she left and was in med school, seeking a degree outside of the arts. she must have had a wise mentor along the way. someone who told her she could always sing “on the side”. like rice pilaf.

“on the side.”

it’s the ever-present albatross of artists. even those who stand out in a crowd are thrust – by a society that doesn’t place as much value on the arts – into the yin-yang of opposing forces: stay. go. full-time. on the side.

every now and then there is a whitetop sedge spikelet in the field that is strikingly more successful than the rest… the mariah carey, the ariana grande, the beverly sills, the joan sutherland. delivering exquisite bel canto, they do not render the other spikelets any less important, nor should they be. each voice is unique in the meadow and this spikelet is just a little taller.

before i finished my bachelor’s degree i was accepted into the business school at usf. “accounting,” i thought. “i love math, therefore accounting.” the “normal-job” world was taunting me. but i declined the placement and continued on my merry way, writing music. i did not have rayna’s mentor and i believed there was a way to stand out, somehow.

it took some time just to get around to writing. life and its put-the-art-making-on-the-side-and-get-a-real-job-and-make-a-living had me directing and teaching. but not writing. i dabbled a bit relatively early on, did some recording and visited nashville – but didn’t move there. i don’t think i recognized the garden there when i saw it.

it wasn’t until a decade later that the muse caught back up to me. and when it did, it was with some gusto.

and now i’ve seen “the fault in our stars”. and i’ve witnessed mortality. i have loved and lost and changed and learned and made giant messes and have ridden the tide in and out, in and out.

and i’ve written some of my best and some of my worst. and it all counts – whether i – or you – are a tall spikelet or not.

i wonder now if rayna is practicing medicine. i wonder if she is singing.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY


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put your fingers on the keys. [d.r. thursday]

putyourfingersonthekeys WITH EYES jpeg copy 2

nine.  i have nine fingers i can use right now.  and, like chicken marsala, i am putting them on the keys and following the music.  two weeks after breaking my wrists i was back playing and directing.  who needs wrists anyway?  who needs all ten fingers?

music can’t be stopped.  it’s in the sound of the sunrise, the sound of your baby waking up, the sound of the clink of coffee cups.  it’s humming as you ready for your day, singing along in the car, laughter shared over the phone.  it’s in the hug you give your children as you drop them at school and the help you give your aging parents.  it’s in dinner you prepare for loved ones, and in the volunteering you do for a local service organization.  it’s in the walk in the woods, a stroll by the water’s edge.  it’s in the quiet weary at the end of the evening, the sighs of a life-day done well.  it’s in dreams and in hope. and it can’t be stopped.

we will always turn to the arts for comfort, for meaning, in joy and in sorrow.  the music follows us; it surrounds us.  it waits silently, ready to volume-up when necessary, hush-down when needed.  it’s background.  it’s foreground.

we need only put our fingers on the keys.

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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CHICKEN MARSALA ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood

 


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out there. [k.s. friday]

moab.k. out there.

out there

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kerri sherwood on iTUNES

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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out there ©️ 2019 kerri sherwood


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the music waits. [k.s. friday]

wait a while songbox

there was not room on island for my piano, sheets of blank score paper, baskets of notebooks of lyrics, melody smidges, chord progression fragments.  they waited at home for my return.

consumed by many tasks and layers of work since we arrived back home, we are surrounded by boxes and bins still unpacked.  there is much to do.  we have many other things tugging at us and these packed boxes, although frustratingly in the way, have sunk to a lower rung on the list of things-to-do.

i have been in and out of my studio, grabbing music as i need it, playing through a piece here and there, reviewing music for work.  i have added a few notes to notebooks, to my calendar, a line of lyric here and there to remember on scraps i hope not to lose.

the other day i pulled out cds, finding a few with pieces that didn’t get tracked.  rough cuts of piano for under lyrics, rough cuts of piano instrumentals.  every artist has them…the cuts that didn’t get finished, the cuts that didn’t make it to the album.  scraps of paper, notebooks of ideas, rough cuts of beginnings.  they all eventually lead somewhere.  no idea, no melodic gesture, no lyric stands alone.

and so, my really beautiful big resounding piano waits for me as i am quiet.  pencils i’ve saved from The Boy’s and The Girl’s pencilboxes sit atop, next to blank score paper, notebooks and pa pads.  they all wait.  the muse waits.  the music waits.

CLICK HERE TO LISTEN TO THIS ROUGH CUT ON OUR WEBSITE

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read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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WAIT A WHILE ROUGH CUT et al ©️ 1995-2019 kerri sherwood