A confession, of sorts; or, How I Came To Believe That Creating Music is Worthless
For the past six to ten months I've been trying to figure out why I haven't been writing songs. The last song I finished was around July of 2003, over a year ago. And I have to go back to around January of 2001 to find a time when I was writing with any kind of regularity.
The first major theory I had was that I was pouring my creative energies into my relationship with Danielle. We "met" (online at first) in July of 2001 and married almost one year later. And I think I was wise to make our marriage the main focus of my energies. But even Danielle agreed, after one, then two, anniversaries went by, that we had built a solid enough foundation as a couple, in our marriage, that it was important for each of us to rediscover some of the things that we used to spend our time doing or creating. Unfortunately, it hasn't been as easy as flipping a switch. I've tried different approaches (though not every possible one) to sparking my creativity anew, but so far to no avail.
A month or so ago I came up with the theory (even when I can't come up with songs, I still can come up with theories) that my lack of songs was due to lack of songwriting community. I postulated that the end of my songwriting came about the same time as my best critiquer left the country. I think I haven't gone back and checked the dates because that theory probably doesn't hold water.
But last night I started to read a book that I hope will help rekindle the creative fires within me. It's The Creative Call: An Artist's Response to the Way of the Spirit". But I never got past the first two paragraphs of the Foreword. They sparked some thoughts that I thought were worth writing down. After I got done, I thought they were worth putting up here, too. Keep in mind, these words are DEscriptive, not PREscriptive.
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10-15-04, 10:32pm
I used to be a songwriter. Today I am a person who wrote some songs. It used to be an active, energetic, pouring-out of myself. Music in general used to be vital, exciting, something I enjoyed keeping up with and stretching my boundaries thereof. I used to get excited when a great band was getting ready to release a new album. Music used to be very important to me.
But as I got older, I lost faith in the entity that had excited me so, the entity of the Christian music industry. I had loved hearing new voices bring to me new facets about God, about life, about the world. But as I faced the reality of an Industry and the calculated money-making machinery thereof, as I earned more money [in my "real" job] by doing virtually nothing, as I gained more peace and confidence through the love of my wife... I stopped wanting to write songs.
I think I was driven before by a sense of lack in my life. I wanted love and approval: writing songs seemed to hold out the promise of giving me that love and approval. I thought that music, specifically Christian music, could lead people to God, inspire them, educate them, build them up; whether right or wrong, today it's hard for me to believe that. In our culture, music seems to be self-aggrandizing aural vomit, or else merely entertainment. Neither category is one I'd really like to be associated with.
Another motivation, of course, was the tantalizing prospect of making lots of money with very little investment (relatively, at least) of time or energy on my part. I dreamed for years of writing hit songs, letting others record them, while I stayed at home, helping out the people I knew, traveling occasionally, and writing more hit songs. I even dragged Danielle into believing that dream, I think. Today that seems like a tragic, though unintentioonal, falsehood, a convenient fantasy.
Today I have a hard time believing that the CCM industry does all that much good. Preaching primarily to the choir, they do little but mimic mainstream culture with safe and accessible formulas. I also find it hard to believe that hit songs do much good in any genre. To achieve best-selling status, music has to go through a process of homogenization, pasteurization, and anything else it has to, to make it acceptable to the lowest common denominator, a safe investment for the money-hoarding marketing executives.
I don't believe that creating music is a valuable or worthwhile pursuit. And that is where I am as I begin this book.
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