The Song

The host of the show sits wearing an effortlessly garish ensemble, a light gray blazer over a black shirt, intentionally clashing with tan pants.  The look is rounded out with pair of gray horn rimmed glasses and a red flower lapel.  “Tell us about your song writing process.”

“Well, it’s a little unusual.  You know how it feels to forget how a song goes?  Then a line of the chorus comes to you, then the whole thing.  Then you start remembering the verses until you’ve got it all?”

“Mmm hmm?” The interviewer crosses his legs and leans in, eyes squinting just slightly, as his face shifts to an almost overly inquisitive look.  Decidedly his general vibe allows him to pull it off.

“I basically do that with my songs.  There’s some fine tuning to be done at the end, but the bulk of what I am inspired to write comes to me as a memory, or like hearing a song in your head you once knew.  It’s kind of unusual I guess.”

“Well I’ll say!”  Punctuating his now amazed expression, the interviewer removes his glasses, twirling them between thumb and forefinger, with elbow propped on knee.  “How do you remember something that doesn’t exist though?”

“Honestly I think all music, and possibly much more, stems from one Song.  The Song is so complex that each time you hear it, it sounds different.  We all hear it, other musicians are inspired, others still paint masterpieces, invent, and becomes masters in a chosen skill.  I hear it like a reflection of The Song itself, remembering the lyrics as I hear them.’

“It’s clearly works for you, I wouldn’t change a thing.”  The audience laughs as he switches to a jovial expression, shifting his hands to his lapels to shake off the imaginary dust that is the shattered belief that one’s muse needing to make sense.  “Thank you for joining us, we’ll see you next week!”


~ by songoflove on July 15, 2017.

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