Most of this blog’s followers are people with whom I share an interest in reading or writing poems, and poetry is incredibly important to me, but I am also a songwriter with an online music project called Giants of Diving. I write, record, and produce all of the music alone in a modest (but powerful) home studio.
The benefits of working alone will be familiar to poets: the joy of solitude, total creative control, and with lyric writing as with poetry, the sense of a communion with language; on the best days, it’s just you and the words, and the feeling that this is exactly where you want — or need — to be.
Making music is different, at least the way I do it. I try to create a full band sound on my own, which means recording each instrument one track at a time. Writing the songs is the easy part, relatively. It’s something I’ve been doing, and getting steadily better at I think, since I was seventeen. The other relatively easy part is the playing. Recording the tracks doesn’t actually take much time. The real challenge comes in the mixing and production phases. These are hard things to do alone. They require a lot of repeated listening, experimentation, and tremendous patience. You try one reverb setting on a vocal – you listen – you try another setting – you listen – you try another setting… you get the picture. It’s not a process for the faint of heart, especially when it is YOUR OWN VOICE you’re listening to — again and again. Remember the first time you heard a taped playback of yourself and you couldn’t believe how strange you sounded? Multiply that experience by 100.
Despite the differences in process, I suppose I make music and poetry for essentially the same reasons. I love following the spark of an idea to its conclusion and being surprised by where it ends up. I love funneling big ideas through my unique filter and then releasing them into the world. I love looking back at something I created and knowing that I worked hard to bring it to life. Whether I’m re-recording a guitar solo just one more time after working on it all night or I’m revising a poem through its fifteenth draft, the motivations are the same.
So I’m glad to have both poetry and music, and I’m grateful that they are so different in the making. When my passion for one ebbs, the other creative outlet is there for me — offering inspiration.