My creative energy flows in cycles, between art and music. The two don’t successfully coexist, and I’ve come to accept that. According to my portfolio site, I haven’t done any of that in quite some time. There are several reasons for that, but one of the most obvious is that I’ve been focused on my music. I got together a new version of Dark Disco Club, and we made a group of songs that I am very satisfied with. Well now we’ve hit a wall and my motivation has taken a nosedive.
First of all, we made a deal with someone that would/should have guaranteed our CD was manufactured shortly after the recording was complete. Well we kept up our end, but it didn’t happen. Months have gone by, it still hasn’t happened, and I don’t exactly see any signs that make me believe it’s going to happen anytime soon. Since then, the band has been rehearsing to perform shows in support of this new album. Now that the album doesn’t exist in any physical way, playing those shows seems far less appealing. Why rehearse for months, go to clubs and bust my ass playing a show, so people that like us can NOT take our new album home? It’s pointless, it’s half-assed, and at this stage it would just be an embarrassment to me.
Now, let’s pretend we did have the CD’s. No one would buy them anyway. Why? Because when they see us live we will probably suck. Why would we suck? Well, that’s what happens when a band doesn’t practice their asses off. We only have scheduled practice two days per seven-day week, yet some of us just can’t seem to fit that in. Things come up. Always. Of course I’m not that guy. I skipped seeing Sabbath with Dio for the band, and I made it to practice when my son was about 24 hours old. No one even expected me to be there, but I made damn sure I was, because when it comes to this band, I always try to lead by example. It’s never helped much in the past, and it doesn’t help now. But hey, I tried. When I’ve been up all night with a screaming baby, I come. When my back is killing me because a drunk driver smashed into me, I come. When I’m sick and can barely speak, I come.
I haven’t pulled it just yet, but my finger rests nervously on this trigger. Printmaking here I come?