“release”

in my previous posts, in various places around the internet, i put the word ‘release’ in quotation marks. it’s a self-esteem thing, i guess. i don’t know if i can, or should, use the word release in its legitimate sense. i mean it’s not like i’m an artist with fans, and people who were waiting in anticipation for my music, right?  so, if i don’t call it a release, then i have nothing to stress over when no one listens or downloads, right?

wrong.

as much as i’d like to spare my feelings of rejection, and let everything roll off my back, it still pricks my chest a little when i reach and am returned no response (especially from people i know personally). “shaking the dust off my feet” and moving on to the next thing can be easier said than done sometimes—most of the time—but i think i’ve forced myself to do it so many times in the past year trying to find my audience. there’s no time to mourn the connection that could have been because trying to find the right one, that is beneficial to both parties, requires a lot of time and energy and, so far, breeds about a 20% success rate (probably less). to any artists, musicians, etc. out there, how do/did you find your audience?

break every chain

Sunday I played a song at a fundraising rally that my aunt organizes for her church every year. I sang, “All I Can Say” by the David Crowder*Band in memory of my deceased friend. She had come with me the previous year. When I told the audience her story I heard a unified, “awwww,” which made me feel weird—like I was being pitied. After this I began the opening chords. As the song progressed I really felt it, it wasn’t the best I’d ever performed, but it was my best at the time. And like the song says, that’s all I could give at that moment.  But it went well, and on the second verse I heard the bluesy wah of the lead join in with me and the drums followed, lightly tapping the snare and cymbal. When I finished,everyone gave me a standing ovation; at least most everyone. It’s kind of a blur since I tend to look away when I finish a performance, somehow not looking into the audiences faces after a performance means they can’t see me (I hate being in the spotlight. I know, I know…why am I doing this then?).

After I sat, it was time for the choir sing. The lead singer started singing with the most powerful, melodic voice you’d ever want to hear. She dug deep, yet made it look and sound so effortless. As “Break Every Chain” echoed though the walls of the building some called out—amens, hallelujahs, clapping—but I just sat. I sat and I thought. I thought about my friend. I realized that her death, even though it happened a while ago is still a chain on my life that needs to be broken. I miss her a lot. Sitting there, having this realization, I was about to cry, but I stopped myself—foolish pride. I thought,If I let myself cry right now, I know I’ll feel better. But I hate crying—especially in front of people. So I resolved to just sit and listen and hold it in. I wish I could have let go at that moment; let go of every burden on my life that I keep saying I want to give to God, that I keep praying I want to give up, but still hold on to when it’s all said and done. It all comes down to pride. Right now, pride must cease. Things would be so much better if pride were a thing that sin never brought into existence. 

—destinie