So I'm back from the big city. This was my second visit back since we moved from our home of seven years, the city where I went to college, grad school, met my husband, got married, and had an amazing set of friends. After a four day trip to the Big Apple, I am actually really glad to be home in San Diego- a place that has somehow become home to me more than any other home ever has felt like home, mostly because of a special person called my hubby and what we call our "quiet life" here. I suppose the glorious 70 degree weather doesn't hurt either, compared to the 20 degree weather with "wintry mix" precipitation, which is basically the sleetish-snow that gets in your eyes and your face and makes you feel freezing, but never actually accumulates into anything pretty on the ground.
Anyway, it was pretty fun getting a taste of my old life back- lugging my guitar around on the subways, popping into my favorite places for a bagel or slice of pizza, seeing some of my favorite old friends from school, and wearing my puffy down coat along with three layers of everything underneath. The funny thing is that I didn't feel an ounce of tiredness the entire time I was there- in fact, on most nights I had trouble sleeping because my mind was still spinning with the excitement of being back. How long has been since I've stayed out past midnight or gone out after 8pm? Way too long. Oh, how exhilarating!
And so, the album is finally done. After being a half-baked project for much too long, it's finally done- now the fun part of waiting for it to be processed, duplicated, thinking about album art, copyrights, distribution, etc. Now that it was my second time in the studio, it was so much easier to have an idea of how to manage my expectations. My recording engineer was an absolute God-send and didn't give me an ounce of impatience or attitude the entire time. He magically edited all the little blips, buzzes, and string noise out of my recorded playing while I sat back and repeatedly went, "Wow. I can't believe you can do that."
Recording is a musician's best friend and worst enemy all rolled into one. Not really a warm fuzzy experience. Your mistakes are magnified and everything you ever didn't want anyone to hear is absolutely audible- string noise, buzzes, your clothing on the instrument, your breathing. Basically, your imperfection as a musician and human being are amplified and then you have to spend hours scrutinizing it, seeing what should be re-recorded, what can be taken out with the magic of technology, and what is passable and hopefully won't stumble listeners from enjoying the music. The whole process made me painfully aware of my own imperfection. To seek perfection for 8 hours a day three days straight was exhausting for me mentally. But then I had to stop and ask myself whether I should be seeking perfection in the first place.
I really do believe that the struggle of an artist to create something beautiful in a fallen world is perhaps the most beautiful thing of all. I mean, isn't the best thing about an old jazz recording that you can hear the musician humming along with his solo, or a vocalist taking a deep long breath before she starts the next phrase? In the end, I had to just let things go, realizing that this album ain't perfect, but it's me- it's human, so it can be gritty, awkward, ugly, worshipful, nonsensical, beautiful, and pleasant all at the same time.
I think that's the magic of being a human being.
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