>> Liquid Lines <<

Inspiration is a funny thing.

Sometimes the things you expect to inspire you the most don't stir even enough of an emotional response registrable by a pacemaker, yet, other times you're left to try and contain all of the newly flourishing poetry that's setting off fireworks in your brain until you can write it all down because it hit you when you'd least expected it.

Lately I've been thoroughly stumped as to my lack of inspiration.  Sure I've been busy and haven't exactly had the time to camp out in a practice room and write Beethoven quality material, but even as my focus drifts in class and my pen wanders to the outer margins of my notes...nothing.

And as I rushed around this week, spending every moment possible bathed in the harsh fluorescent lights of that dungeon some call the library, I'd expected my obligations tonight to be nothing more than a fifteenth line that I could cross off in my daily planner.  A friend had asked if I would help add some female vocals to a track that he was producing for his upcoming mix-tape.  Loving every opportunity to surround myself with music, I agreed.  But as I trudged through the persistent drizzle of rain that hung in the courtyard, the task of taking time out of studying for even a few hours seemed a daunting perspective.

But that mindset changed before I could even comprehend the fact that the awning of their apartment was dripping water onto the newly shattered screen of the cell phone I held in my hand.

The moment I entered the house I was greeted by the most exquisite creatures I have seen in a very long time.  Two perfectly marked, grey and black, baby kittens came skirting around the corner, and as the door shut, all of my stress and worries vanished into the chilly rain.  After participating in a much needed animal therapy session, consisting of the kittens taking turns hiding in my sweater, we retreated to probably one of the most fabulously "college" recording studios I have ever had the pleasure of working in.  This ingenious setup consisted of a vocal microphone placed deep inside a full closet, absolutely perfect at absorbing the sound.  And I'm not being sarcastic, I promise, it truly was a studio built on passion and performance instead of prestige.  And I wouldn't have had it any other way.

As I sat down on the bed to play with the kitten and listen to the other tracks on the tape, my mind was set on fire.  The depth of the passion in the lyrics, not to mention the lyrics themselves, was so concrete and seamless that I was transported.  Not only into the world these brilliant artists had created but into my own world.  It was as if my soul had been locking me out of my own pool of creativity for the past few months until that moment.  You should know that when I say the past few months, I should ballpark that figure at around eleven.  It has been approximately eleven months since the last time I was truly, rawly inspired.  So yeah, I can guarantee that my screaming soul was finally sated with the invitation to return to its hallowed halls.

The words flowed from these artists into liquid lines which eventually became a seamless verse and before I knew it I was too wrapped up in the buildup to the chorus that I forgot I was supposed to be singing it.  As I began to sing and record on track they had set up, a never-ending stream of ideas flew from me without thought, a feeling more welcomed than I could ever express in words.  The ease with which these men and their words inspired me, and vis versa, had hit me like a ton of kittens.  Not bricks, kittens.  Because unlike a crude and abrupt awakening, this inspiration came soft and welcomed yet at the same time intoxicatingly sneaky.  The moment I'd felt that my soul had simmered on the surface for too long it reminded me of ideas I'd suppressed and words I'd left dusty with disuse.  I haven't been this inspired in almost a year people, the ideas hadn't been growing rusty or forgotten, they were multiplying and expanding and just waiting for me to remember they were there.  

Well needless to say, the atmosphere was conducive to producing an amazing hook for an amazing track and all parties were sad that we hadn't planned more of a collaboration.  To work in an amazingly inspired space like that with men that are talented on more levels than even they know, fostering a collective of ideas that included everyone as equals was, well, honoring.  The return of your creative juices can oftentimes be accompanied by doubt and insecurity in your new ideas, but tonight mine were immediately validated and valued, not to mention molded into a product in less than a few hours.

The immediate connection we had, most people would say is based on the obvious fact that we all appreciate and love to create the same kinds of art through music, but that's just a resultant coincidence.  When you meet people who empathize with part of your soul, that connection is more than a common interest.  You can't describe what exactly it is but you can communicate with these people on a level more fluidly simple than with anyone else.  And the product of that connection means more to you than any listener will ever come close to grasping.

You know those times when you walk outside and just stop?  You just stand there and breathe and appreciate that there is a smile on your face that isn't going anywhere any time soon?  Well tonight as I stood on the steps of the courtyard the rain had turned from a hazing nuisance to a cleansing soak just as I had turned my pent-up emotion, frustration, passion, and anxiety, finally into art.  And as I lay in bed ready to wake up in a few hours for class, I laugh as I find a pencil that had been stuck into the bun on top of my head.  When ideas move that quickly you really do need to have a writing utensil closer than you may think.  And I think I'll leave it.  Who knows what ideas are bound to be scribbled on the pad of paper next to my bed in the morning.

Oh wait, yep, definitely don't have a pad of paper next to my bed.  Whelp, if they didn't want me to write on the walls they would have painted them black instead of white....