It sometimes seems that music is my one reprieve from an otherwise somber life. Looking back, I want to clap a hand on the back of the awkward, dumpy, and insecure eleven year old lad for first picking up a flute at Westview Middle School’s band night; not to mention sticking with it for three years despite arduous and unrelenting slights on his sexual orientation. This isn’t to say that my life is subpar by any means. On the contrary, I’m thankful every day for my exceptional family and friends, and it is because of them I count myself extremely fortunate. At the same time, it’s an unfortunate habit of mine to fall into the occasional disconsolate frame of mind for one reason or another, which brings me back to why I play. As my remarkably insightful flute instructor says, music is created through the emotion and passion put in by the musician. Without emotion, even the most technically sound composition, even when played flawlessly, fails to move an audience. “Make them cry.” Mrs. Spidel tells me. Ironically, I tend to inflict this response on myself when practicing in my empty church sanctuary or a locked practice room of the Colorado State UAC. Everyone needs an outlet. This is one of the reasons I’d love to pursue a job opportunity at the local Renaissance festival. I can think of nothing better than expressing the joy of an Irish reel or the sadness of a Scottish hymn to other faire goers who expected nothing more than raunchy stage shows and a greasy turkey leg. Music is the language of the soul. I usually try and refrain from using clichés such as this, but they are cliché for a reason. I find that being able to pour my heart into whatever I’m playing is an unparalleled sort of therapy that can’t be replicated by laying on a Freudian couch relaying conscious feelings and having them interpreted as subconscious drives I could have inferred on my own by perusing any of my assorted psychology textbooks. “Make them cry.” I’ll probably end up shedding a tear of my own.
Just for shits and giggles. Cover of “Within the Grove” by Eluveitie.
Greg Pattillo is fantastic. I’m hoping to go to the national flute convention in Las Vegas this year and attend his workshop. Just. Glorious.
Drew Robinson’s Irish flute. I’m hopefully getting a new model he recently designed.
Almost lost it today after my roommate left for work. This is me venting. For those inclined to listen, I might suggest turning your volume down.
Have some Devienne.
…I found my old student flute and all my old music this morning. I’m not sure how I ever thought I’d be productive before class.