“Without music, life would be a mistake.” -Friedrich Nietzsche-
In the last post I talked about facing your fears and challenging yourself to go outside your comfort zone, after all outside the feel-good-zone is where the magic happens. The studio has never been outside my comfort zone. Sure, I’ve been a shy rookie, silent and withdrawn. Once somebody actually asked me in the studio if I just had been singing cause he couldn’t hear me. I must have been red from head to toe after that.
However awkward I was the first time I stepped in to do my thing, and however unsure of myself and my thing I still feel in that first moment, the studio for me brings a certain peace to my soul. I love the part when you get to lock yourself into the singing booth, to just let go. I’ve danced, I’ve cried, I’ve laughed, I’ve screamed both silently and out loud. It’s fun, it’s painful, it’s all the reasons in the world to do music. The love I feel for the craft is a love so powerful, that when the boys first called me and asked me to join my first band ever (like 100 years ago!) I ended the conversation with a lump in my throat. I knew it was something I had to do, I was scared as hell, but I was pretty sure of what would follow, no that it would take me to where I am today, but that it was a path I would walk.
In school I would envy the violin playing girl who seemed to be a multi-talent what came to music. She was an awesome violinist as 9 years old already, and I mean mind-blowing awesome. On top of that she could sing as well and then one day she sat down at the piano in the gymnastics hall and played the most beautiful classical piece my ears had heard. I was baffled and in love from that first second. The sound of the piano, the flow, even the movement of the fingers. I used to watch her play and track her fingers and just hope that I would catch even a tiniest bit of what she played and to one day be able to play like that. To me it looked like she just put her hands on whatever instrument she could find and it would obey her. I wanted that. Now years later I still have no idea of what the piece was, but I can still remember where she put her hands when she started.