Ladies and gentlemen, we have Amy Millan of Stars, pouring her soul into song. There is no feeling more exquisite--simultaneously draining and invigorating than singing with all of one's heart. Onstage, a real performer should be effervescent, captivating and genuine. The lilt of the music should suspend time in the air, shaping it like a phrase and halting its urgency. Real music has a stronger hold on us than does the relentless march of time. Great music has the power to caress every doubt we harbour, to ignite passionate thought and (most of all) to penetrate our skin and live within our very tissue.
I miss it so much.
so much.
Cause somehow, my ability to create such a phenomenon has gotten lost in the shuffle of the year. I do not know how to get back on track. I hate this. For the past 3 years, I've worn a silver elephant bracelet that was given to me by my former voice teacher, Susan. It was a going away to university present, and I wear it as a constant reminder to keep music as a priority, a primary joy. Right now I feel as though I can't rightly wear it. I've sold it out for less-meaningful, banal responsibilities. I'm not feeling good about this.
I don't know where to start... but man I miss that feeling, that out-of-body sensation that occurs when fingers bleed music though a piano, and when voice rises and falls in response.
For now I will just have to listen. It's gotta come back someday soon.
That spring might be gearing up to arrive. As much as spring = uncertainty for a lot of us (i.e. job hunting, summer activities, geographic location) it is still eagerly awaited. Although spring has teased us for weeks now, I think it means business this time.
