Searching For You

C.S. Lewis said, ‘We read to know we are not alone.’

This is also why we listen to music. And, ‘if sad songs say so much’, as Elton John has rightly said, then my songs speak volumes.

This post is about me finding the right fan base for my music.  See, I know I’m not alone out there in what I suffer with major depression, anxiety, borderline personality disorder, chronic pain, suicidal thoughts and everything that goes along with these conditions. In writing this blog, and reading others, I have certain proof that I am not alone. And, yet, we are all uniquely alone in what we individually suffer. My music helps me to express and, in a very magical way, make beauty come from the horrific thing called life/existence. This is my gift. However, in another way, it complicates matters, because, with it, comes the intense frustration, anger, and sadness of not seeming to be able to get my music out there to the people it will most speak to and resonate with.

The thing is, I need a fan base—and I KNOW you’re out there, I’ve even spoken to a good number of you. Now, there are just a whole lot of people who aren’t ever going to like and support my music (even those who rave about my voice and talent), simply because they can’t relate to it.  I need to find those of you who will relate and find some comfort, expression and solidarity in what I do. I know I’m not alone, but I seem to keep pitching my music to the same people who don’t understand what I am going through in my daily life in general. In this way, I need a very specific audience. I know that audience does exist.  And, I truly believe it is an audience that NEEDS a musical voice.

I don’t want this post to just be some advertisement. And, I don’t want it to be me begging for people to check out my music like some sad failed loser of an indie artist. This is simply me putting out a search to see who’s out there in this Blogdom that my music might touch. ‘Hello? Is it me you’re looking for?’

Yes, I know that even for those of us with similar health problems, our musical tastes are not all going to be the same, of course…  but, if you are a music lover, just check my stuff out – if it vibes with you, then great. I do incorporate a wide range of styles in what I write and perform, so there’s a good chance that something I do will hit the spot.

I’ve just released a new studio album for digital download.  No, I am not giving it away for free (giving away my stuff in the past hasn’t helped me gain fans anyway). Musicians have bills to pay, like all craftsmen/craftswomen. I REALLY shouldn’t have to explain this, but in this day and age where musical talent can be faked with software and those of us with real gifts are left in an industry bankrupt and bereft, without a leg to stand on, many of us feel forced to give our lifeblood away in any desperate bid to get noticed. The thing is, most of us literally cannot afford to do it. I cannot afford to do it. Furthermore, it’s worth far more than the modest price I’ve put on it anyway.  I owe it to the other fine musicians and the exceptional producer I worked with to bring this piece of art and labour of love to completion to not just ‘give it away’, as if all our hard work meant nothing. Good music, real music… it costs something.  It costs those of us who make it – it should cost those of you who hear it. It’s part of the deal – it costs us all, but we ALL get so much in return…look at it as an investment. And, finding something you personally can relate to…well, that value cannot be understated or underrated.

So, this album isn’t a freebie, but you can listen to the tracks on bandcamp without paying; however, if you want to own the album and listen whenever and wherever you are, get the special bonus track and extra artwork, as well as support me as an artist (I’ll be eternally grateful), well, then, surely that makes the tiny monetary price a worthy investment.

Thank you for reading and listening. I hope I will hear from you soon.  Most of all, I hope (there’s that four letter word again) my music will reach who will most benefit from hearing it. I’ll finish here and let the songs speak for themselves.

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Observations

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I don’t know if it was turning 40 or what, but I’ve had a couple of observations, realisations, revelations – whatever you want to call it – come to me. And, I’ve been thinking I should write them down, for whatever reason. Posterity, maybe. Thus, I sit here, tablet and stylus in hand, pondering…

First off, as a child, all I wanted to do was grow up. I suppose that’s not terribly different from the desires and mistaken ideas of many children; I was under the impression and assumption that adults were strong and respected. They appeared to be respected, even if they weren’t all that intelligent. I wanted respect.

I saw in the eyes of adults a disdain for childhood and the foolishness of children, and I wanted to be seen as I was. Even then, I had a hatred for stereotypes. I wasn’t the adult I wanted to be, but neither was I truthfully totally a child…

I didn’t always understand that my brain worked differently from other people’s.
What I did know was that my advanced vocabulary and unusual interests kept me isolated (and incomprehensible) to my peers, while my age kept me locked away from a true association with the grown ups I so wanted to be included in.

I was lonely. I learned both to dislike everyone while craving to be liked by everyone.

It has just dawned on me recently that the disdain I saw directed at children by the “high and mighty” adults was, in fact, a mask for jealousy. Oh, they thought it was disdain, but what they really were was jealous of the freedom (the freedom I saw as a prison) of being a child.

They knew what I didn’t (because I didn’t know they were wearing their carefully crafted masks) that age doesn’t bring respect, it doesn’t make you any more likable – or capable. Age brings responsibilities you may or may not be able to handle. It brings knowledge but not necessarily wisdom. It brings a loss of innocence which may at first seem exciting but is really very sad and empty.

I thought I’d be happy when I grew up. I didn’t know I wasn’t made that way. The lonely child, with her strange interests and over developed vocabulary, is the lonely adult who still struggles to find someone to talk to and with which to hang out.

A lot of my problems, I know, stem from mental illness as well as being slightly autistic. I was never going to fit in this world. But, I wish I had enjoyed being a child more. I wish I had known, old is just old, and it’s filled with all the insecurity and pain that childhood is…and worse. And, respect, validation, appreciation – all those things I wanted – are still not there like I was made to believe they would be by the adults who were trying to believe their own bullshit…but, really, knew better.

That’s the first thing…

Observation (or maybe realisation and acceptance) number two: even if I hadn’t married my first husband who did everything in his power to undermine my self esteem, I still would have ended up making bad, destructive, choices with my life. Because, I was that child, that incomprehensible, mentally and emotionally wrecked child who belonged nowhere but longed to be desired and adored. If my ex-husband hadn’t been there, there would’ve been someone else I would’ve gone out of my way to ruin myself (more than I already was) with. One way or another, the damage would’ve been done because I was already the damaged.

For a long time I wished I could’ve escaped – I even thought that I could have had certain things been different, but… it’s like H.G. Wells’ Time Machine… I’d still be here in the condition I find myself, regardless.

What’s the point of this? Not sure. It’s simply something I’ve come to realise. Maybe it’s just the acceptance, another moment to reflect on the insanity of life, and the fucked-uppedness (it’s a word now!) of it all.

The broken child, the wounded adult, the fucked up world.

I wanted to end this on a more positive note. I’m struggling… but, I’m hopeful these observations, and especially the self-discovery, will help me in some way. Sigh…