I'm not the best ___________, but . . .

Over the past week I have been very inspired by my sister Tracy's debut recording project,  "Squirrel On a Wire."  Watching these songs take shape has been a slow process - words were conjured and later changed, melodies revised, chords substituted, keys changed, arrangements devised.  Hundreds of hours of work, for six songs.

The sound world is so hard to pin down - it can't be seen or touched and how something is played is just as important as what the note or word happens to be.  Each note is scrutinized - first when it is written, later when it is revised, and again when it is recorded.  It will be reviewed yet again before it is pressed closer to permanence.

This project has been especially interesting because of the number of instruments and musical styles involved: guitars, trumpet, accordion, harmonica, multiple vocal layers, electric bass, percussion, and even a string quartet. 

The players came and went over five days, while slowly, painstakingly, the recording was assembled like a patchwork quilt.  Little scraps were stitched together into a sum far greater than their parts. 

Art is amazing.  Humans are amazing.  Recording technology, which makes sound waves into little digital bits that then turn back into soundwaves, is like a miracle from another world. 

When musicians who have never even met play in perfect recorded harmony, I am at a complete loss for words.

Sometimes when I work on a project, I notice little sub-themes that appear and re-appear.  Often they are not the main focus - ie. "now I am going to make a cd containing 6 songs I have written" - they are slightly "off topic" but interesting nonetheless.

In the case of "Squirrel On a Wire," one of those emerging themes was "I'm not the best _________, but . . . ". Usually it was a musician commenting on their own lack of technical perfection.  We all have holes in our musicianship with which we are unhappy.  It's part of being human. 

But what I find very interesting is that musicians who say "I'm not the best __________, but . . ." are really saying that they find music-making so inescapably compelling that playing is not a choice.  It is a vocation, and although they are keenly aware of their own imperfections, the joy of making music remains.  It's not about perfection, it's about the joy.

And I think that really came through for me this week:  musicians can be a lonely breed.  We spend so many hours alone, practicing our instruments and chasing the sounds around in our heads.  And often we are quite self-critical.  But even if you're not the best _____________, you still have the capacity to play, for your own joy and hopefully to share a bit of it with others.