Hi friend,
One of the things I love about songwriting is that we don’t have to have the answers. We can be vague, explore without finality and describe a vibe rather than a solution.
Before I became ill I thought my purpose was to be an academic researcher. I was always told I was intelligent and that academia would be the right place for me. My heart said something completely different — it wanted to create — but nobody saw that side of me and I don’t blame them, because I didn’t show it.
I also tried out coaching for a few years after I became ill and my brain was too inflamed for academia. But my heart wasn’t in it either. I hated being hired to help people find solutions and a way forward, I would rather just describe what they were going through and help them accept who they are and what they were feeling and maybe even explore new perspectives.
In my last album I explored the question “What happens when a body slowly breaks and there is no one there to help?” I explored themes of grief, nostalgia, longing stigma and discrimination.
I didn’t rationally sit down and say to myself “Ok, let’s explore this question now,” it was rather a subconscious question that was present at the back of my mind.
In my forthcoming album, I’m exploring another central question:
“What does it mean to rebuild a life when illness, loss or fate has taken away the life you were supposed to have?”
While I haven’t recovered in any way, I have found healing and stability. I have come to terms with the illness, but have more hope than ever. I have let go of anger and bitterness, but am still grieving. I have found a sense of worth even though most would consider a person like me a burden on society.
It’s time to rebuild… but what does that mean when I haven’t recovered? How do we still process all the loss that has come with this illness? Who are the ones left behind in all this chaos? How do we grieve the futures we never got to live?
I don’t want to answer these questions, simply explore the many facets of them.
I want to share a snippet of a demo of a song from the forthcoming album. It’s called Seventy Falling Stars and is a song about finding hope in the darkest of places:
I am moving ahead with my album. My brother has recorded all the piano and some of the accordion accompaniment. In October my drummer will be recording all percussion and then I have to reach out to a bass player and a cellist. After that my brother may need to redo some piano, add the remaining accordion, and I have to redo a lot of the vocals.
My last album took four years to record, mainly because I was too ill most of the time to do anything and had to wait for good energy and voice days which only came around a few times a year. I also had to record only a line or verse at a time from bed or reclinable wheelchair.
Now I can sit upright at the piano and microphone and sing. While I can get through an entire song, it doesn’t sound great towards the end as I run of steam, so I often have to record over several different days. Some days my voice just doesn’t work and I’ll have to wait for a better day.
Nevertheless, I am getting more and more excited about this project!
Tell me…
What questions are you asking yourself at the moment?
How do you process loss or grief?
Are you working on any creative projects at the moment?
I’d love to know in the comments!
Have you listened to Where Cold Hearts Go To Pray?
Where Cold Hearts Go To Pray is a song about wanting to escape the pain and retreat into your own sacred space.
All proceeds will go to Open Medicine Foundation for vital ME/CFS and Long Covid research. Please consider purchasing on Bandcamp to support the cause.
