Songs To Float

Finally, after days, I found the mental space to write a new blog entry. I’m not sure what to say to captivate the reader in the first few lines. I can’t put my thoughts in order until I write them down, so let’s figure it out as we go. I’ll do my best to capture you.

Writing a song takes a lot of silence. I sat in the library for a few hours the other day, looking for a good chorus. I’m currently focusing on producing some songs in Spanish to add them to the setlist.

And that’s an intentional choice of words: looking for. Because I don’t really feel like I come up with any of this. I’ve come to realize that we are just channels for things that already exist. Being creative is a spiritual act, and anyone can do it. 

A lot of the time, artists talk about their creative process as this epic, almost cinematic experience, where a ray of light is shed on them—the chosen ones—to bring magic to the rest of us mortals. As if inspiration came only to a selected group of geniuses.

There you have the mystery of creation, I guess! Don’t be fooled, it’s not such a big deal. At least, it doesn’t feel like one from the inside.

For me, it’s simply sitting in silence. I don’t always need a piano; pen and paper are enough. I prefer to take myself out of the equation.

I believe writing songs is more about receiving. Being creative in general comes from allowing things to happen in the present. I’ve written a lot of songs in the shower or while going for a walk.

Some messages are meant to be delivered, whether we like it or not. Sometimes they come in the shape of a song, and if you’re lucky enough to be in tune at that exact moment, you’ll be able to capture it.

That doesn’t mean locking yourself away from the world, though. I’m not talking about meditation; I’m not a big fan of that. I mean, you’re supposed to live a lot of life. Sometimes you have to go out there to “catch the big fish”, like David Lynch. It’s mostly a very beautiful thing, but it can also be a nightmare. At times these messages feel like acid reflux. They torture you until you get them out correctly.

That’s why I accept the intellectual property of my songs but not the full credit. Maybe that’s also why I’ve never connected with certain ways of making music: how could you possibly create something moving when it takes five people to write a three-line chorus? Impossible.

That’s why I keep searching for silence. And I think that, in a figurative sense, everyone else is. I’m not sure how many readers are reading this post at the moment, or how many of my listeners actually listen to the songs till the end—probably not many. But I see a big change coming that could raise my music higher.

So far, it’s been a big challenge to find gigs, honestly. I keep being told that people want to listen to something they already know, that my songs are very strange, or that I don’t really fit into the venue’s style.

My music is for everyone, and I wish I had the opportunity to prove it. People are hungry for meaning, for something real and human. Emotion is kinetic energy—it moves people out of their heads and off their screens, and back into the life they’ve always had. I’d really love to contribute to that, doing it my way.

I want my songs to float.

May H.