Because I Could (Boo!)
A few weekends ago, I discovered that it's remarkably easy to record spooky-sounding, gothic Halloween music, so I wrote and recorded an album of about 20 songs in roughly a week. I was interested in going through the whole process of creating and releasing an album in our digital world, so I resolved to get the album out by the end of the month. Shortly after I finished burning off most of the auditory warts from the final product, I submitted the finished product to Amazon MP3 to be sold as digital downloads.
Two weeks later (just in time for Halloween), the album is up on Amazon available for purchase. (Note: if you're reading this you can download the whole thing for free on the project's Facebook page.)
I have no delusions about this. It's not the greatest album ever written; I originally codenamed the project "The Litany" as a joking reference to how repetitive some of the songs are. The album isn't breaking any musical boundaries and it's not discernibly better than anything else you could buy. I'm pretty sure the project's Amazon page will get a few visitors, who will listen to the 30-second samples, smile politely, and then leave. It will fall between the cracks and will disappear into obscurity as easily as it was created. So, if I knew that all along, why did I bother doing all the work?
Simple: because I could.
Me: I think the citation of "because I could" is perfectly defensible. It's a reason a lot of people hate to hear, because effort for its own sake is the mark of the amateur. There are always reasons not to do things, reasons that lots of people choose to live by, but I think the recognition and acceptance of your own capability are powerful things, and any action that derives from them is even more so.
I'm old enough to remember a time 20 years ago when, if you wanted to record music, but you didn't have a lot of time or money, there was a limit to what you could produce. And even if you could produce it, you were limited in how you could share it. It's old news now, but the rules surrounding the whole music business have been slowly dying off thanks to the Internet.
And with so many rules gone, I look at the new game, I see all the possibilities and think, "Wheeeee! I like this game! Let's play!"
Happy Halloween.
Two weeks later (just in time for Halloween), the album is up on Amazon available for purchase. (Note: if you're reading this you can download the whole thing for free on the project's Facebook page.)
I have no delusions about this. It's not the greatest album ever written; I originally codenamed the project "The Litany" as a joking reference to how repetitive some of the songs are. The album isn't breaking any musical boundaries and it's not discernibly better than anything else you could buy. I'm pretty sure the project's Amazon page will get a few visitors, who will listen to the 30-second samples, smile politely, and then leave. It will fall between the cracks and will disappear into obscurity as easily as it was created. So, if I knew that all along, why did I bother doing all the work?
Simple: because I could.
Me: I think the citation of "because I could" is perfectly defensible. It's a reason a lot of people hate to hear, because effort for its own sake is the mark of the amateur. There are always reasons not to do things, reasons that lots of people choose to live by, but I think the recognition and acceptance of your own capability are powerful things, and any action that derives from them is even more so.
I'm old enough to remember a time 20 years ago when, if you wanted to record music, but you didn't have a lot of time or money, there was a limit to what you could produce. And even if you could produce it, you were limited in how you could share it. It's old news now, but the rules surrounding the whole music business have been slowly dying off thanks to the Internet.
And with so many rules gone, I look at the new game, I see all the possibilities and think, "Wheeeee! I like this game! Let's play!"
Happy Halloween.