The goal is making life more musical.
Sometimes that requires instruments. Sometimes those cost a whole lot of money. Sometimes not. Sometimes you can get a deal. Sometimes you make a deal. Sometimes you want that deal. Other times, you don’t. Sometimes you get to choose.
You get out of it what you put into it. Sometimes that’s money. Most of the time, it isn’t. Most of the time, if you’re lucky, any money at all changes hands.
Sometimes you have to put in years of practice. Sometimes not so much. If you’re really, really lucky, you’ll seem like you must have done a lot of practicing, even if you never even wanted to do that. That’s just how it goes.
You can spend years “practicing” things and never really get it. If you don’t dig it, a lot of other peoples’ music can hit you that way. But even you still practiced. Some. Others aggravate you with that out of the box intuitive “feel” for the thing. It’s a crap shoot, for sure. But you know where you stand, if you really ever know it at all, while the dice are still cold in your hand.
Sometimes, though, you don’t need to worry over any of that. It ain’t, as they say, Carnegie Hall. Even if it is, you know, a fresh scuff mark on the stage probably won’t be remembered as long as you think anyway.
You just need to open your mouth, clap your hands, move your feet, or even just nod your eyelids. Let the energy of community (and commune with whomever or whatever you like, there’s no reason to limit your inclusiveness without a damned good reason) match with your heartbeat. Once they’re in sync, you can slow both of ’em down (or speed ’em up) to whatever best suits you.
Then sing your ass off – all the time. Don’t ever drop the mic.
Wait. I take that back. If you’ve ever actually PAID for a great microphone, you damned sure know better than to let that thing hit the floor. Get real. And keep it that way. As if you had a choice, anyway. This isn’t pretend.
21 NOV 2025
© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.
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