Once upon a time a little boy sang thank god I found you. His sister said shut up, you suck. And he kept singing. Then his mom said, Kirk you really sound awful. And he didn’t sing for many years after that. Finally one day he said fuck it and started singing everywhere, all the time, come hell or high water, to hell with everyone else. He took voice lessons. He was in choir, although he only ever lip synched because he tended to sing flat and didn’t trust his ability to hear. There were many reasons to give it a rest, but the desire never stopped. Why? Your singing voice is so embarrassingly intimate. This boy could not be embarrassed. He had no shame. And would not be shamed by others. Say what you like. One day he found an appropriate venue for his singing. It was called YouTube. This is where he tried to exorcise his demons, but he was stabbing at ghosts. There’s really nothing wrong with a person’s voice that isn’t psychological. If you can sing you can talk. Don’t strike that, but reverse it. Tone deafness is very rare. Taste. Tone. Tension. Faulty habits. Fears. Focus. Such hard work to do something that’s for fun and expression. Kind of like ballet. Or life. Well conceptually it’s like an autobiographical youtube musical. The intentions aren’t as simple as making something to please. Something you would like. Dissonance. Is. Real. If the aliens come and we’re all dead, the artifacts we leave behind won’t tell the whole story. I think making things for this reason, as opposed to commercial reasons; on your own, as opposed to in a market; for the sake of the process as opposed to the product, is a different project. But maybe it doesn’t matter if no one’s listening.
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