Not About to Fade
I'm a late bloomer on the music scene, and my growth has been modest and methodical at best. And you know what? I'm no rockstar, but I feel great about my trajectory. For me, it's all about how not to fade.
I never made any money as a musician til I was 20 years old, and when I did, it was busking in the Montreal subway. I never got paid to do a gig until I was about 24, and when I did, it was passing the hat in Halifax cafes. I never put out an album until I was 33, and when I did, it was a live album recorded in front of 16 people in a rickety old church in Nova Scotia.
I've haven't won a showcase or a songwriting contest yet. I've never had a big review in the Star or the Globe. I've never headlined a festival; in fact I've rarely done a solo set on a main stage. I'm nearly 37 and I still pass the hat at cafes...
On the other hand, I've had some great things happen to me. I've written the theme song for a major television production, won "best music" for the soundtrack to a canoeing film, hosted the Gordon Lightfoot Tribute series for 4 years, and hosted and played at a fairly impressive list of festivals. I've gotten a bit of a name "on the scene" and have been able to contribute to a community I believe in in a wide variety of ways.
I'm not a sprinter. Someone told me once I was like the Second Law of Thermodynamics: it takes a lot to get me going, but once I'm going it's impossible to slow me down. And so I find myself within shouting distance of 40, my youth fading behind me, and a surprising feeling of accomplishment surging through my veins.
I always loved music with all my heart. I was always a creative and an expressive person, and I've manifested that in many ways, in many media. But as much as I loved to write and to sing and to perform, I'd be the first to admit it's not what I'm best at.
And yet, it's what I've returned to, time and time again. It's what I've sacrificed for, and suffered for, and struggled through. I've gone from dreaming of glory to carefully considering practical plans to just keep at it, and it's never been easy.
Still, it's never been wrong, and it's never been so hard I've had to stop and give up and go home. I've seen greater lights than me shine brightly, then fade, then go out all together. And I've learned to let my own small light shine steadily. I work hard not to flicker and flare.
I'm sometimes in the darkness, and often in the shadows of others. I'm never the main attraction and I'm mostly a role player, a journeyman who's banking on being a veteran, not a fancy dancer who can dazzle with his brilliance.
But I'm strong on the puck. It's hard to knock me off my game. I've got a steady stride and wicked determination. I'm strong and getting stronger. I'm a great team player part, part chaplain, part clown, part apprentice and part mentor, and I'm giving it my whole heart.
I am still going, still growing, still glowing, and I am not about to fade!
Thanks for listening...
David.
I never made any money as a musician til I was 20 years old, and when I did, it was busking in the Montreal subway. I never got paid to do a gig until I was about 24, and when I did, it was passing the hat in Halifax cafes. I never put out an album until I was 33, and when I did, it was a live album recorded in front of 16 people in a rickety old church in Nova Scotia.
I've haven't won a showcase or a songwriting contest yet. I've never had a big review in the Star or the Globe. I've never headlined a festival; in fact I've rarely done a solo set on a main stage. I'm nearly 37 and I still pass the hat at cafes...
On the other hand, I've had some great things happen to me. I've written the theme song for a major television production, won "best music" for the soundtrack to a canoeing film, hosted the Gordon Lightfoot Tribute series for 4 years, and hosted and played at a fairly impressive list of festivals. I've gotten a bit of a name "on the scene" and have been able to contribute to a community I believe in in a wide variety of ways.
I'm not a sprinter. Someone told me once I was like the Second Law of Thermodynamics: it takes a lot to get me going, but once I'm going it's impossible to slow me down. And so I find myself within shouting distance of 40, my youth fading behind me, and a surprising feeling of accomplishment surging through my veins.
I always loved music with all my heart. I was always a creative and an expressive person, and I've manifested that in many ways, in many media. But as much as I loved to write and to sing and to perform, I'd be the first to admit it's not what I'm best at.
And yet, it's what I've returned to, time and time again. It's what I've sacrificed for, and suffered for, and struggled through. I've gone from dreaming of glory to carefully considering practical plans to just keep at it, and it's never been easy.
Still, it's never been wrong, and it's never been so hard I've had to stop and give up and go home. I've seen greater lights than me shine brightly, then fade, then go out all together. And I've learned to let my own small light shine steadily. I work hard not to flicker and flare.
I'm sometimes in the darkness, and often in the shadows of others. I'm never the main attraction and I'm mostly a role player, a journeyman who's banking on being a veteran, not a fancy dancer who can dazzle with his brilliance.
But I'm strong on the puck. It's hard to knock me off my game. I've got a steady stride and wicked determination. I'm strong and getting stronger. I'm a great team player part, part chaplain, part clown, part apprentice and part mentor, and I'm giving it my whole heart.
I am still going, still growing, still glowing, and I am not about to fade!
Thanks for listening...
David.
Labels: confidence, music, performance, songwriting
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