Music has a way of demanding authenticity. I’m compelled by a child’s rendition of a song because of its sincerity, but I’m unmoved by even the most accomplished musician offering an automated performance, which leads me to believe that I’m connecting with something more than just the notes.

Soul. That’s it. And you can’t really fake soul. I know because I’ve tried many times in different ways–certain songs I’ve written have come out mutated by my attempt to sound like someone else’s soul. Which reminds me of a part in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. The loose paraphrase is: if you want to be a good painter, live a good life and then paint.

When I play music, it has a way of amplifying my inner state, whether at peace or agitated. So if I’m going to perform and allow soul to come out, I’m bringing the soul I’ve got right now, for better or worse.

And I’ve been aware recently of the soul of songs. Playing in a band, delivering a song week after week, eventually you discover that the song has demands too. You bring your own energy and take on the world and so does the song.

One of the challenges then, is finding ways to tap into the soul of a song the hundredth time you play it. You’re no longer young lovers. Adrenalin alone won’t push the song out, and you’re forced to give and take in the relationship. You channel into the core of the song, and find ways to bring it new.

It’s also enthralling to start thinking about a song like Moonshiner that is hundreds of years old and has been in relationships with millions of people. I shiver at the thought of how much soul lies in its core.

This entry was posted on Saturday, March 4th, 2006 at 6:37 pm and is filed under Journal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.