mrs. representing

"There is something suspicious about music, gentlemen. I insist that she is, by her nature, equivocal. I shall not be going too far in saying at once that she is politically suspect. "- Thomas Mann

The day before I leave for our Connecticut rehearsal retreat, my phone rings. It's Andrew.
"Yo, I think I may have gotten us a gig. The woman seemed into it. But she wants a bio, and a cover letter...you know, like a press kit."
Press. Kit.
My heart sinks into my chest at the thought of these two words, though they are so commonplace. Not only because they conjure up images of grueling hours spent compiling information and statistics, composing eloquent-yet-hip descriptions of my music. Not only because they are a foray into the world of marketing, of press, the business of selling, the ranking orders of the industry. Not only because of my fear of having an "image". It sinks because I fear that the current method of career advancement in the music industry betrays the very equivocal nature of music that I so adore.

Let's back up. I HAD actually been working on a bio for the band, in anticipation of trying to book venues. But anything I wrote down, I hated. Any description turned long winded and began sounding more than a little pretentious. When it came to characterizing and classifying my music, I was running into a serious wall. How does one describe music that can jump from classical string quartet to ska to choral to rock to disco and to electronica, all in the course of a few minutes? I loathe to compare myself to other particular artists, as I fear this will give my audience a preconceived notion of my style, or imply that I want to emulate said artist. Of course it is impossible to avoid sounding similar to others, due to the homogeneous nature of what most modern humans have been musically exposed to. However, at the core of every song I am attempting to do something new, to the best of my abilities. So how can I justify description and classification of my work?

These difficulties led me to some serious internal questioning. What if the problem wasn't indescribable music, but the lack of a particular musical "voice" in general on my part? What if I was just being stubborn? Can all music be classified in some way? Is there a subconscious rejection of music that has been classified as a genre that we don't particularly like? Could this stupid bio prevent my music from being heard?
Luckily, I didn't have time for all of this soul-searching. I hung up the phone with Andrew, and began scrambling to complete the Resume of Doom....

24 hours and one gargantuan, puffed up piece of pretentiousness later, we got the gig. I felt like I had just gotten into Harvard. In retrospect, I probably needn't have gone into panic mode over so simple a procedure. But stress ensued when I felt suddenly stricken by the responsibility to not only sell my music, but to sell the IDEA of my music. All of the photo shoots, statistics, and press coverage in the world can't fully capture the experience of listening to an artist for the first time. And in this modern era, isn't that experience easily achieved with the click of a mouse? Why has music become so far removed from the simple act of listening to it?

The answer, in my opinion, lies in the business aspect of the current music world. Music, to most large record companies and producers, is a product. The goal of these companies is to sell as much product as possible. When marketing a product, businesses want to convince you to purchase in as little time as possible. Visual imagery and genre descriptions allow the brain to create a mental image of the product much more easily than having to spend time listening and discerning its own meaning from enigmatic aural sensations. As companies compete with each other for market share, music imagery becomes sexier, sleeker, and over-powering, while the quality of music itself suffers. Understandably, it is easier to hook consumers on your product if you make an immediate primal connection with them by using sexual imagery. But doing so removes the musical experience from the realm of time, which is completely contradictory to the very definition of music, and which is exactly the aim of such imagery.

I too am guilty of wanting to sell. But I will strive to do it honestly, and humbly. I hope that someday, music can successfully be marketed as an auditory and emotional experience.

In The Beginning....

There was music.

Mary of Egypt was, initially, something that was supposed to get out of my system. I have spent my whole life with music, and always have had this nagging urge to create "artistically valid" pop music. During adolescence and early adulthood, the institutionalized, formal, and hierarchical music world gave me the impression that such a mainstream desire was fruitless, contrary to the notion of artistry, and ultimately incompatible with my musical growth. However, the very communities that might foster these biases are teeming with individuals who, after playing Beethoven, Bach, Coltrane, Mozart, Monk, and Stravinsky all day will return to their own homes, or perhaps gather together, and choose to listen to the Beatles, to Radiohead, to Bjork.

"Why is this the case?" I asked myself, as you should ask. Why do such highly trained musicians have a tendency to love the musical "dark side" in their private moments? I confess I may not know the full answer, but I suspect that it has something to do with emotional response. The personal, informal, and community oriented pop/rock music genre is easily understood; one needs no formal training for it to cut to the emotional quick. It just feels good. Make no mistake, I did not become a socialist realist, for I do not believe that accessibility and intellectual merit are mutually exclusive. I do not want to dumb down music, and I do not want to over-complicate it. I aim for somewhere in the middle.

There are many pop artists who are lauded for their complexity, intellectual construction, and innovation. There are also many who are chastised by formally trained musicians for their repetitiveness, ultra-simplified methods, and lack of foresight. On the other hand, there are many classical and jazz musicians/composers who have the awesome power of deep communication with a listener, just as there are many similar artists who might be called elitist, inaccessible, and downright snobby.

I believe that the best of both worlds is possible, and that in fact the best of both worlds is the very definition of a true music for humanity- the most aesthetically pleasing music contains not only easily discernible emotional intent but a formal, intellectual scope- both musical aspects must be present for a piece of music to be useful to the world.

After writing my first couple of songs, I heard so many positive remarks regarding this very issue. Listeners are happy to hear something that simultaneously interests their ear and moves their spirit. I have been so fortunate and grateful to have a group of phenomenal players who not only agreed to perform my growing collection of music, but who have put in countless hours of their own time in its preparation and the logistics entailed. What began as one traveling microphone has evolved into a living breathing organism, as Mary of Egypt embarks upon the final stretch of preparations for live debut.

What was supposed to get out of my system now defines my very musical ethics, my artistic ideology, and my life, which has always been and will always be dedicated to the pursuit of musical excellence.