At some point it became business.
Now, let me explain.
I used to love music ( I STILL love music) but I used to just be able to sit and listen. There was just what it was. I’d put a song on, let it play, and it was face value. It was a good song. and I only heard it as such.
But now, I am growing up.
I’ve been doing all this study. Becoming a musician in my own right. and suddenly songs aren’t song. Songs are parts. and people. and ideas. and business. I take them apart like onions. layer by layer. not intentionally, It just happens. it just is a thing that occurs. It’s not even intentional. I hear the mix. the choice of effects. the vocal layers. The studio tricks. I can’t hear the song anymore for the parts.
it’s bizarre.
It’s become business. I study the goings on behind the scenes. I learn about the industry. I learn backstroy. I try to see what I can take to make myself better.
It’s a climb. and I am excited about it. I am interested in all facets. Except recording. Fuck that. It’s like guitar pedals. or mathematics. Too many numbers. too much to figure out.
Bands are people. Human beings. I meet them. I am suddenly on level footing. I am learning the entertainment business. Trying to pick up as much as i can from as many places as I can. and forever meeting people. Actors are people. I meet them. and we hang out.
It’s all just people. Music. TV.
and I love people. I am good at people.
Somewhere in here is my calling, and I’m gonna find it. I’m stumbling in the right direction. That, at least, I am sure of. It makes sense. the world makes sense. The songs make sense. The parts. I can see them now. It’s a damn crazy thing.
In other news, I shouldn’t even be typing. I was struck down with carpal tunnel syndrome, or some such nonsense. I can’t play or practice at all. But I keep learning. in the other areas. Management, marketing, promotions.
What the hell am I even blabbing about. I have another Con Saturday.
Out and about with Space Ghost.
Living life one day at a time.
Thanks. For being you. and spending time with me.
Someplace’s own,
HH
Horace Holloway 