Life Lessons from the Recording Studio

Context: I'm working on an album of original Jewish music. I wrote the tunes and am arranging them (i.e. giving them shape, texture, and form) with an amazingly gifted musician/producer/friend named Will Roberston as well as a cast of unbelievably talented characters including Jamie Kudlats, Guy Strauss, Bob Michek, and Kendrick Phillips. It's my first time in the recording studio in any meaningful way and I'm finding the process to be very enlightening. As is often the case, a particular venue or set of experiences ends up being a microcosm of "life in general." That's proving to be true of the recording studio. So here are a few life lessons I attribute to the recording studio... This list is totally incomplete and not in any particular order, but here goes. I'm writing this post for two reasons: 1) to chronicle my own experiences and 2) with the hopes that it will resonate with others, even if they haven't ever recorded an album of original Jewish music!

1. The power of collaboration. I wrote a bunch of tunes. Good for me. Pat on the back. But the truth is that the music could never realize its full potential (if such a thing is ever possible) without the partnership and involvement of others. My role as "songwriter" isn't to cram a fully realized musical vision down peoples' throats, but rather to elicit the creativity, generosity, talents, and energies of others. My role is to facilitate and celebrate collaboration. And though the process is still unfolding, I can say with absolute certainty that openness to collaboration has radically impacted every level of this recording project, from the songs themselves to the musicians involved. Rather than being simply about recording music, collaboration has made this project about creating music, exploring music, celebrating music, and building relationships and community through music. Collaboration has made this a holy process, which, given the content of the music, is wholly appropriate.

2. Humility. Someone once attributed the following quote to Jewish tradition in a letter I received:

"The adornment of knowledge is wisdom, the adornment of wisdom is humility." 

     If ever there were words to live by! Far from being a kind of self-abasement, true humility is the recognition that, vast though our individual gifts may be, what's ours alone is not enough. Humility is what allows us to seek out people who have greater experience than we do. It's what allows us to apprentice ourselves, to learn from others, to be grateful, and to be open-minded. Humility is the capacity to learn and the ability to celebrate (rather than fear or attempt to hide) all that you don't yet know. It also means recognizing that there are some things you may never be able to do at the level you'd like (though it doesn't mean abandoning the pursuit!). For example, humility means recognizing that a song may sound better with another lead vocalist even though it's "your" song, or that, actually, there's someone out there who can play a better guitar part. Humility is what transforms a potential inadequacy into a strength. Not only is humility an "adornment" of wisdom, but it is also a prerequisite.

3. Ego is a double-edged sword. It would be hard to write songs without an ego. It would be hard to have the nerve to believe that the songs I write with a guitar in my home when no one else is around have any value beyond being a nice hobby... without an ego. It would be hard to set aside time from my amazing family (and my 3 month old daughter in particular) to go into a recording studio to produce these songs without an ego. You get the point. And yet, as we all know, ego is truly a double-edged sword. Ego is responsible for all sorts of mishaps, musical and otherwise. Ego can be a stumbling block, it can make you blind, it can make you fearful, and it can lead you astray. Rather than ennobling you and filling your life with a sense of purpose, it can cuckold and trap you. If the songs I've written have any life whatsoever, it will be because the collaborative process has keep the question of ego in the fore. If my ego were unchecked then the songs themselves would have no room to grow, mature, and evolve. Being as conscious as possible of ego is the first step in making sure that ego works for you and not against you.

4. Music is metaphysical. "Metaphysical" is a big word and I'm not sure I fully understand it (but here goes...). For me music is metaphysical because it starts with the physical-- bodies, musical instruments, voices, guitars, etc... but quickly moves beyond the purely physical. The minute you hit record and start editing, music becomes metaphysical. Yesterday Will Roberston did an awesome thing: he wrote an entire choral arrangement and recorded it completely himself. Hearing Will's voice singing 10 different parts simultaneously helped me to understand that music is indeed metaphysical. The fact that you can detach your voice from your vocal chords and sing along with yourself x10 through the act of recording means that music is metaphysical. Also, the fact that Will can write a 10 part chorale arrangement wherein all the different parts blend and complement one another creating an absolutely magnificent and glorious soundscape-- this wouldn't be possible if there weren't laws of harmony and melody that came, if not from God, then certainly from some realm other than the purely physical. I really believe this, and feel sad for anyone that hasn't ever sensed something metaphysical (musical or otherwise). I guess that's what metaphysical means-- something is metaphysical when it attests to the fact that there's a bigger picture to the world than physical, material stuff of our existence. Music is metaphysical, so is love, community, laughter, the connection between generations, and a bunch of other stuff. Seek and ye shall find I suppose!

Well, that's all for now. I've already exceeded my self-imposed word limit. It is great writing for an "imagined audience." It provides a strangely metaphysical motivation to articulate some of these random thoughts.