Good Morning

This is probably the definition of a great Saturday morning listen. Light cracking through the slits in the blinds, with a cup of tea in hand and heavy, cold clouds on the horizon. I mean the music's great too, but lately I've been wondering about my own taste in songs. I'm not sure if what I love is as much a product of the sounds themselves as where my head is at the time I hear them. I haven't been very excited about music in any context for months now. There hasn't been much redemption in playing, writing, or humming along to anything I've heard, and maybe that's just because a large part of me doesn't care about finding perfection in some created thing. Reading that, I realize how little sense it makes. I guess what I'm trying to say is that there is so much subjectivity to being creative, and yet it's amazing the number of ways we manage to try and quantify it. This song is good, this song is bad, this song is predestined as un-cool. I snub that attitude and yet I feel myself steeped in it constantly. It's too hard not to subconsciously sum up what I feel about art in a soundbite or a mental thumbs down.

What I want is to be excited about music because it meets me where I'm at. I'm looking at the sky, my friend's face when he laughs, the movement of gravel under my shoes and I realize this song completes an experience I'm already having in my head. Caught in the Trees is absolutely doing just that this morning...without being an altogether amazing album or showcasing some jaw-dropping set of musicianship and vocal prowess. It's simple and just what I needed. Plus it's albums like this leave leave me with the feeling that I have some hope left as a musician.