Early this morning, I lost myself in making music, making sound, making #HeavyFolkNoise
I don’t know that it’s possible to really explain that to anyone who doesn’t, or hasn’t ever, experienced that feeling.
It is far, far from what the television and movies would have us believe is the rapture of creation.
Psychologists call it FLOW.
I know it better as DRIFT.
Drifting on, and in, the sound, at once absent and, at the same time, intensely present.
Metallic strings vibrate under my fingers.
Guitar pick finds the right position and angle to strike.
Anticipation advances harmony emerging from the muse.
Pedals and tones build each moment; oil to the canvas.
The evolving sonic impact of my heart and soul meshes with machine and technology – some vintage analogue, some cutting-edge digital – and all based around an instrument with roots in far-earlier than Medieval times.
And I drift.
#HeavyFolkNoise bears my weight; currents transport me to horizons and beyond.
I drift.
Music removes me and brings me home.
I drift.
All present tense and ancient harmony.
DRIFT.
