busbee
Rest Peacefully
Rest Peacefully
There’s nothing not to like about Billie Eilish’s album. It’s tasty. Sonically pleasing. Interesting. But while recognition is deserved for breaking records, high sales, sold our shows and crying blood I can’t help but wonder if an artist’s accomplishments are more outstanding — judged more favorably just because the artist is…young.
My husband Adam annointed Suzan Koc “my Wife” a number of years ago when I had asked him to choose between this dress or that one or something like that. Actually I think I wanted to know if my butt looked flat in a pair of jeans. He told me his opinion. And then I questioned it. So he said…”Why don’t you ask your wife.” I knew exactly who he meant.
Nobody stays on top forever. That’s why they call it “15 Minutes.” And when your shelf-life has diminished you might wish you did something about the future of your bank account back when you had the chance to change the system. So when the younger gens have taken over you’ll have savings. And you can stay in your house. Perhaps even buy another.
A Muse is a medium we seek to connect with. But she’s hardest to beckon when you need her the most. And if she finally pays a visit you can’t put your hands on her or your arms around her. You’d be foolish to beg her to stay.
If you’re an uber Beatles fan like moi, having a peek inside Abbey Road has got to be on your bucket list. And feasting your eyes on “Studio Two” where their most iconic songs were recorded would be the cherry on top. Right? Well, sometimes luck is on your side.
In a culture where songs are here today gone tomorrow, a songwriter has come to appreciate (more accurately cherish) a lasting copyright, or as we call them, “evergreen songs,” — ones that seem to keep regenerating and replenishing themselves. This is one of those moments.
Once upon a time we depended on music to communicate to lawmakers. Music was a powerful and emotional tool. And it was Art. Musicians were Artists! It was their job. Luckily Bob and Joni didn’t have to worry about losing Facebook friends or attracting trolls.
Maybe the part of our souls that gets caught up in a multi-tasking day to day grind longs for a more intimate under the stars experience now and then with some fresh air, twinkling lights and the company of a community (old and new) coming together through…music.
To have someone who is perfectly capable of writing her own iconic material, someone you’ve put on a pedestal your whole life, someone who’s blazed the trail for so many women, make a choice to record YOUR song is a songwriter’s dream.
The Beatles are the ultimate common thread — the timeless hub around which all music lovers revolve. We can disagree about politics, cuisine and couture but I think we all see eye to eye when it comes to the Beatles.
Spotify professes to be our friend — a champion of the creator — the birther of the “Spotify Secret Genius” — a manufactured honor conceived to pander to our egos and a title that is now so laughably transparent. For a service that preaches the value of music and the people who create it, they sure are trying pretty hard to f*ck us over…as covertly as possible.
Last week as I s-curved across Mulholland Drive, top down/wind in my face (in a Don Henley song), appreciating Los Angeles for all its curves and waves, knowing it’s where my village is, my zen, my professional community, I asked myself for the first time since I moved west if I could move back east. NY is better for my mind. LA is easier on my bones. What’s a girl to do?
Are only the most popular superstars worthy of recognition for outstanding work in their field? Given the current environment, that line of thinking seems antiquated. I propose we make some more room for the non-conventional self-releasing artiste.
Do you remember where you were the first time you heard “Your Song?” I do. I was sitting on my friend Hope’s bedroom floor when she put the needle to the vinyl. I was like…What was that? Where were you?