The little song is the first song you write. It clings to your sweater, fogs up your mirrors, and whispers into your ears as you stroll through the market. In the night, it swirls above you as you watch the stars shoot across the sky. It rolls about in your head as you dream.
Although its presence may sometimes irk you, as you try to expand on ideas and graduate to more sophisticated pieces of music, the little song never loses its importance. The magic of the little song is that it is the first. And it stays not only because it's quite a devilish, little thing, but because it helps you make the newer songs.
Every word, every melody, every meek hum that slides down your lips and into your lap and maybe bounces up and down on your fingers is guided by the little song.
The little song is there to ease the frustrations of writing and to remind you that, yes, you've done it at least once before, and yes, you can do it again. This, and also that no measure of music demands perfection, only unbridled and unconditional love.
I have loved each of these songs and cried and laughed and yelled and stomped and danced throughout making them. They have all asked, in one way or another, to leave my head and spread themselves across the walls and out the windows and into others' ears. Of course, it is only polite to oblige them.
Thank you for listening to my little album.
released January 1, 2017
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