Last night I found myself in need of something tall and hot! Oh pipe down I meant a large latte, extra shot. Anyhow, I needed to stay up to make headway on a project with a producer friend of mine so I went out to grab one at a local coffee joint. After a group of teeny boppers and one grumpy decaf-er later, I was next in line to receive my fix. The chick over the counter decided (by the Christmas season gods I suppose) to break out into John Legend holiday lyrics, show tune style. Initially, I wanted to smack the hell out of her with one of those pre-packaged biscotti’s they have on display, but I decided against it.
Once I got my drink I sat down and started working on my computer. But that girl and her voice were inescapable. But I started thinking. She sang openly without fear of rejection. Whether we received it or not was not her concern; she was jsut that confident. So I began unpacking the question: Is conceit a pre-requisite to performance? Gotta be.
Think about it: Ever heard of an insecure rapper? Imagine if the first time you heard 'Ether' Nas seemed unsure about what he had to say. Would it have been able to sustain its place in history as the greatest lyrical slaying of all time? I don't think so. I mean even the god MC, Jay-Z, gave it up for that one (excuse the propaganda). Or try considering an actor. Can you imagine he or she on stage delivering lines from Julius Caesar without certainty? Of course not!
Essentially, what I'm trying to convey is that one who chooses to showcase their talent to the world must, if nothing else, exude the kind of confidence that is cousin to conceit. In order for the world to receive you, you have to possess the assurance that shouts, "What I do I do the best and you're going to love it!" If you don't first believe it who will?
Conceit, then, is indeed a pre-requisite to performance as it will provide the fuel one needs to drive the talent. It's the secret to many people's success. Furthermore, self doubt is self defeat and therefore the greatest failure one could endure.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Stars Do Twinkle In The Concrete Jungle
A couple of nights ago I was invited to a listening session less than 10 steps from my front door. My neighbor invited me over to get an earful of the latest building gossip (one of the pros and cons to apartment living) and to indulge in the listening pleasure of her granddaughter string away at the Viola. Unbeknownst to what lay ahead, I knew that at the very least I could expect some variation of one overrated childhood sing-along or another. I gulped the last bit of the Cabernet Sauvignon in my glass and readied myself for what I was certain would equal that of a tortured alley cat.
In entered 12 year old LiLi: clad in bamboo knockers, pre-pubescent acne, and her Viola in tow, she was most ready to make her impromptu debut. Just as I'd predicted, the performance was ridden with frequent awkward notes, unwarranted pitches and a wandering commitment to the tune. I thanked my lucky stars for vintage fermentation.
In spite of the less than perfect demonstration, and completely out of nowhere, something wondrous happened. There was a delightful shift in my listening experience and, no, it wasn't the booze. It was instead a clearer perspective of what was before me; a revelation even. It was a realization that there's more. There's a greater creative outlet that expands much farther than the typical goal line kids from the 'hood seemingly only aspire to. They deserve the opportunity to be excited with the same ignition through art and culture and music as they are with sports. As a caveat, please don't misunderstand me. I am quite grateful and thankful for the Snoop Dogg's and high school sports stars turned employee's of the world who are giving back to the community through athletic activities. But, again, I declare, there's more.
After 30 seconds or so I tuned back in to the listening soiree and realized that 1.) The liquor had worn off and 2.) Children in the ghetto are just as likely to be excited through the use of instrumentation as their privileged Westside counterparts. They just need to be introduced.
It then hit me: The same kid whose tiny bedroom is shaken nightly by the rambunctious sounds of helicopters combing the streets for gangsters, has been stimulated by a tiny vessel of classical music. It was she who unveiled for me the possibilities of more bling in the 'hood sky. I, too, realized I had actually heard first hand the most breathtaking rendition of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" one ever did hear.
In entered 12 year old LiLi: clad in bamboo knockers, pre-pubescent acne, and her Viola in tow, she was most ready to make her impromptu debut. Just as I'd predicted, the performance was ridden with frequent awkward notes, unwarranted pitches and a wandering commitment to the tune. I thanked my lucky stars for vintage fermentation.
In spite of the less than perfect demonstration, and completely out of nowhere, something wondrous happened. There was a delightful shift in my listening experience and, no, it wasn't the booze. It was instead a clearer perspective of what was before me; a revelation even. It was a realization that there's more. There's a greater creative outlet that expands much farther than the typical goal line kids from the 'hood seemingly only aspire to. They deserve the opportunity to be excited with the same ignition through art and culture and music as they are with sports. As a caveat, please don't misunderstand me. I am quite grateful and thankful for the Snoop Dogg's and high school sports stars turned employee's of the world who are giving back to the community through athletic activities. But, again, I declare, there's more.
After 30 seconds or so I tuned back in to the listening soiree and realized that 1.) The liquor had worn off and 2.) Children in the ghetto are just as likely to be excited through the use of instrumentation as their privileged Westside counterparts. They just need to be introduced.
It then hit me: The same kid whose tiny bedroom is shaken nightly by the rambunctious sounds of helicopters combing the streets for gangsters, has been stimulated by a tiny vessel of classical music. It was she who unveiled for me the possibilities of more bling in the 'hood sky. I, too, realized I had actually heard first hand the most breathtaking rendition of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" one ever did hear.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Pressline Entertainment's First Lady of Poetic Soul
Pressline Entertainment's First Lady of Poetic Soul
Through her own creative, elegant, and soulful style, Triana Sheard, Pressline Entertainment's first lady of soul, has generated such a frenzy over the release of her new compilation “Visions of a Cluttered Heart”, due to hit stores in early 2008.
Ms. Sheard’s poetic style seems to demonstrate a sound understanding of human growth, religious understanding, social struggle and economic problems. At the mere age of twenty-two, Triana is able to captivate the minds of her own generation as well as those before her.
Ms. Triana Sheard starts her west coast tour in February of 2008. This poetic mastermind will be featured on the album, "Welcome to Bedrock", the first record from Pressline Entertainment's budding new artist ,Deno, also due February of 2008.
Time
Time…
It’s what we don’t have,
It’s what’s token for granted
& surely slanted,
To adjust to our needs,
Of our daily feeds,
On the innocent.
If there is any.
Sometimes I think no,
Sometimes I think plenty,
Hope can be wanted,
Can’t it,
Or can it not.
Reality is like a cold hard shot.
Not to the heart
but to the mind
Because sometimes
It’s falsely sublime.
& thoughts start to scatter, & people do chatter
Of what they don’t know
As time takes it toll.
Uhhh…
My time is your time,
My world is your world,
So to say one is selfish is truly absurd.
Time comes & it goes,
Never knowing what it holds.
Something so precious but token for granted,
So how can we expect to be respected in this essence.
When people are confused about God’s blessin’.
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