I’d love to start by saying that my mental health has improved dramatically since my last marimba arrangement post. But that would be a lie. My hair is the only real difference. I don’t know if making another video and posting it here will help, but I’m going to give it a try. If nothing else, it will occupy my mind for a few hours.
First things first, Michelle is more difficult than Can’t Help Falling in Love. More notes, more independent lines. So it took longer to prepare, and at times, more energy than I had to give.
But here we are. So…
I love The Beatles. I also love this song, and Toru Takemitsu’s beautiful arrangement of it. But sometimes music is work, especially if you’re in a dark place. Case in point: preparing to record this has been really difficult, in spite of my love for the music itself.
Musicians are often told to push through the hard times. “You’re having difficulty practicing?” Just remind yourself of why you love playing. “Trouble with the career aspect?” Remember why music is so important to you personally. Simple.
But what if it’s not that easy? What if enjoyment is almost non-existent? Can I push through that as a performer? Won’t everyone watching see the lack of emotion, or how I’m running on autopilot?Of the 6 people who will watch this, how many will see right through me?
Short answer, I don’t know. But at the moment, I do know that something is better than nothing, even if that’s all I can say with certainty.
And now moving away from the darkness…
Michelle is a beautiful love song (I love you x3 or I need you x3) from the 1965 album Rubber Soul, which is often referred to as a transition for The Beatles. The “midway” point of their journey, if you will. At the moment, this idea is resonating with me perhaps more than the music. I’ve recently felt like I’m in flux, moving from one thing to the next. To quote from a favorite show of mine, “Whatever happens next…happens next.”
In the meantime, here’s another video with only my iPhone, one mic, and an empty room.