Do you know how songs are born?
There are tiny particles of feelings floating in ether, similar to water molecules that under certain conditions form clouds. These clouds of feelings are potential songs. They can be stormy songs of rage, fluffy playful songs, or perfect beautiful songs of love. Just like clouds, in this “idea” stage songs can change, morph into something new, merge or evaporate altogether.
To survive and materialize songs have to find their composers; just like potential children need to find their parents to be conceived. It’s a tough job. Good composers are in high demand. Having good parents can give a great head start in life: you will end up more melodic and harmonious, will have much higher chance to be played and heard by many and could live longer in people's’ minds. And if you are lucky enough to be composed by someone like Bach, you might become practically immortal. Why do you think good composers are so prolific? Many, many songs are vying for their attention, constantly twirling around them and fighting for a one in a million chance to be chosen. Uncountable brave ambitious songs literally vanished into thin air waiting in vain to be picked out from the crowd.
Now imagine that press of songs pushing and shoving each other to get closer to the composer. No niceties here. But the composer’s heart is locked, he’s preoccupied with his daily existence. Until something stirs inside: a memory, a feeling, creating tiny ripples and waves on the surface of the soul. An inspiration. He is ready to conceive a new song. Say the composer is in a nostalgic mood. This is the chance the nostalgic songs have been waiting for, the right wavelength! The songs compress themselves into tiny bubbles and plunge into the waves. They have to pick the right spot; a small mistake and you dissipate. And as soon as the first one’s in, the door shuts and the opportunity is gone.
But the lucky winner has been determined; the conception has finally happened. The bubble of the song is charging through the soul, leaving a strip of void behind it. Do you know that void, that craving - who knows for what? The composers fill those with songs. The vacuum sucks in more memories and emotions, and the first chords and verses appear. The labor can take minutes, days, or months. Or it can never come to fruition. Only the lucky few make it all the way: being born, sung, remembered…
