A fluid medium.

As much as I love paint and it's transformative powers, I have found a new love for a different fluid medium; (Oh, man, I just admitted I'm seeing other art! Sorry, acrylics!)

Songs.

flu·id
n.
A continuous, amorphous substance whose molecules move freely past one another and that has the tendency to assume the shape of its container; a liquid or gas.
adj.
1. Of, relating to, or characteristic of a fluid.
2. Readily reshaped; pliable.
3. Smooth and flowing; graceful: the fluid motion of a cat.
4.
a. Changing or tending to change; variable: a fluid situation fraught with uncertainty.
b. Characterized by or allowing social mobility: a fluid society.
5. Convertible into cash: fluid assets.
(Thank you, Free Dictionary!)

A song can be all of that! Ok, not molecular-ly, but essentially.

Words shift , words change; you change a note or an inflection; (usually every time you interpret it;) it might be a bit faster or slower. Is it EVER identical in live performance? Impossible.

Is a song a fluid medium? Does it change, vary? Obviously. And, can it be smooth? Sometimes! Does it allow social mobility? You bet! Does it assume shape? Think ice, or glass. Is it convertible into cash? We hope so, although the idealist in me struggles with that, the painfully honest girl in me sincerely hopes so, at some level.

Are songs ever "finished"? Is there a fixative?

I have rewritten one of my favorites (is it OK to pick favorites?)4 times plus. Now that I am happy with it, I am considering a "perfect" word for one little line; continually changing a word here, a phrase there, adding a bridge, balancing meter, considering repeats; I have revisited it at least weekly for almost 4 months. But, is it DONE?

Are they ever? As long as someone can interpret, play, improvise; the answer seems to be no!

It's like my, (and my sister's and mother's,) penchant for constantly rearranging furniture. There is, probably, an ideal arrangement of all the stuff. But then, it depends upon how the room is used, and how many people use it; things that can change. Basically, my brain can't process rooms as static in arrangement. I think of them as puzzles, and we even dream and daydream about it.

It boils down to a pleasing set-up at any given time you work it. After that, well... songs are open to interpretation and revision, small and great, continually. My friend Bill said, "...when you've had a publisher or artist say that they love something you've written, but they want a small modification, you'll lose your devotion to your original line in a hurry!" I'd like to experience that very fluid motion one of these days! I hope I never have to hear one of them destroyed, but too much in music is a matter of taste to not expect it at some time. But then, if that makes the song pleasing to another group of listeners, is it a bad thing?

I guess if it were only all about me, I wouldn't have anything to offer everyone else. "I" am certainly not my point in writing songs. I can fill a glass, as well as be the glass. I like to be the glass, too, for me and for others, but that's not why I write; (or the only reason to sing, for that matter.)

I hope that I write songs that make positive puddles in the world; that paint mental murals that create a better environment. I want to be the barrista of joy and goodness; of redemption, strength, caution, thoughtful wisdom; of ideals that I would like to reinforce and model. I want to empower voices that beg to be heard; to be an audible heart rhythm in poetic melody. I want to make people think and feel, and to be a relief valve. If I rant, may it be based upon the knowledge that others feel the same way. Music supplies a connectedness that nothing else can; it's the intersection of my story and "every-man's" experience; fun, silly, sweet, passionate, honest, angry, hopeful, painful; like life.

Next round's on me.