training

Everything we do is preparing us for what we do next. We can't avoid washing the dishes (for too long), so when we do, what skills are we honing and how can we turn that into something useful? Maybe life is like a Wagner opera: every moment is important, either building to a climax, climaxing, or recovering. So pay attention--even to the mundane. I don't have too many mundane moments in my current life; every day is something different. Which means I don't get too many opportunities to recenter myself. Hence, blogging and drinking coffee in the afternoon.

This discussion formed in my head when I started thinking about the skills that I am developing living this lifestyle. For one, it forces me to be more organized, more careful. If I forget my phone charger somewhere random, it could be serious. If I make bad choices about what I need for the next few days, I could be short on clean clothes, toothpaste, food, or the necessary cables to connect keyboards and computers. So far so good; I'm getting better at things that I never would have put on my résumé as strengths.

[It's not really "coffee" per se but a beautiful concoction that I've only seen at the Coffee Studio: a cortado. It's mostly espresso with a modicum of steamed milk--like a latte but with a higher percentage of the good stuff.

You never know how your skills might transfer over. My friend Corbett is a good example: he went from experimental pop musician to small business man, energy auditor in about a year. I had lunch with him, sitting on the grass in a park, sweating, and we celebrated his new-found solvency. His skills that made him a musician are quite different than mine, and I think it was those skills that made him successful in business. I should maybe get a taste of real business--without all this artsy fartsy bullshit--and then retrofit those lessons to my artistic life. Maybe not. Maybe I should but I probably won't.

I gave Corbett a copy of one of Scott Walker's most experimental albums: The Drift. If anyone needs to know about Scott Walker, it's him. And the documentary is available streaming on Netflix. Why am I so obsessed all of a sudden? His music confuses and intrigues more than it blows me away. It's almost too operatic, too theatrical for my tastes, his voice too saturated with unctuous pomp. But there is sincerity beneath the surface woven into the lush orchestrations and inventive production.

Here's what they say at Reckless about it:

This is SCOTT WALKER'S 11th solo album in 40 years, and his first in 11 years since the magnificent "Tilt" in 1995, using many of the same musicians. Walker eschews the song structure almost altogether and creates a work of art that is as incredible as it is terrifying. Like watching "Ringu" as directed by Francis Bacon, there is no casual listening here, but the rewards are many, from extreme slabs of noise to almost pastoral strings with SCOTT's once balmy baritone now a tortured yet still seductive croon. We are treated to the sounds of pork being smashed with fists, distressed donkeys and a satanic Donald Duck thrown in just to unnerve us completely. No one in pop or in the world of classical or jazz has made a record like "The Drift." Easily the man's greatest achievement at 63 years old.

Tonight, I'm going to the Chicago Symphony (with complimentary tickets) to see Mason Bates' piece "Music from Underground Spaces" and some Ravel and De Falla. Bates is the new composer in residence at the CSO--starting next year. I'm both excited and jealous that he is doing--ostensibly--similar experiments with classical and electronics that I am doing. Except he's finishing stuff. That's my goal for next week--now that the funeral music, Ashes to Ashes, is done. Start holding your breath; it can only inspire me to work faster.

Harder Better Faster Stronger. All over again.