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Many people who have heard me play music live have pointed out that my endings are not definitive and are often, well, a little ragged. The simple answer to this is that I simply don't like to end a song, don't want to stop playing. A song is like a life in that it is just a kind of vibration in the space-time continuum and when it's over it vanishes into thin air. Eventually, entropy gets ahold of everything. Not only does the vibration end, but space itself appears to vanish because it becomes absolutely featureless. When you run a race, your goal is to cross the line, and when you do, whether you are first or last, ahead or behind, once you cross that line all you have left is the memory. I have heard it suggested that one purpose of our life's activity is for generating memories. I suppose this is a way of taking care of your elderly, rocking-chaired self, but if that's all there is our lives are truly pointless. As well as featureless and vibration-free. All our human endeavors have the feeling of being anti-entropy, and this applies resoundingly to music. When I play music, I become something bigger than what I customarily think of as "me". It may actually be "me", but it's not my usual perception. It feels like a way of becoming a solid piece of the cosmos. And remember that, in the original Greek, "cosmos" is the opposite of "chaos" and therefore is anti-entropic. So if I don't like to stop, to let a song die, if I stay up all night long making music (or any other art), please forgive me. I am only trying to best entropy and chaos. Join me on the chorus.
eez@inetarena.com |