Sunday, November 6, 2011
Why I Compose
There is something about composing music that I can't explain. Sometimes, I will be banging my head on the piano, complaining that I can't compose anything, and then a melody pops in my head, and I just know what to do. I just put my hands on the right key and create. There are other times where my mom and I will be about to leave the house, when a melody comes to me, and I run to the keyboard in my room, while my mom is wondering where I went. And then, sometimes, it just starts from a chord, an arpeggio, or even a scale. Either way, there is something magical to composing a song. I've come to realize that the reason I can't explain what happens when I compose is because what I compose are bits of life. Not even my life. I can compose pain, love, hope, joy, even emotions I've never felt before. Each song represents some worldly kind of feeling. Every time I'm in the process of writing a song, I always feel like it's mine. It's almost like a baby that I am caring for. But when it is complete, I have to let the song go. It never feels like mine anymore. It feels free.