
Day 278 Week 40 Q3 Friday, October 4, 2024
What do I mean by proper long-form structures, and why do we need them? Much of today’s music follows similar, almost algorithmic patterns, as if crafted by AI. Many producers in rock bands adhere to traditional verse-chorus structures that have been recognizable for decades. This conformity often raises the question: why is everyone so committed to these age-old frameworks? Do they fear that breaking from tradition will offend listeners?
Throughout my life, I’ve often felt detached from the structures that seem to dominate the music landscape. I’ve never understood the necessity of learning the common forms that have persisted for 50, 150, or even 250 years. To me, music doesn’t require a linear progression—beginning, middle, and end. Reality itself isn’t so neatly structured, and the effects of the notes I play on the audience are unpredictable.
So, where does this perspective leave me? I view music as a ladle dipped into an ocean, pulling up a unique spoonful. The beginning and end of a piece depend on where you dip and the waves around you. Context is crucial: what is the venue? Is it large or small? Who is the audience? Are they experienced or new? Understanding these factors is essential because music can have a life of its own, but it is also deeply influenced by its environment.
Sometimes a piece of music requires a specific form to express the feelings it embodies. The chosen instruments, the order of their introduction, and the time taken to express these feelings should guide the structure—not merely the convenience of the musicians available or the venue where a gig is scheduled. The essence of music is to convey emotions, and sometimes this means inventing new forms that resonate with those feelings, regardless of traditional structures.
Art is a living entity, seeking expression. To bring it into the world, we cannot simply pander to what we think will please an audience. If you’re focused on minimizing risk, you might consider joining a cover band or a tribute act. However, if you are a composer who hears sounds within you, let those sounds emerge authentically. This may mean breaking free from conventional endings and allowing your work to find its own path, even if it diverges from established norms.
Don’t let the expectations of others stifle your artistic expression. True artistry demands a personal statement—one that cannot be borrowed. Just as CEOs might hire someone to draft a business plan, this practice often lacks authenticity. An audience can sense when someone presents ideas that aren’t their own. If you cannot articulate your artistic vision or create your own unique work, you might not deserve an audience.
This perspective may seem harsh, but consider the reality: many musicians engage in cover performances, whether playing classical pieces from centuries ago or rock hits from the past two decades. For me, the effort invested in rehearsing and performing is only worthwhile if I’m making an original statement. Delivering someone else’s message doesn’t yield a sufficient return on the investment of time and energy required.
This isn’t necessarily advice for everyone, but it is for those creative outliers who yearn to make original artistic statements. Don’t fixate on form or structure shaped by the past; focus instead on the present moment and the expression you wish to deliver. Your voice and feelings matter more than adhering to outdated conventions.




