Music has saved me a million times over, but sometimes it feels like the music business is killing me. I could write a diatribe describing the roller coaster ride that being in music has taken me on. Down to hell, up to heaven, and terrifyingly concerned during the in-betweens. Awash in an industry reeking of moral hypocrisy, fareweather friendships, reality tv attention spans, and the almighty dollar trumping the priceless art form that we call music, I have felt a thousand small deaths. I have heard I'm too old, too pretty, too ugly, too edgy, too unique, not unique enough, too country, too pop, too much. I've been at conferences and had people who didn't know me tell me I don't know myself as an artist. I've laughed at the number of rejections and the number of unreturned emails. I've cried for the self-destructive band members, the friends who were just using me, the lost dreams that still wander through my mind while I'm innocently sleeping.
I think people think that doing this for a living is easy and fun and a party and a good time. I'm going o tell you. It is work. Beautiful and demanding and absolutely amazing and absolutely harsh. But any entrepreneur will tell you, it is one of the most challenging self-discoveries to start a business and really try to succeed. Doing this through music could be called therapy. At the same time the word torture comes to mind. Nevertheless, in my life, music is and has always been about love. Something seems to be more true when it is put to song. And I keep coming back to it. And it has never left me. At my most broken, my least successful, my heaviest moments, there is my G-d, my prayers and my piano. I have leaned heavily into the arms of music and have found refuge where G-d reminds me that music, first and foremost, is spiritual, is for healing, is a bridge to connect what cannot be said but what can be understood.
On days where I don't see the path, I will come to this post and try to remember not to complain. Music has given me life and love where only death existed. Even right down to being the path to my husband and my daughter. I see my son heal through music. I watch kids at Children's Hospital laugh and sing when we play. I work with charities and good hearted people who tell us to keep going, that we made a difference. The business is. I cannot change it. Some days it's good, many days it is crushing. What can I do. I'm left with the reasons I came to music and found truth and beauty and a well of good intention. I can only hold music close and try not to let it go as I go around for one more turn on the roller coaster ride that is the music industry.