It's the sort of discontent that generally starts with muttered profanities stemming from rejections of songs sent to the Taxi music listing service (which actually did some years ago get me a publishing contract). And yet eventually I'll take a breath and once again remember why I started doing this songwriting thing; to find the magic in the next chord, to then go on to the next song or mix or recording session or lyric. I love the smell of the cup of coffee next to the keyboard and the ring it creates on the wood or if it's after 5:00, a Jamesons sipped from a long stemmed glass purchased in Provence last year in a medieval town. To begin to write a new song with my old Gibson J-50 which someone gave me when I was 14 with cracks on the back put there by my younger brother kicking it over when he was 8. Or more usually, on the piano to hear the overtones when searching for the right note for the right word for the right chord. This is what gets me through my winter's discontent.
Of course, being married to the love of my life helps quite a bit... ;)
