Every journey starts somewhere.
Rarely is it ever behind a thick white line, sounded into action by the shot of a starter pistol, or better yet, inaugurated by the sounds of cheering crowds and massive choirs.
In fact, I tend to recognize new beginnings in my life after they’ve already started: as if I’ve been hiking for days, and upon reaching a clearing, I stop and think, “Huh.”
That being said, on the occasion that life hands me “a beginning” with a proper starting point, I usually find myself feeling a wee bit intimidated about what to do with it. After all, you always want to start off on the right foot…or with your best foot forward…or with your foot in the right direction... “Huh.”
Take a recording artist, for example. Can you imagine the pressure they face both personally and professionally when deciding how to begin an album? Once again, where would you even start?
In the past, a lot of great albums begin with an introduction of sorts. I guess it serves as kind of an appetizer to the rest of the album. The Intro doesn’t necessarily represent the album as a whole, but eases the listener into what he or she may hear during the subsequent tracks. Kind of like a welcome mat.
It’s as if to say, “Hello! I’ve been expecting you, and I’m so happy you stopped by. Please, take a seat. It’ll be worth your time, I promise. I will do all the work. In fact, in many ways I already have. I just need you, like that whole ‘tree in a forest’ riddle: Will the music have been made if no one’s there to hear it?”
“Anyway,” the intro continues, “this album is eclectic. It is entertaining. And, if I’ve truly followed my instincts, it is 100% me. And who knows? Maybe you’ll get a tune or two stuck in your head along the way.”
“In short, welcome to my new album. It’s gonna be good-”
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