Create, because you must
in the time of AI
Since becoming a parent, life has changed. That change is both predictable and necessary. But before the first baby emerged, full of life force and chutzpah (yes, from day one) I had a different picture of what life would be.
I would have imagined being able to at least pursue one of my creative outlets and maybe even continuing some regular study. That was proven quite impossible, as the livewire baby dominated both parents fulltime, leaving me with barely enough energy to maintain my home and its endless little and larger jobs.
There were a few easier moments in which I did publish a few pieces on here but they were quite rare and usually unexpected in amongst the bouts of regular day-to-day insanity.
Now there are two little ones screaming and laughing and causing havoc everyday, but that is slowly becoming normal. We humans have this wonderful ability to adapt to our environment.
With that normalisation I have been feeling an intense lacking and longing for my creative side. Outside of “which spices should I add to the daal” or “how long should I boil my bagels on each side”. Fortunately the creative urge has now directed my small amounts of free time and energy towards the studio.
Being back in the studio with a good amount of presence and clarity has instantly revealed that it is truely my happy place.
I became interested in home studios at - what was back then in the early 90s - a young age. My classical guitar teacher doubled as a eurodance producer out of his bedroom, in his Eastern European Jewish parents home in the outer suburbs of London. As an eleven year old, this was my ‘gear heaven’. He had an expensive Mac, hardware sampler (software ones did not exist back then), exotic synths, outboard effects and a mixing desk with AUTOMATED FADERS. I don’t think my jaw could have dropped much lower than the subfloor of his packed English-semi bedroom.
He encouraged me to start doing the same. While he suggested buying a Mac, I did not exactly have two thousand pounds to drop on a computer. But being who I was back then, determined and industrious, I cobbled together old parts from around my home and built a low-spec PC that could - in a pinch -record 4ish tracks of audio in Cubasis. It was super minimal and often didn’t work properly, but it was a start.
I recorded my own music and demos for friends - my first little business. It was an exciting time when the ability to record digital high quality music at home was becoming more accessible. But it still required significant investments of money and time.
As the teenage years passed, I found my energy directed in various other directions. Some of them bands and other music. That along with studies - as my parents pushed me away from music and towards a degree that would ensure my financial stability - meant that the studio was largely ignored.
I returned somewhat in university (as a distraction from tedious engineering work) and afterwards but always moving and sharing houses meant that setting up anything beyond basics was very difficult.
But deep within me, the dream stayed alive to assemble my lifetime continuing collection of instruments and gear into one room where I could exercise them to my every whim at any time.
Cue the move - now in a committed relationship - to our own home. One with multiple spare rooms, in a quiet mountain town. The perfect place to set up my dream studio.
And I did, but massive renovations put a hold on it. After that I finally started working on my dream. It was exhilarating. All of the options were suddenly there, anything was now possible. But it was a very difficult time creatively. My longtime record label had become uninspired and I was becoming extremely burnt out from the music industry. Dealing with unscrupulous distributors, promoters and the other egomaniacs was draining and left me feeling depressed about the music world, and life in general.
The label slowly wound down. I was fortunate to have two friends unknowingly throw me lifelines when they asked me to produce and record their releases. Both projects that required - in different ways - significant resources. This was a lift for me spiritually and kept my dreams alive.
And then covid. From the remains of that time came where we are now - tiferet - my current umbrella project and label.
Teshuvah had brought back my creative urges, and this was the first time that I actually had a perfect environment to express it in. As the first record, ‘kavanah’ headed towards release, I cultivated my own kavanah. I decided that unlike the past, I would not allow my validation to be tethered to the external world and its response - or lack thereof - to my work. If it was successful to my ears and heart, that was the only real validation needed. Sharing it was merely a way of expressing love for the universe. Allowing others to bask in whatever glow I was able to capture on tape.
Largely I was able to maintain this throughout the releases.
What I found though, was that the more external success I had, the more I sought it out. This meant starting to plan sequel-type records that could capitalise on the success of the initial success. Not the kavanah I originally had.
Having had a long break from releasing music, the inevitable waning of attention has ensued. My audience was small and over time people will drift to and fro. Now that I am back to creating and sharing, it feels much like I have started the label from scratch again. At least in terms of audience.
Whilst this is frustrating for someone who has spent a lifetime making music and cultivating multiple audiences, it is also liberating. There is a freedom in knowing that absolutely no-one cares more about your creative output than you, the one creating it.
This coupled with the overwhelming onset of AI - specifically in the music world - I was feeling ready to hang it all up. The music industry was already an inhospitible nightmare for artists and independent labels. Sharing the space with opportunistic tech bros looking to squeeze some cash out of AI-generated slop chill beats was a situation I couldn’t face in life right now.
But somehow, I get back into the studio. I start small, making sure my finicky old machines fire up and will do enough to make something. I place the heavily worn DJ headphones over my ears and am transported into a micro-universe of my creation. I hit record, I hear the warmth of my old guitar, my tired voice, the condenser microphone that I scraped up for as a teenager and then carefully modified years ago. The analog outboard gear that I built with my own hands. And I feel that old feeling. The joy of creation. The joy of expressing myself in my favourite way. I can’t let it go. I don’t care what hellscape the music industry is, I must create. Not doing so is a fate almost worse than death.
Kampuchea, the my new album is available on bandcamp and all evil streaming platforms.
