I recently sat down with Muses in a rare group rendezvous. Either they are in the same space but not at the same time, or present the same time in a different space.
Muses are fickle and unpredictable. They can’t sit still, they bend my will and have their way with me, when I’m not loaded with preferences. They come and go anytime of the day or night, fast or slow, even if I put up a fight. Spontaneous inspiration comes out of nowhere and disappears into the great mystery. They are creative little animals that cannot be caged.
Muses laugh with unbounded joy at the feeble attempts to question and define musical genres when people ask me “How would you describe the kind of music you play?” The lines are blurred with genre-bending, jazzified country divine folk. How do you “brand” this? Stop making sense, muses cry out, “not my job”. Logic cannot control these angels of imagination.