The First Time is Terrifying

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Photo by Sam Haggart

Waxlimbs has a small show at a small bar called The Cavern in a small city called Toronto on Wednesday, and we’re playing three new songs.

This is one of those times where I nervously consider how my experience of a song will translate to the experience of other people hearing it for the first time. Naturally, they won’t place nearly the same weight as me on the experience because I’m the one responsible for delivering it. What is terrifying is the thought that what we do as musicians won’t make an impression, that it will glance off people and spin into the abyss that is “new music.”

TL;DR: What if they don’t get it?

It’s also a very exciting moment where you get to do the thing you’ve been dreaming of for months or in some cases, years. All of the pressure, doubt and struggle that went into making this thing will finally be relieved on stage!
That’s a pipe dream- but every artist believes it on some level. Through presentation, they are free of the burden of keeping the material alive in their own hands- it will go into the world and grow on its own. This isn’t always true but everybody has that feeling deep down.
I know through cyclical discussions with friends that my fear is baseless anxiety, that things will evolve with time; my satisfaction will wane with it.
That validation that comes with “releasing” something is purely vapour, and that’s ok.

I think the hard part of having a back-catalogue is owning it years after you release it. I hate performing a lot of older songs now, but I owe that to the work. I need to support it after the shine has worn off. Otherwise, I’m squandering what might be there for others. It’s kind of like raising a kid, but with less sticky hands and gross things like that.

Alright, end-rant.
-Alex

The First Time is Terrifying

Fresh Eyes [Poem]

Today I played my first “gig” at the SNAFU summer festival in Toronto. It was a hell of a time, and all the other bands and families were amazing!

With that, here is a little poem.

Fresh Eyes

Today I watched two people I know
Get
Bled
With Ink.

I’d never say
I’d never do it again.
That’s what scares me, like a baby
In the backseat
Bumping
Down
A
Piano
Key
Stair
Case
On the backs of grey-blue elephants.

Lumbering along behind the stallions that
Free
Climb the wall ahead of me,
A head,
Of me.

It’s just black
Even when it bleeds.
Only when it gets wrapped does it show
Colour

As the blood gets sandwiched
Between
Layers of skin and cellophane.

Later I will draw off this.
I will
I will
I will.

Fresh Eyes [Poem]