The Quicksand of Perfectionism

I’m taking a brief hiatus from recording while my producer goes on tour with a little known band called Metallica. No big deal. But while he’s on the road, I’ve been listening to my tracks and feeling really proud of how they sound.

Except for one. I think I’ve talked about it here before. It’s called Blessing in Disguise and I knew from the jump that this song would be on the record. It was ready, polished, precious, beautiful and just perfect.

Or so I thought.

I presented it to Matt, thinking he’d fall over and start weeping in awe of my song baby. Once I finished the song though, he was just like, ‘Nice. It’s too long though.’

…

EXCUSE ME?!

Oh man. I think that was the session that I almost fired him. My poor little ego. I’m happy I can laugh about it now. He obviously gives me ultimate control over the final say of my songs, but I highly value his experience and I wanted to be open minded to his input.

The truth is, the song gives me chills when I listen to it. We’ve successfully cut it down to under four minutes, added great sonic elements, and it progresses really beautifully.

And yet.

It’s just not quite there yet.

Now. Is this my artistic integrity talking? Or is this my fuggin PERFECTIONISM talking.

I texted Matt that I’d like to go over the vocals a few more times. Fearing that he’d flick me away like a clingy booger, he enthusiastically responded, ‘Let’s do it! Let’s make sure it’s right!’

What a gem.

Since then I’ve been tossing and turning about whether to actually commit to redoing the vocals, or to just let the song live where it lives.

I’ve grown a lot since I began recording, and both my vocals and my attitude have gained confidence and character. To have this new and roomy sense of agency over my voice presents some really fun opportunities.

I’m getting to know this voice of mine. I think where the rubber meets the road here is that I’m being seen and heard by Matt in a safe and nonjudgmental way where I can (in my mind) sound bad. Then I listen back and I’m like, ‘holy shit that sounds good.’

I always thought I had to overanalyze my voice while I was using it - which takes me out of the breath, out of the song, and out of the present moment. It takes me out of the joy. One minute I’m singing, the next I’m sinking in the quicksand of perfectionism. Singing. Sinking. One little letter can ruin a really fun song.

If my theatre training has taught me anything, it’s that active listening is the butter of any production bagel. You can’t be in the scene with someone if all you’re thinking about is your next line and how you’ll deliver it. You have to be with your scene partner. You have to see them, hear them, hold space for them, and most importantly, you have to BREATHE with them.

Did you know that audience members’ hearts sync their rhythms during theatre performances and concerts? We breathe and beat as one when we connect rhythmically, in our heart and our breath space, and in our spirit and soul spaces.

When I’m working in the studio, I’m being witnessed as I open my heart and soul and spirit and voice - and I’m being held and validated, elevated and supported.

Blossoms I’ve never seen can thrive in that environment. Sounds I didn’t know I was capable of - but are wholly mine - can take root and ground me in that environment.

My artistic integrity sees my perfectionism and says, ‘I got this, why don’t you sit in the back and enjoy the scenery.’

I’ll take another stab at the vocals and I’ll give myself permission to breathe, and instead of sink, I’ll sing.