February is drawing to a close. Tiny cerise buds are popping up on the lime tree in our back yard. The winter’s brief period of respite seems long behind me. Amidst a flurry of activity, the brain is firing on all cylinders. Why does this seeming paradox never fail to catch me off guard? The more I do, the more ideas I have – for more to do. It’s always been this way and yet I never see it coming. It could well just be another tightly-wound subconscious method of ensuring that I continue to work. My own method for creating the time-honored human illusion of forward motion. Not that it’s such a negative thing – songs are flowing, production ideas mounting, gear being maintained and upgraded. It’s just particularly noticeable today. I’d like to split off into three or four different people and task them each with special projects.
Last night I made an off-the-cuff comment about Ennio Morricone, wondering how interesting a biography of him could be, since he – fascinating artist and genius though he is, who has scored over 800 films since the 1960s – seems to only work. Leaving the genius part aside, I wonder: to whom was I really referring?
