Bar Scott

How'd the Fund Raiser Go?

Last week a friend of mine asked how the fundraiser for my new CD had gone, which led me to describe the overall cost of the project. She was surprised by the numbers. Most people are. I told her I’d been thinking about writing the piece you’re reading now because I enjoy telling people how recordings are made and what they cost. I’ve always thought there’s a benefit to sharing the details. My hope is that people will understand why a copy of music (in the form of a CD or digital download) costs what it does, why it’s important to buy

The Truth About What I Want

Yesterday, two journalists from the local newspaper came by to interview me about a concert I’m doing next weekend. When they left, I thought of all the things I wished I’d said and all the things I wished I’d said better. One of the questions Jillian asked was, “What do you want from  this CD?” I’m not sure how I answered her, but later I thought: I want people to hear it and I want them to like it.

But if I’m honest with myself, not only do I want them to like it, I want to hear about it. If they’re like me,

The Beach

I love walking on the beach. My thoughts go all over the place: From the opening paragraph of another book I could write, to deciding whether it’s worth stopping to write down the words of the opening paragraph of the book I could write, to the last time Forrest tried to nurse, which was eleven hours before he died, to memories of Peter, his father, and me walking on this same beach, which I’d forgotten about, to missing Brent because I love how we laugh together all the time.

Bittersweet - Journey is done!

Journey, the new CD, is finished. I left Dave Cook, the engineer, in his studio about an hour ago. I love being in his space. I love working closely with him; listening to every phrase, every note, every pitch, every part, just to be sure we’ve got it as close to what we want as possible. We could keep changing things for days, but at a certain point, it’s time to say: we’re done.

To be honest, I left in a hurry so I wouldn’t cry. When a recording is finished, there’s a part of me that

I'm Done!

Five years and twelve songs later, I can finally say, this recording is done…almost. What I mean is that all the lyrics are written, vocals are sung, piano and guitar parts are recorded, and there’s nothing more I can do. By this time next week, I’ll really be done. By then, Dave Cook will have mixed all the songs, and my friend Lucy will have the final master to send out to the duplicator. I can hardly wait.

I’m not sure what to say here this afternoon except “thank you.” So many of you have helped to make this

How to be Idle

Two weeks ago, my friend Cathy gave me a book called How to be Idle: a Loafer’s Manifesto. I can’t remember what prompted her to lend it to me, but I must have been fretting about my tendency to be over-busy, even to the point of being short with friends, short with my time at the piano, short with Brent, short with pretty much everything I care about. Without saying a word, she got up from her couch, walked over to the bookshelf, pulled out the book and handed it to me. I laughed when I saw the title, then told her I’d bring

Happy Day!

Last Friday I decided to avoid the phone and stay off my computer for the whole weekend. I’d spent too many hours at my desk last week and needed a break. It was the right thing to do.

Today, after two days away, there’s been a windfall. My college roommate called. My friends Annie and Maureen called. My friend Ann who I’ve known longer than anyone else in my life wrote a long email. I hadn’t heard from her in years. And then a high school friend, Sarah, wrote too. Needless to say, I haven’t

Finding the Balance

Yesterday was the 12th anniversary of Forrest’s death. I always take the day off. It’s not a particularly sad day, just one that I like to separate from the rest. I don’t do email or anything else on the internet, I don’t plan anything, I just get up in the morning and do whatever it is I want to do.

Brent made breakfast for me, which was nice except that it was 6:30 in the morning when he delivered it. The gesture was so sweet, and so like him, that I rallied, ate, then went back to sleep while he walked the dogs.


I’ve spent most of the morning updating banking information for Sound Exchange, which is a company that distributes royalties to musicians like me. Turns out all the work I did this morning was already done, by me, within the last year. Meanwhile, there’s a guy in my bathroom tearing up the tile he installed eight months ago. The grout failed, so he’s doing it over again. I can hear him grumbling and swearing as though it was someone else’s fault even though it’s just one of those things. He had insurance. He’s getting paid, but he’s

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