Evolution

When I first started writing music, I was completely infatuated with Otis Redding.  He had so much soul; I was one smitten kitten.  It's no wonder that my first hundred tunes all sounded like lovesick white girl versions of "Dock of the Bay."

The fans who discovered my music at that time keep asking me to get back to my roots, to put out another album like the ones I used to make.  And I'd love to.  There's just one problem.

I've grown.

And a person just can't "un-grow."  In the same way that I can't squeeze my kids into shoes that no longer fit, I can't make this old heart fit into my younger heart's songwriting style.  I just can't.

Nor would I want to.  We are not born to stay the same.  We are born to evolve.  I'm not a young lovesick white girl anymore.  I'm a middle-aged mother trying to instill strong values in my children while building a restaurant in my hometown.  I've got different tunes to write.

The album I'm working on these days is called "Backbone," and it's about standing up for things. It sounds like Joni Mitchell meets the Jayhawks.  I've never made anything like it, but it's exactly the right album for right now.  It's what I've grown into.

Reader, it's hard to realize that we've outgrown things.  There's a real sadness to letting go.  But it's necessary to keep evolving, to allow ourselves to change as we learn more about ourselves and our planet.  If we didn't, we'd be adults playing dress-up, living on candy bars, and believing in the Easter Bunny.  

(Although dress-up is still kinda great.  See Exhibit A: my husband and I at a Kentucky Derby party yesterday).  See you next Sunday. -Em 

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