I have never felt personally oppressed. Quite the opposite, in fact. I've aways considered myself to be among the luckiest people I know, with an iron constitution, good friends, work that for the most part I enjoy, a Mr. Magoo- like gift for dodging catastrophe, and now, a delightful and delicious three year old boy to play with. Far worse lives have been visited upon far better people.
The pursuit of music has been for me like the pursuit of butterflies is for some others. and like some butterfly hunters, I hate to kill them. This accounts for my, um, erratic output. When all the t's are crossed and the i's dotted on a particular song or piece of music, it stops living somehow for me. It's stupid,
I know, but there it is, and the economic circumstances of my life have (again, luckily) made it possible for me to just sort of... amble, in my erratic fashion. That won't last forever, of course, and sooner or later I'm going to have to get a grip and start killing some butterflies. I've started a new career now as a film composer, and I suspect that my days of nibbling on a blade of grass and watching the clouds roll by may be over soon, given the exigencies of deadlines and Other People's Money , but really,
shed no tears for David Baerwald, as he's the luckiest of all the butterfly hunters.
There have been times, it's true, when it felt as thoughJames Ellroy and John Ranelagh were collaborating on the preface to my obituary, but for the moment, anyway, those are the most distant of memories, with the faces and voices of all the variegated thugs, gangsters, molls, conmen, pimps, and corporate bully boys of my younger years fading like cheap ink on a yellowing tabloid, and what memories remain merely serve as seasoning to a spicy dish, if you'll forgive the mixed metaphor.
As far as pain and creation goes, I like to think that pain is like the starter on an engine, and that once you're moving, you're just .... moving, and can forget about it until you turn it off. Anyway, everybody suffers, but the artists at least have something to show for it. You on this page are testimony of that, at least for me, and I thank you again for your interest and support.
Yrs,
David Baerwald
Butterfly Hunting
B
Baerwald
(view)
I have never felt personally oppressed. Quite the opposite, in fact. I've aways considered myself to be among the luckiest people I know, with an iron constitution, good friends, work that for the most part I enjoy, a Mr. Magoo- like gift for dodging catastrophe, and now, a delightful and delicious three year old boy to play with. Far worse lives have been visited upon far better people.
The pursuit of music has been for me like the pursuit of butterflies is for some others. and like some butterfly hunters, I hate to kill them. This accounts for my, um, erratic output. When all the t's are crossed and the i's dotted on a particular song or piece of music, it stops living somehow for me. It's stupid,
I know, but there it is, and the economic circumstances of my life have (again, luckily) made it possible for me to just sort of... amble, in my erratic fashion. That won't last forever, of course, and sooner or later I'm going to have to get a grip and start killing some butterflies. I've started a new career now as a film composer, and I suspect that my days of nibbling on a blade of grass and watching the clouds roll by may be over soon, given the exigencies of deadlines and Other People's Money , but really,
shed no tears for David Baerwald, as he's the luckiest of all the butterfly hunters.
There have been times, it's true, when it felt as thoughJames Ellroy and John Ranelagh were collaborating on the preface to my obituary, but for the moment, anyway, those are the most distant of memories, with the faces and voices of all the variegated thugs, gangsters, molls, conmen, pimps, and corporate bully boys of my younger years fading like cheap ink on a yellowing tabloid, and what memories remain merely serve as seasoning to a spicy dish, if you'll forgive the mixed metaphor.
As far as pain and creation goes, I like to think that pain is like the starter on an engine, and that once you're moving, you're just .... moving, and can forget about it until you turn it off. Anyway, everybody suffers, but the artists at least have something to show for it. You on this page are testimony of that, at least for me, and I thank you again for your interest and support.
Yrs,
David Baerwald
The pursuit of music has been for me like the pursuit of butterflies is for some others. and like some butterfly hunters, I hate to kill them. This accounts for my, um, erratic output. When all the t's are crossed and the i's dotted on a particular song or piece of music, it stops living somehow for me. It's stupid,
I know, but there it is, and the economic circumstances of my life have (again, luckily) made it possible for me to just sort of... amble, in my erratic fashion. That won't last forever, of course, and sooner or later I'm going to have to get a grip and start killing some butterflies. I've started a new career now as a film composer, and I suspect that my days of nibbling on a blade of grass and watching the clouds roll by may be over soon, given the exigencies of deadlines and Other People's Money , but really,
shed no tears for David Baerwald, as he's the luckiest of all the butterfly hunters.
There have been times, it's true, when it felt as thoughJames Ellroy and John Ranelagh were collaborating on the preface to my obituary, but for the moment, anyway, those are the most distant of memories, with the faces and voices of all the variegated thugs, gangsters, molls, conmen, pimps, and corporate bully boys of my younger years fading like cheap ink on a yellowing tabloid, and what memories remain merely serve as seasoning to a spicy dish, if you'll forgive the mixed metaphor.
As far as pain and creation goes, I like to think that pain is like the starter on an engine, and that once you're moving, you're just .... moving, and can forget about it until you turn it off. Anyway, everybody suffers, but the artists at least have something to show for it. You on this page are testimony of that, at least for me, and I thank you again for your interest and support.
Yrs,
David Baerwald
