Luckily, I've always thought of myself as a musician more than a guitar player. Since I'm always changing as a person and my tastes are always changing, that is reflected in the ways I approach my instrument. I never feel like I'm running out of ideas, because it is clear to me -- music is infinite.
-- John Frusciante (The Red Hot Chili Peppers), Rolling Stone
If music is as infinite as the inventive mind, the same could be said of the lyric edge of song: poetry defies boundary.
When songwriters say they've hit a dry spell, there's an air of longing in their words. They miss the keen aphrodisiac, the fire, as they putter about the house, keeping up appearances. Originality feels so good on. Rehash tastes like dust.
I spoke with a former fan of mind expanding drugs, a holy father of the sixties, who reassured me it was OK I'd never done any. Never have I sought absolution for my cognitive extravagances: listening, waiting, watching, risking.
These indulgences cost nothing but time. And patience.
Their side effect is art.
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