Ever since I was little I loved to perform. There was always something so blissful and magical about it. I felt at home on the stage, singing my heart out, while I painting a picture with my words. As I got older, that love didn’t diminish – much quite the opposite – but there was one small thing I couldn’t get over. I really really loved singing slow, sometimes sad, songs.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I listen to all types of music, dance to all types of music. Bottom line, I LOVE music!
When I first started writing music, I quickly became aware of my affinity for slower songs. Almost every song that I wrote was focused around a feeling, an experience and they would regularly take on the form of a slow, sweet melody and thoughtful, stirring lyrics. I had a hard time playing these songs out at open mic and shows on a regular basis, because quite honestly, I thought that I would be boring my audience. I mean, who really wants to go to see a show of slow songs?
Just several years later I would find how grateful I am that this was where my heart lies.
I’ve found that we can very easily live in a society where we shun, belittle, and ignore our feelings. People tell us we shouldn’t feel a certain way or that we are over the edge, etc. Personally, I don’t think that we feel enough – at least not what truly matters – and that’s why I like my slow songs. They give a moment of pause, invite you to take a closer listen, feel with your heart, really feeeeeeel.
They broach all the “dangerous” subjects. Love lost, sticky situations, things that would rather be left swept under the rug. They bring all those feelings to the forefront and shine a big beautiful warm light on them as if to say “Hey, it’s alright. I’m here with you and we’re going to do this together.”. Slow songs make me honest, they help me get in touch with the things I’m not yet ready to say while helping me build the foundation on which to lay my own words. They help me to be real, human, compassionate and authentic. That is what I want to give my audience. The peaceful solitude of a slow song, to stir at their heart strings and to bring all that we truly can be into the light, all the while saying “I am here. We are in this together and thank you, thank you, thank you for being brave enough to venture into the unknown with me.”
Sam Smith gave me the courage to finally embrace what has always been a beautiful love affair with slow songs. He helped me to realize that the absolutely beauty of who we are is when we make our own way instead of following the “shoulds”. His debut album is 90% slow songs and I could not be happier. Thank you for being brace and shining your beautiful light so that others may find the courage to shine their own. This one’s for you, Sam.