A quick update...
I have a drawer full of computer hard drives. They’ve just been sitting there, covered with dust for many years. Some of them are almost half my own age, and probably no longer work…
On these drives, I have hundreds of recordings at all different stages of completion. Some of these recordings are terrible, odd little gremlin songs, written when I was an angsty young teenager. Others are okay— people might even like them. But a few of these recordings, certain special gems, are what I consider to be my life’s best work, and nobody aside from myself has ever heard them.
I’m going to start digging through these files in my free time, finishing things off as they catch my interest… Because I’ve always had this whisper of a fear, something that creeps into the back of my mind at odd hours of random days. It’s this soft little voice quietly wondering ‘what if... What if you died tonight?'.
All of those countless hours of work, all of that music encoded as strings of binary— it's all just sitting in that drawer, and I'm the only one with the passwords. I imagine a future in which those hard drives lay entombed in a landfill somewhere, a future in which all of those songs die with me.
And to be honest, most of the time I'm okay with that.
Because assuming that I do find the time to finish a bit of this work, I still don't know if anyone will care to listen. But I'd like to be able to say that I gave them the chance anyway... Even if it's just my own kids some day, laughing about how their dad used to write love songs. Even if it's just my self, listening back when I'm old and tired.