New Years and a new song

The new songs that I've written lately are directly inspired by the job I have. The ever travelling, ever on-the-move management consultant's life. As new year comes I thought back to this job on a train from Sprinfield Illinois to Chicago asking myself what I wanted from life and this question will hopefully be answered at home.

Once again I find myself packing to get on a plane. This time though it's for a happy cause. Home. The time of year when families across the world come together and old fights are forgotten and new ones emerge. Who's going to take the car out tonight? Who gets to have the first freshly made dosa? Who gets to watch their tv show? Who gets to tell someone that he/she has put on some weight and, consequently, who gets to sulk for the entire evening about his/her midriff?
But this is blood, isn't it? Ultimately, the hugs, the backslaps and the familiar, colloquial banter makes the house you once grew up in become a home again. My rosewood cot that I still sleep in is the most comfortable bed in the world. The swing on the verandah is still the best place to have a morning cup of chai before my music teacher comes home. Tamil starts to roll of the tongue a little more easily than one imagined. It all takes about 30 seconds to be comfortably and securely home.
Where you can re-imagine your life. Going home will let me just think about and rewind my life so far, the choices I made, stupid or otherwise. More importantly, it well let me think about the future, my future. At the end of the year, I find myself 26 years old, living in New York, with a job that is stimulating and challenging that I enjoy and that gets me to travel all over the country. At the same time, it is painfully obvious that music is taking a back seat and that I have to ration my time with those who are closest to me, alienating me more from the life I once had and the life I actually wanted. My reconciliation of both lives has been less than successful.
Every Sunday when I get on the plane I become a different person. The go-getter, the management consultant who will do anything for her clients.

But then the dawn of Friday breaks and the most precious thing is to have that boarding card in my hand that says Minneapolis/Chicago/Tuscon (insert city of your choice) to New York Laguardia.
In New York I am ecstatic in the studio writing music or on a stage singing. Nothing could make me happier. But it would almost be inhuman to say that I didn’t miss my friends and a little bit of social life. I try to squeeze that in between studio sessions and meal times. I finally feel like I’m in my own skin, I feel confident, comfortable and pleased to call myself a musician. And then Sunday rolls around again and I put my consultant face on and am back on a plane before I know it, leaving music, friends, love and life behind for another week. Realistically, I’ve asked myself, how long can I keep an insanity like this going?

That is what I need familial help with. They will talk me through every situation, put their heads together for hours and days to get me to a place where I can be comfortable with my choices—to give me a plan. They will give me support I need. To be able to cry about things I'm unhappy about (mum) and to work them out logically and sensibly (dad), to make snide remarks about the job, men, colleagues and clients (brother dearest), to swoon over movie stars and bitch and moan about boyfriends (aunts) and to just chill out, not worry and laugh at silly jokes (uncles and grandfather). And after many a cathartic session I hope to get back on the plane with an idea. A clearer picture perhaps. And definitely a slightly less tortured version of my 2008 self.

"Are you high??"

So this is how it works; I am the lyricist and melody writer in this humble project of ours called Ariya. My co-conspirator, Rawn Randall, comes up with all the great arrangements, production and bass playing.
This blog, I suppose, will be about where my inspirations come from lyrically and melodically. Lyrically would be easier to put on virtual paper for obvious reasons. There maybe more, there maybe less, there may be the regurgitations of an exasperated human being. Hopefully, you'll enjoy the ride.

It sounds absolutely clichéd, I suppose, to say that everyday situations inspire me. But the fact of the matter is that it is the everyday occurrences that do provide the best fuel for lyrics, most of the time. Relatable and accessible.
For instance, the lyrics to Rescue are about wanting to help someone, something and in rescuing them I believe I could find my own salvation. But the lyrics were written in a way that I hope will allow the listener to extract their own meaning that is relevant to their own life.

A scenario: A party, this person, a friend, has invited you. You're standing across the room trying to make conversation with people but your eyes don't leave this friend. His hand is around this other woman and he seems happy and content. As a friend you’re happy that he's happy, but you also feel punched in the gut. And he has no idea. And you're burning up inside with questions--some that make sense, some that make your eyes roll all the way to the back of your head. But you *need* to ask. Do you? Would you? Would it have disastrous consequences? Are you brave enough or idiotic enough to take the plunge?
This is the song ~Why~. I envisioned it, like a film strip in my head, and decided to write about it.

21C is a song that didn’t quite get coherent enough to be recorded but I still think the lyrics that I wrote for that song are some of the best that I have written.

Imagine you’re walking on 110^th Street and Amsterdam Avenue in NYC on a very rainy Saturday night. If you haven’t had the luxury (or misfortune) to visit that part of Manhattan, imagine a rainy night on a bar-infested road, where the bars are so tiny they spill on to the tar roads. You see the ‘regulars’ with their ‘usuals’; there seems to be a hush every time you pass a bar. ‘How empty’, you think. Your clothes are soaking wet but that’s not what’s weighing you down. A candle in a window on the third floor of a walk-up, one bell to ring and a missed opportunity is revealed, a question is answered, a decision is finally reached. Your problem is, sitting on the stoop of the building where there is that window with a candle and the doorbell to ring, do you want to know? Is the possible pain from the outcome of this revelation worth the risk or would you rather leave it as a question risking that the possible joy you might revel in just might be life-altering?

Again, the lyrics are tailored to fit any questions the listener is afraid to ask, perhaps. “Will I be transferred to a different country?”; “Did I pass the test?” “Should I leave this place and totally change my life?” or the most mundane of all…”Does he love me?”

Life’s about the meaning the mundane gives, the meaning of the grey between the stark blacks and whites. When the grey clears you see the Technicolour that puts definition, meaning and clarity in life. But where would we be without the mundane? Would we know that there was colour beyond if we couldn’t recognise the grey in front of us, constantly clouding our logic, judgement and emotions?

What do I know? These are just the ramblings of a singer/lyricist who’s trying to get an inspiration along the way. Or I could be drunk. You pick.

(I’d post the actual lyrics but I’m afraid of rights issues… understandably. Check us out on www.myspace.com/ariyamuse and www.myspace.com/ariyamuzak)