Seven Quarantine Poems by The Flashbulb

 After 21 years of having the privilege of being able to call myself a professional musician, I've realized that writing or producing music is mostly about strategically organizing creative sacrifices and knowing when to hold back on a particular instrument or sound. This sacrifice is for the sake of the overall delivered mix. And that mix becomes tethered to a musician until the distant time comes when the last person listens to their music.

By removing the bells and whistles of modern music production and confining a song to one instrument, less sacrifices need to be made. It's liberating at times. Other times it feels raw, naked, and exposed. When I made "Compositions For Piano", I felt like an imposter. As if the ghost of a "real" jazz pianist was looking over my shoulder and vibing me. This led to sacrifices. I switched modes and scales less frequently than I'd like and pandered to thematic melodies more. That led to a thematic piano album that, over time, exceeded my expectations with its reception and inclusion on many listener's playlists for background music while studying or eating dinner.

I intended to make a part 2, and I still do. But this isn't that. This is my melodic comfort zone. It's too abstract or pretentious for a soundtrack or theme. Too rich and soupy for all of the sounds and features of electronic music. Simply and comedically put, it has "too many notes". I don't know what to call it other than "me". When I make time to be alone with a piano and want to express myself for the sake of my own therapy, this is what it sounds like, an audible EEG machine or translator.

These aren't compositions as much as they are common places, usually tethered to specific feelings or memories, that I found myself improvising around throughout 2020. What you're hearing is a single performance of these common places. I'll never play them note-by-note, as they're mostly improvised and will change with me.

Enjoy my raw melodic place.

-Benn