I have dedicated my life to the pursuit of intangibles: poetry, theology, philosophy, music. My pursuit was essentially free. My professors told me what to read and study, which was good guidance in the formation of my mind and my critical judgement. But when it came to writing papers, I freely chose what subject to write on, who and what to study, what to say. In the writing of poetry, I chose when to write, what to write, what style to use, what feeling to express. In music, I wrote what was in my heart as the muse beckoned.
I remember my early impressions of professional ministry. When I first took on a parish, I remember thinking, “This is a job!” I was compelled to write a 2 1/2 page single spaced talk every week. I was compelled to pick hymns, Bible readings, Psalters, and every Sunday to suit up and lead the service. Then there was dealing with the personalities, petty complaints, infighting, and other distasteful things that arise in seemingly every parish. Previous to taking on professional ministry, I would read theology at my leisure, pray when my heart was moved, commune freely with my Creator and Friend. Now I prayed on demand, read theology with an eye to using it in my homily, communed according to the prescriptions of the job. But this is not complaint. I love this job more than any other job I’ve ever done. I just never thought that my heartfelt devotion would feel like a job.
Now I am discovering that music is a business. Sure, you hear talk about the music business all the time. But to find yourself in it?! It is a business that requires as much delicacy as does balancing the personalities in a parish. A good friend of mine, who is an international pianist, has been giving me much appreciated, much needed advice about the “business” of music. I am making a CD of my original music. In order to make a quality disk, I needed first rate musicians. I inquired of a well-established musician in my home town, and he set me up with a musician to play on one song. This musician took an interest in my music, or my money. He appointed himself executive producer, and made plans about the future of my disk and my musical career. When I decided he was getting too intrusive, I made calls on my own to hire my own musicians. The musicians I contacted talked, the “executive producer” found out I was making decisions on my own, confronted me, and laid down the law of how our business relationship was to be. Now I am embroiled in an imbroglio. All I want to do is record my originals. But there is a business side to music, even as there is a business side to theology. Even as there is a business side to everything in this material world.
One of the characteristics of my music is a tone of peacefulness. The music is all written, and only needs recording, mixing, and mastering. And that can’t be done without entering the business of music. But that peace I entered into in the writing of my music is seriously compromised now with the business of production and the soap opera of the interwoven world of musicians. I had no idea that manifesting my music would mean entering an internecine world of rivals for my wallet and musical future. It’s comforting to know that it’s all written, and written when I was in a better place. Where this new magical mystery tour will take me, I can’t foresee. What it will do to my future compositions, I don’t know. I only know this, my naivety has met the world. It seems that on this material plane, intangibles manifest through business. Some people make business their life’s calling. I have dedicated my life to intangibles, not business. But I now see, sadly, that maturity means dirtying one’s hands with the negotiation of money and the people who come with it.
David Fekete 