I am an artist. It took me a long time to become comfortable saying that. Not because I didn’t want to be known as an “artist”, but because I always thought an artist did something good for the world. I thought “artists” and “art” made the world a better place. Now, many years later, I have no issue self-describing as an artist, but I’m still burdened with the belief that what I do is selfish. I write music, and I don’t think I could ever stop doing what I do or being who I am, but there is a voice inside reminding me that what I do is only in my self-interest. As artists we can’t know whether our creations will have any effect on anyone for good or for worse. Yet, we do these things regardless. We do them for ourselves. That’s the line we come to live with—our art is for ourselves first and foremost. We do this for peace of mind, to calm an inexorable urge within ourselves; we do this for survival. We have to be selfish. Our work is only truly our own if we are selfish about it.
The world doesn’t need me. is both a reflection on and a reflection of that selfishness. I often write music that has an atmosphere to it, a landscape for you to experience the piece in. However, I took that notion a step further with The world doesn’t need me. With this work, I sought to create an organic ecosystem of sorts, a world created through music that lives and breathes and grows. Some parts of this world are tumultuous, some parts are messy, but there is also beauty. The role of the electronics in this piece extends beyond effects pedals and amplifiers. I created an electronic system that records little bits of what the performer is playing at certain points in the piece. Those recordings get manipulated and played back to create an atmosphere for the performer to exist in. None of the material played back is pre-recorded before the performance. Everything is captured as the piece unfolds; the seeds are sown for the harvest to grow. During the last two minutes of the piece the performer sits there without playing a note as the electronics continue on their own organically, building a new world out of old materials. The ecosystem of this piece absorbs what the performer gives to it, and creates new life out of it. When our work leaves our hands we can no longer control how it may affect the world. We can only hope that it leads to something beautiful.
When this piece was commissioned, the world had stopped. Writing music seemed unnecessary. Who was I writing for? Who would even be listening when everyone is too worried about staying alive? But I wrote anyway. These questions never stopped swirling in my head. The question of “Why?” was never more present in my mind than during the process of writing this piece. Now, I sit down and take account of what is happening in the world, and I admit to myself that the world doesn’t need me to make art. But I need this, and sometimes we just do what we need to do to survive.
- Andrew M Rodriguez
Recorded November 14, 2021 in Champaign, Illinois.
Production, mixing, mastering: Andrew M Rodriguez
Photo credit: Andrew M Rodriguez
Guitar: Jamie Monck
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