My friend Lua Hadar is releasing a NEW CD with her new band, Twist.
She describes this  CD as "a
cosmopolitan mix of original, international and standard jazz tunes
"twisted" in a surprising fusion." In other words, jazz done up
a la Lua.

But wasn’t it just yesterday that Lua released her first CD, "It’s About Time?" It seems like it wasn’t that long ago. And here she is releasing yet another with a whole different feel and sound. It’s hard not to be exceedingly jealous.

I don’t have a CD. I have an old, very old demo of 4 songs. But I recorded them so long ago, and I’m singing so much better these days, that it’s hard to want to give it away to venue owners and such. I just don’t feel connected to it anymore.

Yet EVERYONE seems to have their own CD. Or two. I mean, everyone in my small circle of singer friends. Lua. Linda. Shaynee. Terese. Pammie.

The truth is, it hasn’t been a priority. Until lately. See, my husband thinks producing your own CD is just a big ego-centric indulgence. Especially for someone like me who has no plans of making a full-time career out of singing. I sing and perform because I love it. It’s just who I am.

And I’ve known many a singer who invests thousands of dollars into creating a CD and never makes that money back in sales. Shoot, I almost lost my savings creating my demo!

So, yes. For me to produce my own CD would be a big, huge, expensive ego trip.

And I still want to do it.

Because here’s the deal. I’ve been in the business of creating experiences for a long time now. Whether is was planning and executing special events in my fund raising days, or doing bodywork; most all of my strengths have been in creating experiences for other people.

Kind of like my brother-in-law’s cooking. He is a master chef who creates some of the most amazing meals I’ve ever eaten in my life. He spends weeks and weeks planning them, researching recipes, shopping for ingredients, preparing them…even doing "dress rehearsals" where he tries out certain dishes beforehand. Then, the big night comes and he performs his magic in the kitchen, dashing about the kitchen as he coordinates the timing of what comes out when.

The meal is magnificent and greedily devoured by everyone. In about 20-30 minutes. Weeks of work, then… poof! His creation is gone, scarfed down by appreciative eaters.

Live music is like that. You pour your heart, soul, time, thought and creative sweat into preparing a musical meal for your audience, and then you serve it up, gladly. And all that’s left to show for it is a warm fuzzy feeling of satisfaction, a kind of afterglow.

And while this is as it should be, I’ve always wanted to be an artist who could make something tangible, something I could hold in my hand and give to someone. This desire is why I  took up beading once. I thought, "I know, I’ll make beaded jewelery! Something people can wear! Something I can wrap and give as a gift."

But I wasn’t any good at it. Not really. I had no eye for design or what beads would work well with others. And as I get older, it gets harder to see tiny shiny beads with their minuscule holes while trying to string almost invisible string through those minuscule holes. I gave up.

This is my long-winded way of saying, sure, it may be a self-indulgent ego trip to pour thousands of dollars into creating a CD. But I still want to do it.

And I will.