Homogenize the Vibe

I am blessed.
I am cursed.
As of today, I am a sandbag with a tear in it and my sand is fast departing.
There is a young lady whom I was put in touch with to help her with her attempts at recording music. She’d made several stabs at the process with some folks who just didn’t get the plot, and through a very talented friend of mine was put in touch with me so that I might shed a light. Glad to do so, as even though music has been a cruel mistress at times, I’ve managed to make a very good living at it over the course of some thirty odd years and consider myself to be rather proficient at any number of musical tasks, not the least of which is helping someone to realize their potential by virtue of my capabilities as a producer, arranger, and mixer.
After many discussions with the young lady and her mother, too, I presented a modest budget and a time frame for two songs which was unilaterally accepted. The budget was minuscule. We were only looking to get two to be gentle on their pocketbook and their psyche given they’d already spent a lump sum of money and several months of time with others only to end up with kaka. By tackling only two, the bleeding would be held to a minimal if they weren’t happy with the results, but if they liked what they heard, then we could proceed and build from what we’d already started. A simple plan. A good plan.
After consideration on their part, the green light was illuminated and I proceeded to dive in, head, hands, and feet. Happily. Eagerly. A child in the throes of discovery.
I enjoyed the process. Immensely. Met some new folk. Was introduced to new recording methods. Had some giggles. The sounds that poured forth moved me to my core and made life worth living. I put on the dog. She was giddy. I danced with the stars and the moon.
Mixing was arduous. Pop songs are highly complex animals, even though they don’t sound so. Teeth grinding angst set in, knowing we were on a rigid time frame, leaping off the cliff as I was, and fear and doom tried to get the better of me from time to time but one thing I am is confident. We persevered, and even though a twenty hour day on the last day of mixing, we got ‘er done.
Happy. Tired.
Two days later, when I was to begin the next assignment, I had her drop into the studio to hear the mixes as she’d been unable to be there during the work due to starting college.
The stage was set.
I knew we were in trouble when she turned the sound down in the beginning of the first mix. Not completely, but enough to let you know that was the first objection in a list to come. My teeth turned to tin and my temples throbbed.
When the strains from the last mix dissipated into nothing, there were a few nervous titters from her, then she dove in... about what she didn’t like, never saying she liked any of it. The list wasn’t long... at all... but not one word was uttered to liking any of it. Any of it.
After the time and energy and expertise I put in this wasn’t exactly the response I wanted to hear. I didn’t need her to drop to her knees and demand to suck my dick... no... but some kudos where deserved woulda been okay. And there were plenty.
The sand is almost gone.
Knocked to my knees by an unknowing white girl.
I will continue, repacking my bag with new sand, more fortified than before, and one day the young white woman might get it, but it matters not as my time on that project is done and I leave it behind, unable nor wanting to change a thing. It is what it is. I am what I am. And today is a day for new things.