Over the years I’ve gotten used to many of the people around me thinking the music I love is strange. Most of my family, friends, a lot of the percussive arts community, even some of my students and colleagues. Forget about the American public as a whole; if they pay attention to what I’m doing at all it’s only to ridicule it.
But it’s a newer and tougher pill to swallow to see how much my daughters dismiss my work. I knew I wouldn’t be the center of their universe forever, but still it came up faster than I anticipated how marginalized experimental and Hindustani music is in their world view. I’ve had a privileged life so I don’t publicly complain much about things, but it does get tiring having to justify my existence over and over again. People seem to understand that my teaching has value–and my daughters do see that my university job translates to money which translates to a roof over their heads and food on the table–but beyond that I think they’re at a loss as to why I spend so much time and energy composing music that few people listen to, making films that few people watch, practicing pieces that most people dislike, and singing a style of Indian classical music that most people find tough sledding.
Maybe they’re right. I could quit it all tomorrow and the world would keep spinning just fine. I wouldn’t even get fired from my university job. Nothing would happen at all. Except I’d rather die. Seriously, if I can’t make experimental music I’d rather not be on this planet. It’s what I was made to do.
So, to hell with it. I’m going to get up tomorrow and make more experimental music. The world needs it, even if it doesn’t know it. And more importantly, I need it.