Kevin Reynolds – Síocháin
Kevin’s dedication to his craft cannot be overstated. He convinced me that, to adequately cover the emotions he wanted to convey in a song for Somnambulant Drift, he needed three months of expenses for a trip to the motherland (his, not mine). He wanted to channel the spirit of his ancestors in his ancestral land, and how could I stand in the way of his artistic vision?
So the label bought his requested business class ticket to Galway via Dublin, arranged an expense account, and prepared to send him on his way. I thought it was odd when, upon picking him up for the airport, he came to the car with an Igloo cooler and a TJ Maxx bag rather than traditional luggage. But as David Bowie said, “Eccentricity is not, as some would believe, a form of madness.” And there’s no accounting for genius.
In encouraging the creative process, I have always felt that a delicate balance between unstructured creative time and the structure of deadlines and goals is required. With a timeframe already decided, I left Kevin to his devices in Ireland. I resisted the urge to check in until two months had passed, at which time we had a video call on which Kevin showed me many beautiful, striking sweater designs he had created. I didn’t understand how this tied into his music making, but I trust Kevin’s instincts.
At three months, I got a telegram, which I didn’t even know you could still send, saying that Kevin needed at least six more weeks. Apparently, there was no internet where he was, and he had moved on from knitting and taken a short apprenticeship with a shepherd in the Irish countryside. I nervously agreed, and kept my fingers crossed that the rolling meadows and ancient, hand-built stone structures would be conveyed through this amazing piece of forthcoming music.
I heard nothing, and at five weeks, the label’s coffers were running low. I got in touch with Kevin once again, he needed more time. He had entered an intensive recorder training at the fabled Saul Monastery, which I figured was at least tangentially related to music. He wanted another six weeks, and I reluctantly obliged.
Upon his belated return to the United States, I expected a volume of music from which to select a song. Despite his rich experiences, Kevin returned with the same cooler and shopping bag, and not a single composition. Understandably irate, I gave him 24 hours to come up with a song. He did me one better and delivered two hauntingly beautiful portraits of his travels.
The moral, as I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, is that there are more people learning Irish on Duolingo than the native population of Irish speakers.
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