Reading the Iliad Like I’m Shopping for Gear
Outing myself a bit here. I'm an antiquarian. Reading The Iliad. Deeply.
Have I ever read the whole thing? Dunno--so it’s slow going. But I’ve got it in my mind, and I’m kind of getting it. It’s wonderful for all kinds of reasons, and I’m trying to read it as slow as possible.
One of the weird things I keep doing is looking at different translations. I own two different translations and seem to shopping for a 3rd!? Instead of sitting down and reading the book, I read about the translations—which is ridiculous.
"Research"
Funnily enough, it’s completely analogous to songwriting.
You’ve got songs to write, you want to get going, and suddenly you’re fixated on gear. You’re reading about gear. You’re thinking about gear. You’re convinced the next piece of gear is the thing that’s going to unlock everything. Musicians act like that’s purely musical or artistic, but I think it’s just how we are. It’s human.
The Iliad is interesting because I know I’ll be a better person after I read and digest it. This is a fact. You can’t debate it. It’s a thing—generally accepted with academics and my fellow antiquarians.
That’s why I’m reading it-- for edification, to be better. To improve my life. For music. For family. For being a better driver. For everything. The promise of it connecting you to the universe as a whole feels very real to me, and it feels worth it.
So what if it doesn’t work? The time risk is worth it. Worst-case scenario, I read a great piece of literature and poetry that our entire society is probably based on.
So this is all to say: don’t ever feel bad for another day because you’re trying to buy something instead of actually making music. We all do it. We do it in different forms throughout our lives. I bet it’s always been the thing.
And maybe that’s somewhere in The Iliad, right? It tells you why you buy all this freaking gear. I don’t know.