#this album rewired by brain felt like i had to share

[girlsbtrs]

Lia Menaker on her music, inspirations, and teaming up with Melanated Social Work

Written and edited by James N. Grey. Graphic by Moira Ashley. 

Lia Menaker wants to support Black lives, specifically within the mental health sphere. So she donated the proceeds from her album, I am Kyrøs, toward ending the stigma around mental health in those communities. Girls Behind the Rock Show connected with her to get her perspective on her music, her identification with the cause, and how she feels it all ties together.

How did you find Melanated Social Work and how did you identify with their cause? 

I actually know one of the founders personally, Marvin Toliver, so I’ve been following their social media and learning about the organization from him. We are talking a lot about police reform and the justice system now, which is great and important. But we often forget about the health component. And these guys, in their focus on the liberation of Black and Brown people, are working to end the stigma around mental health in Black and Brown communities, and working to make sure mental health professionals are truly culturally competent. I realized that they were the best place to dedicate my resources and time to.

What inspired you to donate your Bandcamp proceeds to them?

George Floyd was killed just weeks before my EP was set to release. And when the riots started, and the country started waking up to the level of police brutality threatening people of color, and the injustice of our institutions, it felt very strange to release the EP. The intersection of everything—COVID-19, the racial disparities and economic inequalities thus heightened, and the slew of unjust murders of POC—all became this giant traumatic thing our country was experiencing. I felt Black voices should be heightened, and in many ways, felt that it wasn't the right time to share the music. But on the other side of things, I also knew the world needed as much art as possible, of all kinds. Since the songs dealt with identity and the self, they could relate to what was going on in many ways. 

I decided the best thing to do would be to release the music as planned, and in between the sharing and promoting of the album, to highlight as many Black voices and resources and information as possible. I wanted this to incorporate a donation and some awareness of solid Black-run organizations. 

How has being Kyrøs allowed you to be more creative and free? 

The word “kairos” is an ancient Greek concept referring to that perfect melding of space and time when it’s the opportune moment to act. It was a way of measuring time in moments (versus “kronos,” which was their concept for chronological time). When I came across the word, it felt like it described my change as an artist to a T. And once I took on the name, all that history that comes with one’s name—the feelings, memories, habits and obstacles that came with 30+ years of being “Lia Menaker”— dissolved. I think I subconsciously felt the freedom to try new things. 

I started producing, and getting super creative on my live streams. I was improv-ing with no idea what I was doing, but it didn’t matter. I just kept doing it and didn’t feel the same self-judgment I’d had before. Approaching music with a sort of reckless abandon allowed me to be the best and boldest version of myself.

But what’s interesting is even the things that free you can start to take control of you. That high you get from being in such an open, creative space…you can only ride that wavelength for so long. At some point, you get stuck again, and you find yourself chasing that high. It can become an addiction, you know? 

In a way, I ended up clinging to that identity of who I was when I was kyrøs, and I didn’t realize it until I was literally releasing the songs. It’s a big reason why it became the album name instead of my new artist name. I realized it was really more of an alter ego all along. That it didn’t replace Lia Menaker as an artist. So it turns out I was still learning lessons on identity as I was releasing the songs!

How did your childhood in theater and pop music inspire you?

While kids watched shows like Sesame Street and Barney, I was watching Annie, The Sound of Music, [and] Peter Pan… I was always drawn to it and felt like I could see myself in the characters. I begged my mom to do a musical at age 6 (Oliver), and then I was hooked doing musicals the rest of my childhood and most of my young adult life. So I think it felt like a language I understood, a form of expression I connected to on another level. There was always a story to the songs, an arc, [and] often, deep emotion and expressive vocals. I think the way I approach music—my soulfulness and the way I connect to it—comes from years of growing up with that. Also, I think a lot of my phrasing and how I articulate words comes from the musical theatre influence.

I think it was later in life that pop music began to really inspire me. Discovering Joni Mitchell was a huge one. Her incredible use of lyrics (in my opinion, she’s one of the lyrical greats and extremely underrated), and her 100% unabashed authenticity and womanliness was captivating. Her music is poetic, moody, unique—filled with so much complex emotion and story. Lyrically, I think my first album (Animal Behavior, in 2015) shows some of her influence on me. Especially the opening track, “Holding My Space.” 

But pop aside, some of the great jazz vocalists were a big influence on me as well. It started with Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday. It was an easy segue because they sang a lot of Gershwin and musical theatre covers, but then I delved deeper into their work, and eventually found (and fell in love with) Nina Simone too. The raw, warm, raspy, bold voice filled with more soul and both joy and pain than I could imagine. And I always found that type of music so beautiful as a kid. I just found that part of people to be equally as beautiful as the lighter side, and found expressing pain through art to be the most incredible thing. So when I heard music that captured that, I think I was always intrigued. 

What storylines in your 30's did you find that you were shucking off?

I had this limited view of myself my whole life as a singer/performer. Since I was 6 years old, that was my life: community theatre as a kid, studying musical theatre at Penn State, tours and regional theatre, then songwriting, music and singing in every fashion. It was the way I saw my value to the world, and I basically lived for my dreams and goals—this is how I saw whether or not I was successful. And the thought of not reaching them consumed me… 

I always felt I wasn’t measuring up to whom I could be. This was a huge storyline I had to face: this idea of not being enough right now. And then it got me thinking about all this living in the ego… and “if I’m not my dreams, my goals, or even my job, what am I?” This inspired the song “Some Kind” because I realized if I wasn’t those things I most identified with, I was still me. A lot of the lyrics to that song express the storylines I grappled with, and also how I made sense of them: “We measure all that’s left with time - a calculated art. The things we do that give us pride, we hold up high as if it’s all that we are / All the stories give us meaning - keep us moving on… make it real. Run our choices, our bodies - keep us fused to what we feel.” 

I would look back periodically at my life and think things like “What have I even done? My tour wasn’t successful enough, not enough people are listening to my music, I don’t make the money I should be making at this age, I’ll never amount to anything.” [I used] whatever metrics I thought would show me proof of a valuable life. I still struggle with them sometimes. Realizing the storylines is just the start. You have to keep checking yourself [and make sure] that you’re not caught up in them again. They were ingrained in my head for years, so it takes time to rewire the brain. 

Ultimately, in my 30s, I’m finding so much more joy in the process and the creation itself, and trying to practice looking at what I have in my life as “enough.” The older I get, the more I see life passing quicker, and the more I just want to take it all in. To bask in love and music and the feeling of living with versus without. The 30s are a great time, because I think it’s the decade where a lot of us start to realize these things. Though, of course, some of us go our entire lives without feeling like we are, or we have enough. And new storylines will always be created, so we have to just keep checking ourselves. Especially when we’re all so obsessed with social media. Social media is literally a collection of storylines.

What inspired you to meld together eclectic sounds? Why a soulful, jazzy voice with a minimalistic background?

I’ve always loved warm, jazz vocals. As I mentioned earlier, I grew up engrossed in musical theatre, and that included a lot of standards by singers like Nina Simone, Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald. About four years ago, I also re-fell in love with Amy Winehouse and started really listening to her vocals and her style, pinpointing what it was that I loved so much. There’s a mix of this warmth and authenticity, but with a modern edge that just hits you in all the right places. So that’s what’s inspired my sound vocally.

But at the same time, I’m a big fan of using unconventional sounds and challenging people’s ears. A lot of what I’ve listened to over the past few years has strong electronic elements. SOHN is one I’m really drawn to, and he’s brilliant at the mix of pure/simple and unconventional. He has this way of putting a simple, soaring, haunting vocal over a backdrop of complex, evolving electronic elements. It’s a sound that you can’t produce with conventional instruments. When I first heard him, it blew my mind—it was like a spiritual experience, and I thought “I want to do THAT!” Susanne Sundfor’s Silicone Veil album was a big game changer for me too. 

I loved the idea of marrying the two worlds—this classic, timeless feel with an electronic modern sound that reflects the times—to create something authentic to me and my influences. With so much of our world being digital now, it felt right to experiment with electronic elements. And when I started playing around with new software, and some samples, beats, and different gear, it just all slowly started to meld together into a sound that felt right.

What were some favorite ways that you experimented with sounds and techniques to achieve your sound? Anything that you might take over with you into the future?

A lot of the experimentation happened (and continues to happen) during my weekly live streams on Twitch (@liamenaker). It’s sort of the place where I have permission to work through songs, try stuff out, and honestly just have a lot of fun and engage with others during the creation process. The community there is also so incredibly supportive and open. The last song I wrote for the album, “Imprinted,” started out as some improv loops and just fooling around on my Twitch live stream: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3xWjEAYAa7w. And I have at least four others waiting in the queue to finish that also began the same way. One of which I sent over to a jazz funk band in Paris to collaborate with me on. So I’ll definitely keep this as part of my approach. 

Aside from that, my process is always changing, to be honest. So I’m trying to remain open to new techniques and approaches, and to keep allowing myself to be inspired by other artists and sounds. I’d like to explore more synth sounds and recording techniques, and just keep improving as an artist and producer as well. One thing I’ve noticed, too, is if I zero in too much on one writing approach or technique, I start to cling to it, relying on that as the way I “should” write everything. And then things just start to feel stale for me, or I run out of juice or hit a writer’s block. Then I find a new technique or gear or collaboration. I guess that’s why my approach keeps changing. We’ll see how long the current one sticks for, ha!

Which track on the EP is your favorite and why?

I think it keeps changing. But at the moment, the opening track "All My Life" is my favorite. I’m really connecting to the meditative and tribal nature of it, and I think the chorus is the catchiest of the songs. It has that "nobody's gonna bring me down!" feeling too, which feels extra relevant now, as many of us in the country feel like we're just pushing forward, doing everything we can to make things work during this difficult time.

I constantly imagine songs in other places: are there any movies/TV shows or any other places where you'd imagine your songs would play?

I can see some of these in crime and murder mystery-type shows. I’ve had people tell me “Imprinted” has a Twin Peaks or James Bond feel to it. So maybe a show or movie with a kind of slinky jazz lounge vibe. There’s definitely a meditative, tribal feel to some of the songs too, so I think they could work in a movie/TV show with that vibe. But honestly, I think less about music in terms of specific movies or TV shows, and more about fitting themes. So, for example, “All My Life” is perfect to capture that theme of being unstoppable, or a character finally going after their dream. “Stranger” would work well for a theme of not feeling like yourself or acting out of character. I think a lot of the songs on the album fit clear, universal themes, and so I’m hoping that I can find some success pitching these to music supervisors, production companies, etc.

For all us young'un's out there: How much of our identity is actually wrapped up in our dreams? Do you think it's important to separate our dreams, identity, and realities?

Uh oh… you’re going to get me on a soapbox, ha!

So I think it’s different for everyone, but I think it’s fair to say that for most of us, yes, our identity is either wrapped up in our dreams and/or in our work. Think about it. When we meet people, how often do we ask, “What do you do?” as if the answer will give us an accurate idea of who they really are. And how often do we judge people based on their careers?

But the truth is, achievements DO NOT define who you are, and do not define your worth, value, or potential. And while dreams can shape us, they can also limit us. They can keep us from seeing other sides of ourselves. And when we’re hyper focused on them, we miss out on so much beauty! I find the most memorable moments of life are actually quiet, behind the scenes, and not at all the result of working towards a dream or goal. [Goals] are not as great when they determine your ultimate view of yourself and control your amount of suffering. 

I think I’m just realizing now too, that I hate the term “dream.” Dream sounds like an “all or nothing” approach. “Ideal” feels more flexible. For some reason, it feels healthier for me to look at it as “my ideal situation” version “my dream.”All around us, we’re being told we need to “dream big” and “you can do whatever you set your mind to” and “live up to your potential.” We love to dote on famous and rich people or take courses on how to be like them. Those who never “make it” (whatever that awful phrase even means) are looked at as failures, less successful, not as worthy or talented or smart. It’s. All. Bullshit. And the song on the EP “Imprinted” basically revolves around all of this. 

So do I think it’s important to separate our dreams, identity, and realities? I think it’s probably unrealistic to try to. I think it’s all intertwined. Our dreams (or “ideal situation,” ha) will probably shape a bit of who we are (our identity). But I think the key is to understand [that] it’s a very small, ego-driven piece of who we are, and doesn’t ultimately define us. And I think it’s important to see our identities (and dreams for that matter) as constantly shifting. To, as one of my favorite spiritual teachers Pema Chödrön talks about, get comfortable with the fact that the ground beneath us is always shifting. I think it’s healthy to incorporate the stuff on the ego-level (dreams, identity) and the stuff underneath, the non-ego (that pure essence of who we are underneath the dreams, underneath the identity perceptions, underneath all judgments and experiences). Because while the stuff on the surface doesn’t define the essence of who we are, it’s still a reality that we take the train into work, or have to cook dinner for the kids, or need to make money to survive, right? These are still very real; they’re just not the full picture. And that’s the important part.

I think it’s especially important for the younger generations to pay attention to all of this in the age of social media. [Social media has] made understanding the truth of who we are and the idea of living in the non-ego so hard. Social media is all ego, storylines. I’m not saying it doesn’t have a lot of good aspects to it too. But it make[s] it very hard to feel and see the layers of a situation. Things are often black and white on social media, and we are sold specific messages on what it means to be successful and happy. It’s a system based on instant gratification (likes, comments, followers), and we have the tendency to add it up to calculate our value. If we’re not careful, it can drive us further from the whole truth, and deeper into the storylines.

Lia Menaker’s album I am Kyrøs is available now on https://liamenaker.bandcamp.com/. 

All proceeds throughout the month of July benefit Melanated Social Work [https://www.instagram.com/melanatedsocialwork/?hl=en]. 

[projectalbum]

177. “Hail to the Thief,” 178. “In Rainbows,” 179. “King of Limbs,” 180. “A Moon Shaped Pool” by Radiohead

Here we are. At that point where I have to defend my previous assertion that Hail to the Thief (#177) is closer to my heart than the widely-beloved Kid A. And here we go…

There are 14 tracks, far more than any other Radiohead album, and I only dislike one of them. And it’s not “We Suck Young Blood” (it’s “The Gloaming”). Like, “Blood” is a creepy, chain-rattling chiller with deliberately cracked vocals and that cool little jazzy breakdown between the verses. “The Gloaming” is like a ghost taking a nap.

Even stranger, my favorite songs are all in a little clump in the last third. Right after the aforementioned downers, this suite of winners begins with “There, There,” the lead single. Featuring one of the loveliest, slightly gritty guitar lines in the catalogue and a chorus lyric (“Just ‘cause you feel it, doesn’t mean it’s there”) that stings, if not like a knife in the heart, than maybe like a sharpened icicle in the lower abdomen. “I Will” is one second shy of 2 minutes, but there is beauty in the utter simplicity of gently-strummed electric guitar and three-part Yorke harmony. It’s the soundtrack to staring into a dying fire. And it transitions right into “A Punchup At a Wedding,” slinky and pissed-off at once, sitting next to “You and Whose Army?” as the straight-up coolest piano numbers. One of these days, mark my words, I will master it, because it’s just fairly repetitive chords. But the distinct rhythm of the pounding on the keys has always slightly eluded me.

The escalating tension of this killer suite boils over in crunchy, foreboding synth and aggressive drums on “Myxomatosis.” “I— don’t— know— why I— feel so— tongue… tied” is, I believe, the exact cadence of the chorus, and I can identify with those moments when the churning chemical processes make articulate expression impossible.

15 years on, Thief remains hard for people to pin down. Though there are a few “angry” songs, the material is not explicitly about political leaders or Blair or Bush. That title pun was read as a pissy, middle finger salute as on-the-nose as a Banksy, despite any statements made by the band members to downplay that interpretation. Unlike the albums that made their name, this collection of songs lacks an over-arching thematic focus, which may still hurt its legacy. But I will continue to argue passionately for the music’s inherent strength. The follow-up, released four years later, requires no such defense.

In Rainbows (#178) was my introduction to Radiohead. It has and will probably fulfill that same purpose for a lot of others. From 2007-2010, I was in college, majoring in film production and spending a lot of time in a windowless room filled with iMacs. I give you the range of years, because I’m not positive just how fresh the surprise late-’07 digital release of that album was when my friend Seth handed me the thumb drive in that iMac editing lab. College is a time to experiment with new experiences, you see, and I really only followed that credo when it came to dadaist TV comedies and ponderous rock bands. So in that sterile environment, when I should have been working, I put in earbuds instead.

“15 Step” began with clapboard beats played through a glitchy hard drive. Thom lamented another repeat of the vicious cycle. Then Jonny’s guitar came in, soft and inviting as your pillow, bolstered by Colin Greenwood’s nimble bass. A sample of schoolyard cheers, and then we stepped off the sheer drop. The rest of the album was what I saw as I fell and hit the ocean’s surface, a sort of “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge” if the man dreamt of the noose tightening anyway. “Nude” is the haughty confirmation of the protagonist’s fear in “There, There”— “Don’t get any big ideas, they’re not gonna happen” is the lilting, falsetto admonishment. It shares DNA with R.E.M.’s “Tongue” from 1994’s Monster, to the point of sibling rivalry. But Michael Stipe’s feminine protagonist on that tune feels like an amusing pose in comparison.

To continue both the R.E.M. connection and the falling man’s dilemma, the split title of “Weird Fishes/Arpeggi” acknowledges the rapid, repeating guitar technique that that band’s Peter Buck made a staple, but here it sounds like water rushing overhead. I’m sinking deeper, but I’ve determined that the way out is through. By the time the clacking boneyard beat and flickering piano of “Videotape” laid the album to rest back in that college computer lab, I felt like I’d been through something. That some synaptic pathways had been rewired by a piece of art in that way that becomes neurologically harder and harder to achieve again as the years go by. The hypnotic draw of this series of songs is impossible to shake even after an ensuing near-decade of revisitation.

By the time The King of Limbs (#179) leaked onto the web in 2011, Radiohead had been taking over my brain one used CD purchase at a time. As I collected the discography, marveling at OK Computer and puzzling at Pablo Honey, the security blanket melodies and instrumentation of In Rainbows wriggled in ever deeper. So the murky production, polyrhythmic grooves, and murmured vocals of Limbs were not immediately arresting. “It’s a grower,” I gently warned people when handing them a burned CD-R. Meaning over multiple listens, not over the course of the album: at 8 tracks and 37 minutes, it’s as fleet as a couple of their EPs.

Opener “Bloom” is like the score to a Biblical epic as listened to through a glass pressed to a hotel room wall, all muted horns and a vocal that sweeps like sun rays. “Morning Mr. Magpie” and “Little by Little” are statements of Limbs’ groove-focused identity, and melody-wise tend to blend into each other with little resistance. Where the guitar on Rainbows was a hand to guide you, here it’s another rhythm component, along with the doubled-up drum kit: as the band took the songs on the road, they enlisted Clive Deamer to join long-time drummer Philip Selway. Four hands were better than two to create the beds these compositions required.

“Feral” jettisons pop song structure completely as a cut-up chord collage dashed against unstoppable train drums.  “Lotus Flower” is 2/3rds floor-rattling bass, 2/3rds hand-claps, and 2/3rds crystalline falsetto: as mathematically impossible as Yorke’s dance moves in the video. The album closes out with three pastorally pretty and almost terminally mellow numbers: the deep embedded roots of “Codex,” the treetop birdsong of “Give Up the Ghost,” the late Sunday morning wakeup of “Separator.” The melodies are sweet invitations, but I can understand if they sound, in their final produced form, like rock n’roll Ambien. The live arrangements, like those recorded for the “From The Basement” special, are generally thought to breathe extra life into the tunes. The recent Hans Zimmer/Radiohead reimagining of “Bloom” for “Blue Planet 2” makes that song’s cinematic ambitions more readily apparent, as well. But I’ve got a soft spot for any and all versions, and don’t feel any sting of disappointment that TKOL wasn’t In Rainbows Part 2.

The 4-5 year gaps between records has proven an energizing practice for the band’s members as they explore their own projects. Jonny Greenwood created an impressive body of work as Paul Thomas Anderson’s film composer of choice, Yorke (with producer Nigel Godrich in tow) collaborated with Flea on Atoms For Peace and indulged DJ-focused electronica on the self-released Tomorrow’s Modern Boxes. Where Rainbows had drawn inspiration for its sonic approach from the close-miked intimacy of Yorke’s solo record The Eraser (more on that next time), 2016’s A Moon Shaped Pool (#180) has Greenwood’s stellar orchestral composition work threaded throughout. 

Any hazy production cobwebs from TKOL are swept aside by the Bernard Hermann stabbing strings and depth charge bass line of “Burn the Witch,” the true paranoid opus of our surveillance state age. “Red crosses on wooden doors, and if you float, you burn,” Yorke hums and coos, deliberately juxtaposing his trademark vibrating falsetto against the dire warnings. “We Know Where You Live,” stated the cryptic postcards sent to fans, and it was true, because we’ve offered our whereabouts freely to whoever will listen. “Daydreaming” follows its own somnambulant trajectory, with piano that ambles along until periodically the notes catch a long wind, to paraphrase the Feist song, swirling like cel-painted animated leaves. The video closes the gap between Jonny’s prestige film work and his longest-running gig with P.T. Anderson helming a low-key gorgeous M.C. Escher puzzle of Thom moving purposefully through an endless series of doors, spaces, environments.

Before the album dropped, I saw a live clip of Yorke debuting “Desert Island Disk,” just he and his acoustic guitar. The studio version does little to distract from that simple backbone: it’s a sweet, dexterous garden party riff bolstered with gentle drumming and subtle synth washes. “Glass Eyes,” the shortest, most melancholy track, has taken hold like an itch in the mind. Watery electric piano and Yorke’s murmured phone message verses slip through like a dream you struggle to remember the details of, until suddenly the exact angle of a cold gray street corner sparks a complete deja vu, and the heart-rending string section swells.

I’ve taken to playing “The Numbers” at inappropriate volumes, lately. Symphonic rock is nothing new, but it’s rare to hear such a mid-tempo acoustic groove be so suddenly opened up by falling stomach cello courtesy of London Contemporary Orchestra. “We call upon the people / The people have this power / The numbers don’t decide / The system is a lie” is the undeniable political exhortation, and the strings are the wielded tools of revolution: if “Burn The Witch” was a warning against mob rule, “The Numbers” is a rallying cry for positive upheaval.

“True Love Waits,” and there’s no better evidence for that sentiment than the official release of this song from the era of “The Bends.” Live performances and bootlegs through the years featured variations on acoustic guitar or Rhodes piano. Repeated attempts in the studio every few years yielded nothing wholly satisfying. In its final version, closing the album, reverb-laden grand piano and Yorke’s ghostly yearning is joined by glittering ice crystal notes that steadily accumulate. In my head I see the scene from A.I. in which the artificial boy, David, patiently and gratefully beholds the Blue Fairy, as his systems freeze into a thousand years of sleep. Melancholy become manifest.

In the next entry, I’ll jump out of alphabetical order to revisit two of Thom Yorke’s extracurricular activities.

[celebritylive]

A blind jazz piano prodigy is taking the world by storm — so much so that scientists are studying his brain to figure out how he’s able to master those talents.

Matthew Whitaker was born prematurely and with many health issues, but that hasn’t stopped the 18-year-old from making a name for himself and pursuing his dreams as a world-traveling pianist, according to CBS’ 60 Minutes.

Since he was 11 years old, Matthew has been performing jazz piano recitals, appearing in more than 200 clubs and concert halls globally, the outlet reported.

Last spring, the Hackensack, New Jersey teen appeared at the New Orleans Jazz Festival for the very first time, and now he’s involved in a new venture: helping Dr. Charles Limb with a study aimed at better understanding how exceptionally talented musicians’ brains work.

“I think anytime somebody watches Matthew play piano the first thing that you think is, ‘How does he do that?'” Limb told 60 Minutes. “Except rather than just wondering I’m actually trying to answer the question.”

View this post on Instagram Good #SundayMorning! Wishing everyone a great Sunday and #ThanksgivingWeek with your loved ones! #EverydayIsADayOfThanksgiving #matthewwhitaker #matthewwhitakermusic . . . . . . #blues #funk #jazz #jazzmusic #soul #pianist #pianomusic #pianoplayer #musician #hammondorganist #hammondorgan #yamahapianos #yamaha #grandpiano #jazzconcert #jazzeducation #talentedmusicians #musicvideo #instamusic #gospel #gospelmusic #gospelmusician

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RELATED: Blind and Partially Deaf Man Becomes Accomplished Pianist After Receiving Keyboard from a Stranger

Though he’s incredibly successful today, Matthew’s journey to becoming a piano prodigy wasn’t always easy.

When Matthew was born at 24 weeks, doctors told his parents Moses and May Whitaker that their new baby — who weighed 1 pound and 11 ounces — had less than a 50 percent chance of survival, 60 Minutes reported.

Among the many complications that he was suffering was retinopathy of prematurity, a disease caused by abnormal development of retinal blood vessels in premature babies that could lead to blindness, according to the American Association for Pediatric Ophthalmology and Strabismus.

“I think at the time, I didn’t think he was gonna make it,” May told 60 Minutes. “So it was, you know, just very scary.”

In an effort to retain his vision, Matthew underwent 11 surgeries over the course of two years. By the end of the second year, Moses and May decided to stop with the procedures because “we just felt like he was going through too much” and “the doctors weren’t seeing it was getting any better.”

But doctors warned that with the loss of Matthew’s eyesight, he may never speak, walk or crawl, according to 60 Minutes.

“Most kids learn to crawl, they learn to walk because they want to try to get to something,” Moses explained. “Well, Matthew couldn’t see to get to anything. So a lot of his toys and stuff, we had to have sounds, so that he would want to crawl want to reach those things.”

As it turned out, music was the very thing that got Matthew moving, with him crawling toward speakers as an infant to feel the music. By the time he was 3, Matthew was showing off his musical talents with a keyboard that his grandfather gifted him, according to the outlet.

“They were nursery rhymes more so than anything,” Moses said on 60 Minutes. “So they weren’t that complicated. But what he was doing was complicated. Because most kids don’t play with both hands. And they don’t play chords and the harmonies and all of that. And Matt was doing that.”

With a very clear sign of their son’s talent in front of them, the Whitakers decided to hire a piano teacher for Matthew.

And once he started working with Dalia Sakas, the director of music studies at the Filomen M. D’Agostino Greenberg Music School in New York City, Matthew’s talents began to flourish.

Though Sakas told 60 Minutes it is “insane” how Matthew can listen to a piece of music once and then recite it, she also admitted that it was a bit frightening to play such an influential role in the musician’s life.

“It was scary more than exhausting,” Sakas explained to the outlet. “Because you didn’t want to blow it. Because you have someone of this talent, of this creativity, this enthusiasm. You don’t want to squelch that. You don’t want to mess up. He’s obviously, you know, got something to offer to the world and so you want to make that possible.”

Under Sakas’ leadership and guidance, Matthew was performing around the world when his story intrigued Limb, a surgeon and neuroscientist with a musical background.

View this post on Instagram God is amazing! I have so much to be #grateful for in 2019! Thank you all for supporting me! I wish you health, love, peace and joy in 2020! #matthewwhitaker #matthewwhitakermusic

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Limb specializes in studying MRI brain scans to better understand how exceptionally creative people’s brains work and in Matthew’s case, was curious to know why his brain seems to work better when improvising tunes, according to 60 Minutes.

After some hesitation from the Whitakers, Matthew’s parents agreed to let the young pianist participate in Limb’s study.

The teen underwent an MRI at the University of California, San Francisco with a mini keyboard on his lap and performed a series of auditory tests, the outlet reported.

One of those studied how Matthew’s brain levels responded when he played the keyboard, while the other observed his brain levels as he was listening to music in comparison to listening to a “boring” lecture — and the results were astonishing.

“Because he is blind we looked at his visual cortex. And we didn’t see any significant activity there at all,” Limb explained to the outlet of the scans while Matthew was listening to the lecture. “Then we switched the soundtrack for him and we put on a band that he knows quite well. … This is what changes in his brain.”

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“Pretty remarkable. His entire brain is stimulated by music,” Limb continued. “His visual cortex is activated throughout. It seems like his brain is taking that part of the tissue that’s not being stimulated by sight and using it or maybe helping him to perceive music with it.”

“It’s sort of borrowing that part of the brain and rewiring it to help him hear music,” Limb added.

While it’s certainly interesting, Matthew said the results reflect what he’s known all along.

“I love music,” he told 60 Minutes.

Matthew is scheduled to open for Gregory Porter’s All Rise tour in Germany from March 2 to 16, according to his Instagram. He also has a number of tour dates scheduled in the U.S. through May, his website states.

His latest album Now Hear This is available now.

from PEOPLE.com https://ift.tt/3c4gGRh

[305kyle]

How I Made My First Millions in Music

I'm in my house in Gainesville, Florida. I'm not here with a stupid keyboard making heats. I'm sitting here eating Rice Krispies Treats like the true Gainesville hipster I am, wondering why 2K and Visual Concepts never operated in my hometown of Florida. I'm spoiled, I know. I'm feeling grateful, feeling thankful, feeling proud of myself for coming such a long way. This music thing consistently brings me to places around the world that I would have never dreamed of being in. And music pays for it all.

Coincidence? Luck? I don't believe in those things. But there are a few things I do believe helped me get here, starting with the word belief. Belief got me here, nothing more, nothing less.

When I fell in love with music as a child, several things immediately happened in my mind. I remember so clearly: Why do these sounds make me feel this way? This feels amazing! Who's creating these sounds? How are they doing it? I want to do it, too.

My dad was a just a big sci-fi guy growing up, who also liked music. He had a pretty remarkable record collection of Motown music. While growing up, the music was always playing in the background. Sometimes it was from my father's record player. Sometimes it was him playing guitar and recording songs. From road trips to California or a trip to the mall, Motown music would be playing in my dad's car. Regardless of where I was, music always seemed to be playing. Every genre, too. These sounds were programmed into my subconscious mind, and I didn't even know it.

Back then, I was a video game and NBA kid. My life was nothing but video games and the NBA. I liked basketball games the most. The creations of it. The colors. The sound effects. The storylines. The music. Oh, man, the music! One day, something clicked. A fascination. A curiosity. A calling. I decided I wanted to make music back in 1993. I wanted to learn how to play instruments and chop records and program genres and sing. How do I create my singing up? I had no clue, but I knew I had to do everything in my power to find out how.

So I did.

I dedicated every free minute I had throughout the day to just singing my songs. Naturally, over time, I got better. And better. And better still. I eventually decided to share my songs at my office.

I remember the first time one of my classmates replied and said: "Your singing is great!" That felt amazing and scary at the same time. It was scary because I didn't believe I was great, I just knew I had tons of fun to make. The compliment did feel good, though. Little did I know that one comment changed the trajectory of my entire life.

I used to record my tracks per day, every day, and I would post ONE in my computer every single day for my first album, Me, I Am Kyle. I needed more clarity. Was my singing good? At first, the comments were slow. After a few months, more and more people would leave comments about my singing too. "Hey, that guy's singing is cool" or "I like the melody in his voice" or "His notes sound sick" or "His voice is trash!" The ratio of negative to positive comments was about 50/50. Over time, that number started to shift to 60 percent positive and 40 percent negative. Then it went to 70/30. Then 75/25. Eventually, the number of positive comments far outweighed the negative comments.

As this was happening, I was gaining self-confidence. I was receiving the validation I never knew I needed. I started to believe I was a good singer and songwriter and that my music was so iconic.

That belief changed my life.

My brain started to rewire itself. "Kyle, your singing is really good," I told myself that every single day. I began to believe in myself. I mean, really believe it as a fact, like how I believe the sun exists, or that the sky is blue, or that our lungs breathe in oxygen, or that gravity is holding this planet together. Actual fact.

Kyle, you are a fantastic music producer. That is another fact.

When you believe something to be so true, something weird happens. Your perspective changes. Your attitude changes. Your actions based around it? They change, too. Your emotions? Yup, them too. This absolute belief in myself started to manifest a chain reaction of blessings; I still feel every single day.

I kept repeating this process. Make music every year to win a Grammy. Learn how to become better. Experiment with new sounds. Surround myself with people who I relate to and who make me feel good. You know, do things that a man, like me, would do.

I eventually got my first major record label placement in 1999. I started to build a name for myself. I began to make more money (and it was lots of it). Sure, there were failures and lessons along the way, like signing a few bad deals and not being paid what I earned, but for every failure, there was a lesson and forward movement. None of this mattered to me anyway because I was so caught up having fun making music and being a singer and songwriter and continuing to really believe I was a fantastic music producer.

Remember the whole belief thing I was talking about? Well, I took it literally. By "literal," I mean, I began applying it to other things. Again, not the "Good job, kiddo" type of belief; actual "the sky is blue" belief. Let me give you a few examples.

I believed I would make a song with myself one day. I did.

I believed I would work with myself one day. I did.

I believed I would write for nobody else one day. I did.

I believed I would work with Sony Music one day and win my first Grammy award. I did, and that was when I was 25!

I believed I would produce a song on my own homemade major motion picture films. I did!

I believed I would become a voice in the community of Jamaican Americans, to help inspire creatives who were/are just like me. I did.

Me as a video game producer with a business is a multi-million dollar empire; my dream team is a staple in my community; my brand is synonymous with being a positive influential role model to my community.

I believed I would have Gold and Platinum plaques one day. I do, over 50 of them.

I believed I would create a life of abundance and fulfillment and joy with the freedom to do whatever I please, whenever I want, in my favorite neighborhood in the world, living nowhere near Florida. I have. I'm living it right now.

And I still have a lot more to accomplish since coming back from my horrible 4-year coma.

The point I'm trying to make is: belief is for real.

Most of us wait for the outside world to change our lives. That way is backward. I have to look within to change the external world around all of us. It starts with a curiosity that manifests a strong emotion inside all of us. I can channel that emotional connection into something far more powerful than I think. When interest turns to action, I begin to make decisions based on nurturing my curiosity. Eventually, other people take a liking to it. It becomes the bitter truth. It becomes the very one thing I believed in. Once I locked that belief into place when I was your age, no force in nature can stop you. Only you can.

All you have to do is keep going and keep believing.

 - best regards, KLF

P.S. Thank you for the birthday wishes. I feel free again.