Hunter Hobbs:
In the first chapter his book Proust and Rilke, E.F.N. Jephcott compiles a body of quotes from notable artists in which they each describe their experiences with that evasive and ghost-like substance we call inspiration. (The rest of the book is unreadably dull, but this first chapter is gold.) Each of these artists describe the sensation in almost the exact same terms. They describe a simultaneous heightening of senses and yet a falling off of self— what we have come to call an out-of-body experience. They also, almost invariably describe, the sensation as coming on when they are out for a walk or while they are focused intently on breath, as one is during meditation. Jephcott argues that this is the case because both of these activities establish a subconscious rhythm. They are automatic functions, in that our body does them without noticing, but they establish a rhythmic framework, like a grid, in which the mind can organize sense impressions.
Around the same time I was reading this book, I was having difficulty sleeping and became accustomed to falling asleep to “Reflection” by Brian Eno, an hour-long, ambient soundscape of a song. Not only would I fall asleep to it almost every night, I would also study, read and write to it. And after so much passive listening, it just became part of my brain, like when you hear a repetitive sound so consistently that your brain stops registering it all together, and it becomes part of what you call silence. So “Reflection” became for my brain one of those natural rhythmic frameworks, and Eno became an architect of a landscape of ordered silence which I could enter whenever I wanted, without having the disciplined mind necessary for meditation and without ever having to get up and leave my desk.
Alexis Olson:
When it comes to inspiring creativity there is one song that rises above the rest, “Follow Me,” by Uncle Kracker. It has everything a writer could ever want: romance, betrail, a catchy hook telling you everything is alright.Uncle Kracker knows that the first draft of the poem or story you’re writing is going to be amazing; he’s not worried and you shouldn’t be either. I always keep this song in my back pocket for when I’m feeling stuck on a peice, especially if I’m working on something more serious or emotional. Sometimes most helpful thing is to get out of your own head. So next time you’re struggling, put on some Uncle Kracker and know that it’s all going to be okay.
Lindsay Lake:
When I sit down to write, I usually put on my pop music favorites. Whether it be in the current mainstream pop vein or jams from back in the early 2000s or a weird off-shoot, I lean on pop's classic dancey rhythms and the (sometimes) cheesy lines to help me enter my creative zone. I write poems, mostly, and listening to pop while writing helps me remember not to take myself too seriously, and to instead, make my poems and myself in general more accessible.
I'm never able to write while listening to a new song, artist, genre, or album for the first time. When discovering new music, I spend a lot of time focusing on their craft and their writing, instead of focusing on my own. By turning on a pop song that I've heard a zillion times or listening to a new song with the familiar pop song progression, I'm able to slide comfortably into the writing zone without the pressure that comes with understanding something new.
My top writing picks for 2019 so far have been King Princess's "Holy," "Hate That You Know Me" by Bleachers, "Robbers" by the 1975, "Say My Name" by Tove Styrke, "Honey" by Swim Deep, Avril Lavigne's album Let Go, Ashlee Simpson's Autobiography album, and Bowling For Soup's A Hangover You Don't Deserve.
Image via Flickr @dren88