Please Move. You're Standing On My Heart.

I had the awesome experience of being connected to this little love song project last year. It was 100% amazing to hear our song in concert last Wednesday, and it proved to be one of those nights when the talent of the friends who surround me leaves me speechless (okay, nearly speechless). Maybe that's why I found the story of this "critic death threat via pop song" so unshakable. How completely unreal yet totally logical would it be if the music that you loved bit you back with such a direct vengeance?

I don't mean to get all Stephin Merritt on you, but in my own off-line world this week, if it's not one thing out of left field it's something else--scary illnesses of loved ones, friends in really tough places, thieves trying to steal things right out of our back yard while I yell from the kitchen window(!!). Still, no matter what happens in the real world, creative projects--whether we're writing for newspapers or record albums--have a tendency to attach themselves with the sort of emotional seriousness we otherwise reserve for parents, pets, and best friends. But what do you do when your relationship with your art sours, when music tells you off? How do you get all Michael Azerrad and tell art that it's time for you to have a serious little talk without losing faith?

(Did I mention the mouse in the kitchen? Don't forget--like you could--to vote!)