“These days, when I either play live or record an album, I simply have an intention to stay open and relaxed, I listen to and feel my own energy. If it feels connected to my heart and feels good then I know I’m on the right track, but if I find myself struggling to think of what to do then I know I’m “off course” and need to re-assess. I have found that the technicality of the player or composer of the music is secondary to his or her intention.” – Kavi
A message from Kavi:
Like many people of my generation (born in the late ’50s) and culture (English), as a boy I fell in love with the psychedelic sounds of Pink Floyd. By 13, I had my own guitar and embarked on a relationship with music that was no different to any other intimate relationship: challenging, painful, ecstatic and ultimately transformative.
After years of trying to fit into the London music scene, playing with different bands and searching for the elusive record deal, I yearned for something new, something that would stir my soul. As I looked around at the endless changing scenes – from psychedelia to punk to indie – I realised that a lot of pop music is about pain and suffering, about the heartbreak of love and about the heartache of life. I had over-identified with the “tortured hero” and felt that I too had to suffer emotionally to create good music. My icons were Jim Morrison of the Doors, Kurt Cobain of Nirvana, and Jimi Hendrix, to name but a few.
Around this time I experienced something that fundamentally changed my relationship with music forever: I was invited to play guitar, along with two drummers, for a “moving meditation” workshop. The music was totally improvised with absolutely no agenda other than to provide a landscape within which the group participants could “let go.” The magic happened when we musicians allowed the music to flow like a river. The more we “got ourselves out of the way,” the more profound, deep and authentic was the group experience: we became channels for something bigger than us to come through.
It was a pure energy experience, an ecstatic transcendence of linear reality. What I realised was that music was a doorway to the divine. And ultimately, the experience of the divine is Love. We didn’t record a note! For 5 years I played with a fantastic percussion player, a violinist and many other drummers, flute players etc, over and over again, and never recorded anything. The more we just stayed present the more energy flowed. Sometimes the music would be wild and out of control, and sometimes as still as silence. Finally an album appeared, called ‘Ecstasy’ by Amoda and the Tranceformers, it became a cult favourite amongst the ‘Trance Dance’ scene.
Since then I have played what I call “the music of WHAT IS,” over and over again. And each time my heart opens wider, each time the music bathes everything and everyone in more love. These days, when I either play live or record an album, I simply have an intention to stay open and relaxed, I listen to and feel my own energy. If it feels connected to my heart and feels good then I know I’m on the right track, but if I find myself struggling to think of what to do then I know I’m “off course” and need to re-assess. I have found that the technicality of the player or composer of the music is secondary to his or her intention. When music is just an expression of anger, disillusionment or pain then it usually creates more pain and suffering. But if music involves the wisdom of an open heart, then there is a vertical dimension of transformation and growth of the spirit. Now it is less catharsis and more meditation. More silence and peace, more beauty and more Love. -Kavi