Mike Power

2BNRtist is to know divine dissatisfaction. It is a deep inescapable feeling that all the beauty and wonder in the world is not enough. That there needs to be something more. Something new. And something that you are the only one able to create.

2BNRtist is to believe that something you create is art. For some, this is a steep hurdle. I have seen artists whose work doesn’t move me who have great confidence in their work, and others whose art touches something profound in me who have no faith in their talent. I find the best way to deal with this is to decide you can’t be objective about your own work, except to compare it to your previous work. If you think it is getting better, you are heading in the right direction.

2BNRtist is to wake up every morning (or sometimes in the middle of the night) to a job that demands everything: constant concentration, innovation, bottomless wells of energy, and eternal dissatisfaction. In return it gives only one thing: the work itself. The job demands sacrifice. You must protect the work and expose yourself. It will interfere in romantic relationships, friendships, and families. For the lucky (or unlucky) few, there will be money and fame that will be unrelated to the quality of the work. On one extreme is Vincent van Gogh, on the other is Kid Rock. When you are old and tired you might find that there is no retirement from the job. You might want to quit only to find out the job does not want to quit you.

2BNRtist is to live outside of time and place. Something that you scribble on the back of a napkin in a bar on 19^th Street could end up on stage at Madison Square Garden or a Broadway theater, or it could hang on a wall at The Whitney Museum 20 years after you’re dead.

2BNRtist is to be misunderstood. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “to be great is to be misunderstood,” but when you are an artist you don’t have to be great to be misunderstood. Every piece of art has as many interpretations as it has observers. Some will stick closer to the artist’s visions than others but none – not even the artist’s – represent complete understanding. It is not just a potential audience member who misunderstands. Sometimes it is the artist herself. Luckily for the artist, what we create transcends understanding. Some of the greatest art is born from misunderstanding. Art cannot be understood because it is the nature of art to reach for things beyond our grasp.

All the long empty creatures have come down from the hills

And made their beds in our homes

The apostles of dishonesty have built a crooked kingdom

On sand they insist we call bedrock

Doctorates of divinity

Stretching through infinity

Aren’t worth the straw they are scrawled across

Lovers of corruption

Stand confused by each eruption

Of molten lava blasting through the frost

All the tired losers

Having run out of excuses

Now are content to hide behind the flag of their injustice

Since my album Surrender To Love dropped last year, I have been in a songwriting frenzy. Ten new songs are coming soon with the first one – a love song called You Have To Know - hitting the streaming platforms on September 4.

Pre-order here

I have been working with some new people on these tracks and this one includes the invaluable assistance of Adam James. His sterling production and playing really make this song sparkle. Adam (aka BadKlaat) is a producer and musician from the UK who approached me in May with an offer of collaboration. I am so glad I accepted his offer.

I hope you like it too!

Since my album Surrender To Love dropped last year, I have been in a songwriting frenzy. Ten new songs are coming soon with the first one – a love song called You Have To Know - hitting the streaming platforms on September 4.

Pre-order here

I have been working with some new people on these tracks and this one includes the invaluable assistance of Adam James. His sterling production and playing really make this song sparkle. Adam (aka BadKlaat) is a producer and musician from the UK who approached me in May with an offer of collaboration. I am so glad I accepted his offer.

I hope you like it too!

Happy 250^th America. You don’t look a day over 249.

It has been a quarter of a millennium since a group of determined dreams affixed their signature to a declaration that has been a beacon of hope for every person on the planet in search of two, simple things: freedom and democracy. To say we have fallen short of our ideals is a massive understatement, but one that does nothing to diminish the glory and righteousness of those ideals.

May this nation of immigrants come to cherish our diverse cultures and laugh at the bigotry of those who think White America is Real America. And may the stain of MAGA’s moral depravity echo down the generations and inspire future Americans to keep flagrant criminals and traitors like Donald Trump from ever again holding positions of power in our government.

Today is officially “many years from now” for me. I must have first heard the Beatles’ When I’m Sixty Four when I was still in single digits and that age sounded so incredibly old. But, like everything Paul McCartney touches, it also sounded fun and sweet. And as I turn 64 today it is fun and sweet, because I am lucky enough to have someone who still needs me and still feeds me.

When I get older, losing my hair
Many years from now,
Will you still be sending me a valentine,
birthday greetings, bottle of wine?

If I'd been out till quarter to three,
Would you lock the door?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty four? Ooh

You'll be older too.
Ah, and if you say the word,
I could stay with you.

I could be handy mending a fuse
When your lights have gone.
You can knit a sweater by the fireside,
Sunday mornings, go for a ride.

Doing the garden, digging the weeds,
Who could ask for more?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty four?

Every summer we can rent a cottage
In the Isle of Wight if it's not too dear.
We shall scrimp and save.
Grandchildren on your knee;
Vera, Chuck and Dave.

Send me a postcard, drop me a line,
stating point of view.
Indicate precisely what you mean to say,
yours sincerely, wasting away.

Give me your answer, fill in a form,
Mine forevermore.
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty four?