Task Lyst by Scott Hylbert

Task Lyst by Scott Hylbert

Author:Scott Hylbert [hylbert, scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781684423187
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00


It was eleven twenty in the morning when Elliott rolled over and checked the time on his phone. His guitar, an old Gibson parlor model, leaned against the bed, reminding him of the song he had worked on into the tiny hours. He was eager to hear the playback but decided to ease into the day with a couple of breakfast tacos and cup of coffee from the Beanery around the corner. His expectations were high on how it would translate into daylight listening, but the usual apprehension remained. He was a harsh critic of his own work and wanted to give this latest brainstorm a fighting chance. Elliott’s new songs went one of two places upon completion. If he liked it, he made sure there was a strong guitar and vocal sketch recorded and saved into his release queue, which was housed in a secure hard drive called “Q Drive.” The best of these would be considered for full band recordings and limited quantity self-released demos. Elliott considered this his vault of masterpieces. At some point his genius would resonate for the world, regardless of how under-appreciated he might be in the present. He was his own Theo van Gogh, stockpiling and archiving the unsold work of an artist for some future, ideally not posthumous, unveiling. Elliott would reinforce his own merit by sequencing the collection into prospective release schedules. If he could achieve any modicum of financial success, if he could reach even a modest audience, a river of gold records would flow unimpeded.

The songs that didn’t pass muster were sent to his “Pyre of Crap” folder, which he planned to eventually destroy in an incendiary fit of catharsis or, at best, recycle into new ideas. He hadn’t decided which ones, hence its tenuous existence. Since none of his creative output had met significant commercial or critical validation, it was possible he wasn’t a good judge of his own potential. For this reason, he considered even the worst of his drivel to be worth keeping around, at the very least as a journal entry in his memoir or posthumous biography.

Elliott, refreshed and energized by his writing epiphany, pulled the door shut to his flat as the first heavy rain of the season marked its arrival on the pavement. It was a cold, steady rain that had been forecasted for days. He adjusted his scarf, lowered his chin, and zeroed in on the coffee shop. If the song was as good as it had felt last night, he’d share it with his band members and book some studio time. He had plenty of Bitcoin to foot the bill. Perhaps enough to fund a video. They could release it as a single or shop it to the industry sharks who always said the same thing, “I like it, it’s got a retro vibe. It’s the kind of stuff I listen to on the way home from work. I just don’t know how I’d market it.”

The coffee shop windows were more steamed up than normal.



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