Music Is Medicine: Vesper — Exploring the Creative State at 3AM

1 day ago
4 min read

A personal journey into sitar, stillness, and the space where music begins

Music Is Medicine is a podcast and reflection series by Melbourne musician Mat Creedon exploring the healing power of music, sound meditation, and deep listening.

It's funny how Music takes you in different directions.

For quite a while now, I’ve been circling the idea of making a sitar album. Not because I come from that tradition… but because something about the sound always stayed with me.

I remember hearing it through The Beatles years ago and thinking — what is that?

It felt mysterious. Almost like it was coming from somewhere else.

At some point, the opportunity came along, and I bought one.

That was the beginning.

Originally, my focus was simple. I wanted to be a guitarist in a band. But there are so many guitarists out there… and eventually, I realised that if I wanted to stand out, I needed to write great songs.

So that became the focus.

Songwriting.

Which then led to another reality — I needed to make a living. And the thing that kept showing up for me… was teaching music.

So I followed that path.

And the interesting thing is, none of the other parts disappeared. I kept playing, writing, creating… the direction just shifted.

Along the way, word got around that I played sitar. And one of my student’s mothers connected me with a friend who ran a Bollywood dance troupe.

So suddenly, I found myself playing festivals… in the chill-out area… alongside a tabla player named Kuljit.

Now, being a guitarist doesn’t exactly make me an Indian classical sitarist.

I could play some traditional melodies… and improvise in my own Western way.

And let’s just say — there were definitely moments where Kuljit may have rolled his eyes.

He’s incredibly humble and forgiving, but I’m sure I made things… interesting… at times.

Because the sitar is a deeply revered instrument in Indian culture. And me approaching it like a blues guitar… could probably be seen as a little sacrilegious.

But that’s part of the reality.

I didn’t grow up with that tradition. It’s not in my blood.

The closest connection I have, really… is The Beatles.

So I found myself in this strange in-between space.

Something I could do… but not something I felt completely authentic doing in a traditional sense.

And that’s where things began to shift.

Because alongside all of this, I’ve spent a lot of time in meditation and spiritual practice.

Over the years, I’ve developed a strong connection to what you might call the muse.

My day actually starts at 3am.

I’ll spend about an hour writing music, and then I move into meditation, Tibetan practices, qigong, yoga… even a bit of resistance training to top it off.

It takes about four hours before I even get to breakfast.

It probably sounds a little bit insane… but honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Because after doing this consistently, something starts to happen.

You begin to feel very in touch with something deeper.

You might call it presence.

Or flow.

Or just a quiet clarity.

And if I’m being completely honest…

It can feel a little bit like being high.

We tend to think of those states as coming from outside… but the body already has everything it needs.

It can heal itself.

It can regulate itself.

And it can generate some pretty profound internal states.

So what I’ve really been doing, for a long time now, is learning how to work with my own nervous system.

And the interesting thing is… anyone can do it.

Practice just speeds things up.

So one morning at 3am, I decided to run an experiment.

I’d heard for years that this time of day is one of the easiest ways to access creativity — because the mind is quiet and the world hasn’t quite woken up yet.

And I thought… why not try it with the sitar?

At the same time, I’d already made the decision that if I was going to make this album, it needed to feel honest.

Not trying to replicate traditional Indian music…

but allowing it to sound like me.

And somewhere along the way, I realised something.

The more I tried to sound like something I wasn’t…

the further away I got from the music.

But the moment I let that go…

and just allowed it to sound like me…

something opened up.

Not just musically… but internally as well.

It felt more honest.