Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts

April 7, 2011

Bobby McFerrin is my Homeboy




No, really.
What a man.




You might know this man as I did...



in fact, the first time I heard his name, I heard the awful rumor he had ironically killed himself. I briefly shared this tale! And I am oh-so-happy it is false.
AS THIS GUY


And yet, I did not know his tale.
At all, in fact...(Except that he was alive)
until I found this lil' nugget o' delight



 
And my roomie, and pure delight, Ben Caplan saw that I had posted this on yee ol' Facebook.
And asked if I had ever seen this goosebump-giving video of the man facilitating song





Then I realized something...

I love him so.







He addresses much of my recent obsessions:

Chaordic Design
 
And


And



Collaborative Leadership



And


The bringing the private voice to the public sphere




And


("Walking the fine line between control & surrender")

all of my conundrums of mind about music, Leadership & my own whackyness.




I am not certain I have seen someone who so encapsulated my own ideal style.
 
and 
Look at 'em!


Keep looking









HE ROCKED SESAME STREET


TWICE








You may infact be one of the only living models
I can aspire to.

That is a beautiful thing to find.
As a musician. As an educator.
As a facilitator.
As a collaborator.
As someone shoeless.
As a joyful being.



Thanks for being you, Bobby.
And giving others the permission to be themselves.

February 3, 2011

A Promise for Spring.



Don't let it out they might say
Your work should never look like your play

but I feel I must convey:
I ain't worked a day
I've never worked a day

And I'll pray I'll earn my keep
and that this Autumn is a promise for spring.

I'm sorry they might say
Your passions won't pay
nor will your do goodings
so just make it with what we have made
to keep the darkness at bay
just tuck your gift away

But I want to play
and put my best parts in the game

So you'll pray I'll earn my keep
but tomorrow it is
oh yes, tomorrow is
not yesterday
Tomorrow is not yesterday.


So I'll let it out and I will say:
My passion will pay. Just know your do goodings
and make it with what you are made
To lead nightmares astray
Don't let your dreams slip at way

And you'll pray I'll earn my keep
But autumn is but a promise for spring

February 2, 2011

Time has Told me

 I quote this song perpetually in the direction of my heart as of late.
  So, I thought I should share what I think is a love song for friends, which I may well often sing in your direction. I often quote it to a man who is that catalyst of my mind.
Soul with no footprint
Who lets me leave the ways of making me be
what I really don`t want to be
and leave the ways which might make me love
what I really don`t want to love.
I am now going to sleep. My question mark is broken.
------------------------------------------------------






Time has told me
You're a rare rare find
A troubled cure
For a troubled mind.

And time has told me
Not to ask for more
Someday our ocean
Will find its shore.

So I`ll leave the ways that are making me be
What I really don't want to be
Leave the ways that are making me love
What I really don't want to love.

Time has told me
You came with the dawn
A soul with no footprint
A rose with no thorn.

Your tears they tell me
There's really no way
Of ending your troubles
With things you can say.

And time will tell you
To stay by my side
To keep on trying
'til there's no more to hide.

So leave the ways that are making you be
What you really don't want to be
Leave the ways that are making you love
What you really don't want to love.

Time has told me
You're a rare rare find
A troubled cure
For a troubled mind.

And time has told me
Not to ask for more
For some day our ocean
Will find its shore.
-----------------------------------

December 15, 2010

Potters

Cheer up mi'love
Cheer up love
Don't put on your jacket
I don't mind where you're going
But I would love to be part of where your from

If we are both the potters and the clay
we are the potters and the clay
and I love the muck with which your made

So don't let your fears
lead you to stray
sometimes it takes more courage,
To see what you have made
Don't just heed what I may say
But don't don't
forget to seize your day

And Cheer up love
Live it up Love
Don't fashion your own regrets
You may find the seeds your sewing
might need some tending yet

If we are both the potters and the clay
we are the potters and the clay
and I love the muck with which your made

If we are both the potters and the clay
we are the potters and the clay
Why don't we just take shape

I don't mind where you're going
but I would love to be part of where you're from.

December 2, 2010

Montreal


How does one describe my travels in Montreal?

We had the luck of having a ride from Enfield right to Montreal, with sweet and delightful Tim the Trucker, and had another offer with a trucker named Manjit who had a tiger claw pendant, much like Brent and my Polar Bear claws. Now there are two lovely truckers I can call in case Halifax-Montreal travels arise.
Really!



We listened to Neil Young almost the whole way, I was introduced to sweet Johnny Horton, who is certainly the best Trucking soundtrack of all time. We also rocked out to Steppenwolf and The Who, got smoked out with Players, drank novelty-cup amounts of coffee and slept with the engine running... I have never smelled so bad in my life but I was incredibly happy and blessed to run amok with such beautiful creatures.



I also got to play in the back of a truck. Yes!


 Tim Time!

 Brent and I were dropped in East Montreal, where we were basically from Industrial Avenue bee lined it to The Metro, then to Atwater Market, then we went our separate ways: I rocked Sam & Sophie's house, Matt Brown and Erica Johnson, Dayna Currie, Johnny Eaton, Athena Holmes, my beautiful cousin Christine Wight... so many more.
Brent and I even fought a lil', which I never do
So it was immensely interesting.
Oh, Montreal!
So many new loves!
So many old!


Then I played my first full-fledged house show! So much love, and so many people I wanted to hug kept coming into the room which my cousin and her newfie roomies had so lovingly lent.

Then I played a show at La Passage on Sunday... with these awesome ladies and gent!

Athena Holmes



 
 Ate poutine, care of Olivier.
And team awesome Francophone.
Got boots.
Got Breakfast.
Got friends
Got thumbs
Got Quebecois finest Boreal Blanche.
Got Sleep.
Got a ride from Matt Brown
hitched 'er back on a sort of spiritual journey o' serendipity and metaphysical conversations
which remedies all fights
and cleared my mind
and.
am happily home
renewed
revived.
and
knowing better what I want in life
Who knew?
I shall visit you again, sweet Montreal.


September 18, 2010

a lil' inspiration


But it is good to remember such small things and of what consequence/catalyst they were to your life and art.
I didn't even know who he was, and Philipe had an extra ticket. I was at this show, sitting in the centre of the Balcony of St. Matthews church with Philipe, Denma and Crane and these songs made me weep. I remembered what music was. You can kind of see some of the atmosphere on Devin's video.

September 10, 2010

Where do you go for darkness when you've lit your shadows?






I have a song about being happy, and it is one of the saddest songs I have ever written.

My heart hurts right now.

I usually explain this song as me describing to my family that its okay to be happy, that it is natural and not avoiding reality: but today I remember the real meaning of that song.

My dear and delightful friend, Bruce McCormack, a poppa of Creighton Street, passed away today. I saw Bruce basically every day for 3 years. "You'll always have my heart" he would always say. He was proud to be a life long drinker, would do anything for 'his girls" (the residents of the apartment building he managed), and we loved each others company. He loved one lady his whole life, and she always told him "I am going to have to go one day Brucey" and one day she left. He was so happy, though. He didn't mind in the least being himself, smoking copious amounts, speaking his mind, singing his own dirty or silly words to Q104 songs while watching golf or CSI on mute and reveling his own bad habits and the miracle that he was somehow still alive and living in excess.

A friend and I found a beautiful bird dead in front of his home where the cops had broken in after his tenants saw him through the window on his kitchen floor.

I also have a friend who is mentally ill and doesn't really know it or know how to take care of themselves and it is exhausting and I want to do the right thing but I cannot always take care of them.

Plus, my heart is confused. I adore two men and no one all at once. I am learning that love never goes away and has its own version of memory. And I do not know what I want, or who I am now in the context of love.

And all of these things hurt right now.
I have more material for writing music than I would currently care to have.

But I know they need to happen. I know Bruce hurt for a long time and I will think of him fondly whenever I drink Keith's or listen to Q104 or pass his stoop and I am better for knowing him.

I know I need to get over keeping people I care about at arms length and being terrified to hurt people, and just remembered that I can be hurt too... and am figuring out many-a-thing about being an adult who is vulnerable to love.

I know I needed to be the person there for my friend, and it was supposed to be me who they came to and I have to learn self-limits and to practice better self care.

I can easily draw out the meanings and the common themes of discomfort and growth and getting to know myself better.

... but sometimes knowing that there is meaning to everything, that all things are meant and having an internal dialogue about the reasons why bad things are good, and having a high pain tolerance hurts me. Because I just want to feel sad.

I guess I am sad.
And yet realizing that makes me a lil' happy and steals from my stewing.

Where do you go for darkness when you've lit your shadows?

I will miss you Bruce.

September 8, 2010

Music is My Madness

Music as an instrument of change
I recently attended Tatmagouche Free school, and one of the questions they asked was "What are your gifts in exile?" And, surprising as it may seem to many since I am addicted to play music, I quickly answered that music is my gift in exile. I hate being called or self-identifying as a musician.


Then: What does music mean to me?


Many a person covets the position of musicians, and my dad is certainly one of those. Though I admire musicians sometimes, I do not envy them. And I don't like talking about music. I like playing it, but I hate using exclusive language and talking about it in an elite fashion. And what is there to covet or be obsessed about with music?


What a treat it is to share such a thing, perform an art. Create an intimate moment between you and countless people...but what is the cost? What does music make a musician? What does the industry do to your art?


Certainly, it can make you influential, and give you the chance to express yourself and create a shared cathartic experience, some money and see behind many closed doors... but a day of a musician is not much covetted in my eyes. What is it to play songs over and over, put yourself in an untouchable place, and sell your art almost always in addition to your face?

My Battle between Business, Music, The Greater Good and my own brainhood.

I suppose it isn't really about the music (though it can feel like prostituting your art) its about the business of personality. And I already have a flawed personality which too rarely gets called on its faults due to my relatively pleasant disposition. Ask my sisters!

"Music is spiritual. The music business is not. " -- Van Morrison

I have visions and neurosis about musicians being douchebags, and so music-centric and self important they don't attend to the most meaningful matters of the world and squander their gift of influence and visibility. I think this idea was brought to a head when I went to the ECMA's in Sydney last year.
But there I realized: Good people still find good people, even in a strange feild of frauds, fiends and friends.

"Music should never be harmless." -- Robbie Robertson

And!
It made me realize that: I am a musician.
Whew. I said it. Why do I hate that title so much? Even when people say "guitarist" or "cellist" or 'singer songwriter" it gets me perturbed. And feeling a wee bit fraudulent.

"The music business was not safe, but it was FUN. It was like falling in love with a woman you know is bad for you, but you love every minute with her, anyway." -- Lionel Richie

I was so worried that I would exacerbate my worst qualities through the sphere of performing art: untruths, self-centredness, overly reverent public, living in a dreamworld, any variety of substance abuse, late nights, flightyness.... but these are things I need to work on anyway.


I think I am in a place where I don't have to worry about making myself worse, and I am quite excited to make myself much better. And conquer my self-made barriers.


And! I think, in my own mind, I have accumulated enough social merit and use of myself outside of music, I cannot help but use music and performance and spectacle to assist in helping all things that I think need to happen to make a better world
.
and its okay if I don't have time to teach people how to be good people. I can be a good person, and do the best I can. And it is okay I am not the best and never care to be... I cannot help but be addicted to expressing myself through music, and playing music and hearing it and using it to speak whatever truths need be said, even if I do dress them up to be a lil' differently digested than they might otherwise be. That is art!

The responsibility of being a public figure. It makes me uncomfortable, and I am not certain it is a struggle of my own ego.  When talking about music I often quote John Gardner:


"Pity the leader caught
between unloving critics and uncritical lovers."

I often catch myself saying "Leadership: sunk!" Because: What place is that for self growth? I need people to call me out on my shit. I outsource for personal growth, because I know I do not catch myself doing those things that make me an imperfect being. It is pathological. AND I already have a problem with people not calling me out enough without putting myself in a place that is more public and less personally accessible.


I have troubles still with the words "leadership" and "leader" and "artist" in a similar fashion. I have gotten the farthest in not thwarting Musician out of all of these titles.

But, if a facet of being me is being a "musician," then so be it.
And in the words of my friend Kev Corbett, "I was made for a position of service, whether monastic, military or politician... but from the juxiposition of music I can serve all of those feilds best." My dad had said this to me before, in one way or another, but I could not hear him at that time. And much of my musical neurosis clearly comes from his own obsessions with music.
I wanted to live my own dream for my own reasons.


I just have to remember that music is not the most important thing on the planet. It is a method of and instrument of change, and one of expression.


I shall conquer and be made better.
I am going on tour next summer. That is that.
I will try to avoid embodying the following by following those music notes across the country:

And thus I clothe my naked villainy, With old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ; And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.