Folk music is music that people play
I had not seen Midyne in lo these many years - maybe since before I went off to college even. Not sure. A long time. So when she had a gig yesterday that was closer to (my) home than Santa Cruz, I went. It was somewhat round-robin style with her and a handful of other singer-songwriters, in a tiny coffeeshop crammed with friendly people. Towards the end of the night, she and some of the other folks played/sang on some of each other's songs - and as someone to whom that has happened rarely, I can verify that it's way fun when other people chime in and make your music even prettier.
Midyne asked if I was still writing, playing, singing. In middle and high school I did a lot of songwriting - and then it stopped. I got busy with other things. I was no longer surrounded by people who played and sang and wrote and arranged; music stopped being the thing that I had in common with the people around me. I stopped carrying around that little blue notebook to jot down random bits of possible songs, and they stopped coming. I started listening to more music done by strangers, music done with enough polish for several layers of bureaucracy to make a living off of it. And that was never the kind of music I wrote, but I got more used to hearing it. And then there were all these other people's words available, so less need or space to make up my own. It feels like... I ran out of things to say, and part of that is I've gotten more hesitant to have what I'm saying sound stupid, trite, everyday.
One of Midyne's songs had a chorus which basically consisted of "Oh shit, I'm late. Again." That's what the song was about. That she's always running late for things. It was silly, and fun, and had the audience singing along by about halfway through. One of the guys who played last night - the (only) one who didn't join in on the playing-each-other's-music was intense and amazing, musically. And the rest of them? Well, one of them was who I was specifically there to hear. Far as I can tell, they were having a great time playing music for us and with each other. And the songs were not industry-polished. They were... real. Folk music. Music written and played by the people who are right here. Music that I probably wouldn't bother to listen to if it weren't either a)by someone I know or b)live, in a place I happen to be. (I'm realizing that this reads like their music was somehow anything other than awesome. Let me clarify: it was awesome.) I am grateful to have grown up surrounded by that kind of music, that's worth making for the joy of it. Although I have also learned to appreciate music that is beautiful or powerful or just plain fun and that isn't played by someone I know :)
It is comforting to hear that just because I've stopped writing doesn't mean I'm done writing. Midyne says she was like that too - wrote a lot in high school, and then didn't for a long time. And then picked it up again (I think she said in her 40s?). And I've always liked her songs. She says not to beat myself up too much about not writing. I think... I think I'm gonna try believing her.
Midyne asked if I was still writing, playing, singing. In middle and high school I did a lot of songwriting - and then it stopped. I got busy with other things. I was no longer surrounded by people who played and sang and wrote and arranged; music stopped being the thing that I had in common with the people around me. I stopped carrying around that little blue notebook to jot down random bits of possible songs, and they stopped coming. I started listening to more music done by strangers, music done with enough polish for several layers of bureaucracy to make a living off of it. And that was never the kind of music I wrote, but I got more used to hearing it. And then there were all these other people's words available, so less need or space to make up my own. It feels like... I ran out of things to say, and part of that is I've gotten more hesitant to have what I'm saying sound stupid, trite, everyday.
One of Midyne's songs had a chorus which basically consisted of "Oh shit, I'm late. Again." That's what the song was about. That she's always running late for things. It was silly, and fun, and had the audience singing along by about halfway through. One of the guys who played last night - the (only) one who didn't join in on the playing-each-other's-music was intense and amazing, musically. And the rest of them? Well, one of them was who I was specifically there to hear. Far as I can tell, they were having a great time playing music for us and with each other. And the songs were not industry-polished. They were... real. Folk music. Music written and played by the people who are right here. Music that I probably wouldn't bother to listen to if it weren't either a)by someone I know or b)live, in a place I happen to be. (I'm realizing that this reads like their music was somehow anything other than awesome. Let me clarify: it was awesome.) I am grateful to have grown up surrounded by that kind of music, that's worth making for the joy of it. Although I have also learned to appreciate music that is beautiful or powerful or just plain fun and that isn't played by someone I know :)
It is comforting to hear that just because I've stopped writing doesn't mean I'm done writing. Midyne says she was like that too - wrote a lot in high school, and then didn't for a long time. And then picked it up again (I think she said in her 40s?). And I've always liked her songs. She says not to beat myself up too much about not writing. I think... I think I'm gonna try believing her.