Blåtoner
I just got back from a concert-thingy given by one of the ladies in my band. She has a musical group called Blåtoner (bluenotes), which is compised of 3 women (2 professional nurses and one professional gospel singer). The women in this group get together to talk about all the sorrows in their life, death, depression, suicide,etc. They then write songs about these troubles and sing them for each other and for audiences.
I went expecting to see a concert of 3 women singing together. What I got instead was 3 individual women telling really long and in-depth stories about the sorrows of their personal lives and then singing solo songs about them in 3 different styles (one folk, one gospel, and one super-cheezy). It was very informal, and sort of cool. I'm glad that I understand enough Norwegian now to understand the drift of their stories, but not so much that it hit me too hard emotionally.
However, the benches in the Rauland Church are the most uncomfortable I've ever experienced. By the end of the concert, I couldn't tell if I was miserable because I was moved by the tragic tales of their dead loved ones and their depression, or if I was just really wanting to get out of the pew.
I left with 2 ideas going through my head:
1. I need to talk to my parents more.
2. I'm definitely not OK with death right now.
Time for some St. John's Wort tea and a gigantic slice of chocolate-covered ice cream cake.
I went expecting to see a concert of 3 women singing together. What I got instead was 3 individual women telling really long and in-depth stories about the sorrows of their personal lives and then singing solo songs about them in 3 different styles (one folk, one gospel, and one super-cheezy). It was very informal, and sort of cool. I'm glad that I understand enough Norwegian now to understand the drift of their stories, but not so much that it hit me too hard emotionally.
However, the benches in the Rauland Church are the most uncomfortable I've ever experienced. By the end of the concert, I couldn't tell if I was miserable because I was moved by the tragic tales of their dead loved ones and their depression, or if I was just really wanting to get out of the pew.
I left with 2 ideas going through my head:
1. I need to talk to my parents more.
2. I'm definitely not OK with death right now.
Time for some St. John's Wort tea and a gigantic slice of chocolate-covered ice cream cake.