darshan at folk concerts
I have always had a hard time explaining to anyone what kind of music I like. Partly that's because I grew up listening to a lot of folk music most people have never heard. But that isn't all of it... I run into other people who like obscure folk and as likely as not, they're focused on a completely different aspect of it than I am. And the collection of stuff other than folk that I like is equally hard to categorize. Everyone's relationship to their music is personal and idiosyncratic, of course. But I like to try to be articulate about these things, and there's an idea knocking around in my head about it.
In Hinduism, being in the presence of a sacred person or thing (a guru or an image of a deity, usually) and just looking at them can be a way of experiencing and worshipping deity through that guru or image. The word for this is darshan -- for example, I received darshan of Sri Mata Amritanandamayi when she visited NYC last summer.
I think the music I like, and especially the music I like to see live, is music performed by people in whose presence I feel that I am receiving darshan. What I think that means: the performer's own life is integrated enough and basically at-peace enough that they can be a clear channel for Life to pour through them when they perform. (By the way, can I tell you how pissed I am at ClearChannel Communications for making those words fraught with nasty associations?) If the performance feels ego-driven, I'm not interested. If they're trying to do what they think someone else will like, might as well not bother. I want to hear you play music that you're playing because it feels Right, music that your whole self resonates with, for which your self has stepped out of the way to let the music come through.
Last night I received darshan of Scott Ainslie again. He plays the blues. I don't even like the blues that much, but I will sit and listen to Scott Ainslie play the blues as often as you let me. He sings about love gone wrong in a hundred different ways, tells the stories behind the songs, talks about the history of the blues, about finding the history of where in Africa clawhammer banjo technique evolved from. All the while you can feel that he is loving all those messed up people (himself included) whose love has gone wrong, and honoring everything they do right, and lovingly laughing at it all. You sit there feeling like all the heartbreak in your own life is going to be OK because yeah, life is like that, but it's so good, too. His playing builds up the energy in the room, a prayer that "hard times come again no more," an offering in gratitude for everything that doesn't hurt, and you can silently (or singing along) join your mind to all that and just soak it all in. You leave feeling nourished and grateful.
That is the kind of music I like.
In Hinduism, being in the presence of a sacred person or thing (a guru or an image of a deity, usually) and just looking at them can be a way of experiencing and worshipping deity through that guru or image. The word for this is darshan -- for example, I received darshan of Sri Mata Amritanandamayi when she visited NYC last summer.
I think the music I like, and especially the music I like to see live, is music performed by people in whose presence I feel that I am receiving darshan. What I think that means: the performer's own life is integrated enough and basically at-peace enough that they can be a clear channel for Life to pour through them when they perform. (By the way, can I tell you how pissed I am at ClearChannel Communications for making those words fraught with nasty associations?) If the performance feels ego-driven, I'm not interested. If they're trying to do what they think someone else will like, might as well not bother. I want to hear you play music that you're playing because it feels Right, music that your whole self resonates with, for which your self has stepped out of the way to let the music come through.
Last night I received darshan of Scott Ainslie again. He plays the blues. I don't even like the blues that much, but I will sit and listen to Scott Ainslie play the blues as often as you let me. He sings about love gone wrong in a hundred different ways, tells the stories behind the songs, talks about the history of the blues, about finding the history of where in Africa clawhammer banjo technique evolved from. All the while you can feel that he is loving all those messed up people (himself included) whose love has gone wrong, and honoring everything they do right, and lovingly laughing at it all. You sit there feeling like all the heartbreak in your own life is going to be OK because yeah, life is like that, but it's so good, too. His playing builds up the energy in the room, a prayer that "hard times come again no more," an offering in gratitude for everything that doesn't hurt, and you can silently (or singing along) join your mind to all that and just soak it all in. You leave feeling nourished and grateful.
That is the kind of music I like.