I’m reposting this picture because there is so much about it
that I didn’t say when I posted it the first time. This picture was taken by
Danielle. She was Cayd’s and my first buskin contributor. She gave Cayden ten
bucks and told him to keep singing. Last
week she took the picture on her phone and emailed it to me.
This happened after we stopped to see Dan, at Sweet Dreams
bakery, who sold us our pre buskin pie, and after Cecilia, who works at Exeter
Fine Crafts, passed by and said, “Hi.” Cecilia walks by our spot in front of
the Ioka Theatre on her way home. She
said how much she enjoyed our showing up Thursday evenings and playing. It
happened before me and Cayd went down the street to D2 coffee house to get our
post buskin Mexican Mocha’s from the awesome barista there, whose name we do
not yet know, who said she would come to the May 20th Kilim show,
but didn’t because of her own show in Newburyport.
The reason why all this matters so much is that it is about
the relationships that are evolving out of this being-a-musician-again
thing. When Heather and Jemma went to
see Taylor Swift two years ago and came back telling us how amazing and
friendly and warm the show was, it occurred to me that it had that feeling
because everyone in that 15,000 person audience had a relationship with Taylor
and her music. I realized that if I was going to accomplish anything with this
iteration of me as a musician, I would have to do the same thing; I would have
to connect with people.
So. I set a goal: To
connect with at least one person at ever show I did. Then I learned something else. Up until the May show at Kilim, I
had been focused on playing and singing as well as I could. Not a bad thing to
focus on, but it distracted me from something even more important. Two days
before the Kilim show, Mary, a young actor, gave an amazing performance in the
New Hampshire Theatre Project youth rep season ender. She wasn’t the only actor
who shined, (props to Jemma who was also awesome,) but there was something that
Mary did that really struck me. She gave of herself. She made herself
vulnerable.
It hit me that if I really wanted to connect with people, I
had to do the same thing. I had to put myself out there. So that’s what I did. The Kilim show was the
first time. I don’t know if anyone noticed, but I did. And it was the first
time I really had fun.
I joke that this is the 3.0 version of me as a musician.
Version 1.0 started when I was born, and evolved through dreaming, songwriting,
and cover bands till I was in my early 20’s, then faded when I got a “real
job.” 2.0 started when I did the solo
singer/songwriter thing the first time in Boston. It faded in my 30’s during
grad school. 3.0 started about four
years ago when Heather and I decided we wanted our children to know us not only
as parents, but also as artists. What you get to witness if you come to a show
or buy a CD or listen to me online is me figuring out what that means. Truth is, I really don’t know. So far it’s been about learning the lessons
I have just described.
Along the way, someone said it bugged them when I close my
eyes while I’m playing. I had been
trying really hard to keep them open. I stopped trying at Kilim. When I was watching Mary, I realized that
when I close my eyes I have freed myself from the fear of screwing up, and
moved into the dreamtime where this music originates. It isn’t a shutting out
thing, but a trusting thing. I am trusting that when my eyes are closed you
will come with me to a place that is as personal as any place I have to offer. More than a place, it is all of who I
am. It is where I am deeply vulnerable
and most alive. It is where I mingle
with the Creation and let the magic that is this music flow through me, and out
to the world. To do that, I have to
close my eyes. But it’s also a trusting that when I open my eyes you will still
be there, listening. Because without
that, there can be no music.
This has been quite a journey so far, and I appreciate
everyone who has been willing to come along for the adventure. Let’s see where
it goes next.
