You left this world on 5 December 2008. In the wake of your sudden departure, lies a pathway scattered with broken hearts and puddles of water formed by the tears of those who have survived you. How, though, does one survive the aftermath of a sudden loss? The reality is too unreal for a mind to comprehend. You were too young, too vibrant, too full of life, too PRESENT to suddenly no longer be.
We all say it shouldn't have been you but I know you know differently. You do understand that it's harder for us, don't you? We have no comprehension of where you are. We have ideas. But we've been told so many different things, how does one really know what to believe? How do you balance logic and reason when there is a total lack of any logic and reason; when your world is tipped on its axis and balance is impossible? How do you begin to tell the broken hearts that it's going to be ok; that you haven't really left at all?
I know you haven't left. I can feel you. Perhaps that's normal. Perhaps it's wishful thinking. You seem peaceful and relaxed. Or is that just my hopeful mind playing tricks on me? How can I sit and talk about this calmly when, every few minutes, the thought of it takes my breath away. How can someone be, and then not be, within the space of a few seconds? How do you get your mind around such a solid fact, when that fact seems to be surrounded by an invisible force field and comprehension just bounces right off of it.
I know you haven't left. I can hear your voice in my head, or is that just my own voice playing tricks on me? I talk out loud to myself so that, when I talk to you, I can convince myself it's normal. Although I'm almost positive you answer me back, what if I just wish you did?
I've experienced loss before, but I was able to start dealing with the loss long before it actually occurred. You didn't give us any time. Was there a reason for that? I know, I know, you have your reasons. I don't want to question the natural order of things. You seem to know what you're doing. This is a very hard lesson for so many people. Do you think they're all strong enough to take the lesson and run with it? Even the strongest person has a limit to what they can withstand. If I'm struggling, there are people who are finding this a thousand times harder.
Does it hurt you to see that? You always had so much love for so many people. You couldn't bear to see anyone sad or hurting. You had a natural gift for empathy. Now that you've left that life and are looking at the bigger picture, it must seem like we're making a mountain out of a molehill. I do think that, the person who you were, was your soul reflected in human form and the caring and compassion you had for people, is a caring and compassion you have for all souls, from whatever dimension. I know you hurt for us, even as I know you are at peace.
I think you chose to come back in that particular form, for very specific reasons. There were souls here, who needed you. We needed to learn from you. You achieved what you set out to do. I'm sure you know that. You taught so many people that love is simple and that it can cure anything. You showed us that life doesn't have to be so complicated, that's it's not worth sweating the small stuff. You had a quiet wisdom that was evident in the times when people needed you, evident in so many ways.
You also had your lessons to learn. In human form, we all succumb to the phrase, "We're only human. We all make mistakes." Your lessons, in turn, were lessons for us. I know you learnt from those around you and you grew from it. You were an old soul to begin with. It didn't take you long to reach the level you aimed for. It wasn't long before we were all learning from you.
You also knew that you had to leave, and that your leaving would be one of the hardest lessons of all, for those you left behind. But before you left you had one more thing to do. You took a soul that was broken and hurting, and helped it to heal, simply by showing it that love could be easy, unconditional and without complication. You truly are a beautiful soul.
Even though I know you're still around, you are missed. Even with your voice in my head, the sadness sometimes overwhelms me and I hope you understand that. We are just human. We are not infallible. I will try, for your sake, to be strong and to pay it forward wherever I can. I'll take the lessons you are teaching me and learn from them. I will never be the same again and I can thank you for that and you know my reasons. You will be missed. The hole you've left can't be filled. There was only one you. But we will all, somehow, adjust to the empty space there.
I know you are peaceful and I'm thankful for that. I know you are happy and, for that, too, I am thankful. I'm also thankful for the brief time we had with you on earth and for all that you gave us. There is so much, that was good, to remember and I'll always treasure those memories. Though we miss you, I know we will see you again when the time is right.
In the meantime, I will try and adjust to the hole in my life and try and fill it with the memories to keep you close.
So, until we meet again, fly, little angel.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
Life Changing Decembers and Monstrous Opportunities
It's the 27th December 2009 and that means it's 25 days since my life took a dramatic, not so pleasant turn. I was thinking about it earlier as I prepared for bed and it occurred to me that December has actually ALWAYS been a month of change for me. It's not like I go out and make a conscious decision to change my life each December! Oh no! Quite the contrary in fact... At the time that these dramatic changes occur, I am generally quite happily content, almost smug, in the knowledge that my life is happily perfect.
I should know better...
I always preach to my friends, and even acquaintances, about how the universe has a way of throwing a curve ball right at you, just at the moment that you are in that happy, content, smug little safe zone. It's quite interesting, then, how I never ever expect it, myself! I am ALWAYS surprised... usually horribly.
If I REALLY take the time to think about it, AFTER said curve ball has come flying out of left field, I realise that the signs were actually there all along. I simply refused to acknowledge them. You know how a little child, when scared of monsters at night, will cover their eyes with the blanket? The theory, and it makes perfect sense to a child, is that, if I can't see them, they can't see me and therefore can't hurt me. As one gets older, one begins to realise that this is far from true and yet, it's still so tempting to give in to that old tactic time and time again. All that really changes is the breed of monster, and the blanket!
I think that's why I actually SHOULD expect the curve ball (read: Monster), but I prefer, in a child-like way, to pretend it's not actually there. Fortunately for most children, the monster really IS just a figment of their imagination, however, for me, the monsters are quite real and so scary that I've chosen to blanket them out.
I won't go into all of them, however, let me give you an idea of the pattern my Decembers have followed in recent years...
2 Decembers ago, saw the end of a relationship that signalled the end, sadly, of a friendship as well. I'm not sure why that happened but I think that is the danger of never really talking things out and I was too upset with myself, and the other party, to sort it out then and there. Time marches on, lives go on, and we move on... or do we? The fact that it was a landmark in my life suggest otherwise to me. It was a disconcerting, unwanted curveball and it definitely changed me.
1 December ago I was on my way to a show when I received a call that irrevocably changed me. A close, very dear friend of mine had passed away suddenly and tragically. I was devastated and that December was spent trying to come to terms with it. Without a doubt, a tragic landmark that is indelibly etched on the wall of my mind, and my heart and no December will EVER be the same.
It's hard to believe a year has passed but here I am at another December and I find myself, once again, reeling in shock. This time, it's the end of a relationship I thought was The One. I suppose this one will get more attention as the others have been covered in-depth and this, I have yet to compartmentalise in my mind.
I have covered the obligatory falling apart phase. I allowed myself approximately 2 weeks during which time I did all the usual things one does in this situation. We've all been there and I'm sure you don't expect me to elaborate. If you do, you may be in for a bit of a wait...
And then, a lifeline! My family, my wonderful family, decided to rescue me from a lonely, empty Johannesburg, and transport me to... the United Kingdom?! Whoa, back up here I can hear you say. You left sunny South Africa to travel to a cold, dark, wet place for 2 weeks?
Yes... I most certainly did. In fact, I would have sold my soul to have done that but fortunately for me, I didn't have to. There was a time when I might not have jumped at the opportunity. I have always disliked England and London in particular. There was also a time when my family and I did not quite see eye to eye on certain things and, at that time, the end of a relationship might very well be cause for celebration on their part! I exaggerate slightly but I do know that, offering condolences in this kind of situation would seem foreign and perhaps, unnecessary, to them. That was at a time when empathy was hard to conjure up for both parties concerned.
Since that time, we have talked, and cried, and talked, and laughed, and talked, and hugged, and talked some more. It's amazing what you can fix by talking! In fact, everything is so well fixed that I felt comfortable crying on their shoulders, and they felt comfortable offering tissues and hugs.
I digress slightly but it was a necessary detour. To continue, there is no place in the world I would rather have been, than with my family. If that had meant travelling to Mars, I would have done it. There is no greater balm for the soul than being around people who know you, and all your faults, and feel free to tell them to you, while discussing the merits of Sensodyne toothpaste and what we're having for lunch! When it comes to family, you know, or you SHOULD know, that, no matter how dramatic and hurtful the disagreement, you will STILL be there for each other and love each other. It's an unspoken rule.
After 2 weeks with my quirky, slightly off-the-wall family, I feel quite close to normal again! I feel like a hazelnut, who's shell unexpectedly cracked open and peeled off, leaving the soft centre unprotected and bare, that has been dipped in rich, dark chocolate! (I only choose dark because it's my favourite kind!) It's much more user-friendly than a hard shell, and a much more gentle kind of protection for the hazelnut. In short, I feel quite deliciously safe again!
25 days after a chapter in my life suddenly ended, I am once again at a crossroads. Perhaps there's a reason why this always happens in December. January signals new beginnings, a fresh start, a chance to right the wrongs. Perhaps, in a way, I am actually lucky that December is my designated month of change. It's always a bit easier to implement changes when there is a definite starting line. There it is then, my silver lining.
In 2 days time I will have to leave here. At my time of arrival, I hadn't seen my brother or my older sister and my nieces, for a year and a half. The distance is unbelievably, unforgivably hard. Ironically, I have a bad experience to thank for that opportunity to see them. I will see them again in March, when they will be flying out for, what should have been a wedding, so again, I have this bad experience to thank for that opportunity!
Isn't it amazing that when you lift off the blanket, and open your eyes, it isn't actually monsters you see; just undiscovered opportunities!
I should know better...
I always preach to my friends, and even acquaintances, about how the universe has a way of throwing a curve ball right at you, just at the moment that you are in that happy, content, smug little safe zone. It's quite interesting, then, how I never ever expect it, myself! I am ALWAYS surprised... usually horribly.
If I REALLY take the time to think about it, AFTER said curve ball has come flying out of left field, I realise that the signs were actually there all along. I simply refused to acknowledge them. You know how a little child, when scared of monsters at night, will cover their eyes with the blanket? The theory, and it makes perfect sense to a child, is that, if I can't see them, they can't see me and therefore can't hurt me. As one gets older, one begins to realise that this is far from true and yet, it's still so tempting to give in to that old tactic time and time again. All that really changes is the breed of monster, and the blanket!
I think that's why I actually SHOULD expect the curve ball (read: Monster), but I prefer, in a child-like way, to pretend it's not actually there. Fortunately for most children, the monster really IS just a figment of their imagination, however, for me, the monsters are quite real and so scary that I've chosen to blanket them out.
I won't go into all of them, however, let me give you an idea of the pattern my Decembers have followed in recent years...
2 Decembers ago, saw the end of a relationship that signalled the end, sadly, of a friendship as well. I'm not sure why that happened but I think that is the danger of never really talking things out and I was too upset with myself, and the other party, to sort it out then and there. Time marches on, lives go on, and we move on... or do we? The fact that it was a landmark in my life suggest otherwise to me. It was a disconcerting, unwanted curveball and it definitely changed me.
1 December ago I was on my way to a show when I received a call that irrevocably changed me. A close, very dear friend of mine had passed away suddenly and tragically. I was devastated and that December was spent trying to come to terms with it. Without a doubt, a tragic landmark that is indelibly etched on the wall of my mind, and my heart and no December will EVER be the same.
It's hard to believe a year has passed but here I am at another December and I find myself, once again, reeling in shock. This time, it's the end of a relationship I thought was The One. I suppose this one will get more attention as the others have been covered in-depth and this, I have yet to compartmentalise in my mind.
I have covered the obligatory falling apart phase. I allowed myself approximately 2 weeks during which time I did all the usual things one does in this situation. We've all been there and I'm sure you don't expect me to elaborate. If you do, you may be in for a bit of a wait...
And then, a lifeline! My family, my wonderful family, decided to rescue me from a lonely, empty Johannesburg, and transport me to... the United Kingdom?! Whoa, back up here I can hear you say. You left sunny South Africa to travel to a cold, dark, wet place for 2 weeks?
Yes... I most certainly did. In fact, I would have sold my soul to have done that but fortunately for me, I didn't have to. There was a time when I might not have jumped at the opportunity. I have always disliked England and London in particular. There was also a time when my family and I did not quite see eye to eye on certain things and, at that time, the end of a relationship might very well be cause for celebration on their part! I exaggerate slightly but I do know that, offering condolences in this kind of situation would seem foreign and perhaps, unnecessary, to them. That was at a time when empathy was hard to conjure up for both parties concerned.
Since that time, we have talked, and cried, and talked, and laughed, and talked, and hugged, and talked some more. It's amazing what you can fix by talking! In fact, everything is so well fixed that I felt comfortable crying on their shoulders, and they felt comfortable offering tissues and hugs.
I digress slightly but it was a necessary detour. To continue, there is no place in the world I would rather have been, than with my family. If that had meant travelling to Mars, I would have done it. There is no greater balm for the soul than being around people who know you, and all your faults, and feel free to tell them to you, while discussing the merits of Sensodyne toothpaste and what we're having for lunch! When it comes to family, you know, or you SHOULD know, that, no matter how dramatic and hurtful the disagreement, you will STILL be there for each other and love each other. It's an unspoken rule.
After 2 weeks with my quirky, slightly off-the-wall family, I feel quite close to normal again! I feel like a hazelnut, who's shell unexpectedly cracked open and peeled off, leaving the soft centre unprotected and bare, that has been dipped in rich, dark chocolate! (I only choose dark because it's my favourite kind!) It's much more user-friendly than a hard shell, and a much more gentle kind of protection for the hazelnut. In short, I feel quite deliciously safe again!
25 days after a chapter in my life suddenly ended, I am once again at a crossroads. Perhaps there's a reason why this always happens in December. January signals new beginnings, a fresh start, a chance to right the wrongs. Perhaps, in a way, I am actually lucky that December is my designated month of change. It's always a bit easier to implement changes when there is a definite starting line. There it is then, my silver lining.
In 2 days time I will have to leave here. At my time of arrival, I hadn't seen my brother or my older sister and my nieces, for a year and a half. The distance is unbelievably, unforgivably hard. Ironically, I have a bad experience to thank for that opportunity to see them. I will see them again in March, when they will be flying out for, what should have been a wedding, so again, I have this bad experience to thank for that opportunity!
Isn't it amazing that when you lift off the blanket, and open your eyes, it isn't actually monsters you see; just undiscovered opportunities!
Saturday, December 5, 2009
A place in my space
I should warn you right from the start that this is probably not going to have much to do what with music... or maybe it will... I never know where my mind is going to wander when I sit down to type. But, either way, it's typed by a musician and, as far as I'm concerned, that's what this blog is for: A Musician's Musings. So here I sit and muse away...
I've circled my blog like a wary fighter for days now. I started typing but it felt contrived. I'm still not sure if this will end up getting posted. It depends how honest I can be with myself I guess. I'm a firm believer in honesty; especially with oneself. If you can't be honest with yourself, there's a good chance that you're going to be dishonest with someone else. That's the way I figure it anyway. I always thought it was hardest to be honest with oneself. A lot of you may disagree. Humour me for a moment here.
The person you spend the most time with, is yourself. It stands to reason, then, that you should have a high enough opinion of yourself to be able to stand yourself for long periods! The problem though, is that when you spend a lot of time with anyone, they start to become aware of all your faults and shortcomings. We can therefore safely assume that no-one is more aware of their own shortcomings, than you are of your own and that's a really hard pill to swallow for some! It's a simple step from there, to telling yourself little lies. Is this confusing the hell out of you? Good! It's doing the same to me! I don't really care what point I was trying to get across anymore, but the thing is, if you have a low opinion of yourself, it's going to prove incredibly difficult to still be able to look yourself in the eye and say, "You screwed up!" It's going to be even harder to look someone you love in the eye and say, "I screwed up!"
I guess that's what I'm getting at. It starts with you. That's a hard reality for some. Take me, for example. For reasons that aren't relevant to this blog, I grew up doubting and questioning myself a lot. I had a very low opinion of myself and that meant I made a lot of stupid choices. I admit that now but it took me years to be able to. I wanted to point fingers at everything and everyone else because it was so much easier than admitting the fault was with me. The problem with doing that is that my conscience wouldn't allow me. That meant that I had to do some soul searching and, after years of denial, I looked myself in the eye, and said, "YOU are responsible for EVERYTHING that has gone wrong in your life. Accept it, and try to fix it."
I think I sound horribly like every self-help book I've ever read! Perhaps it would be pertinent to say that this blog is not only for my own benefit. It's not for ALL of you either. Although, it would be nice to know that it strikes a chord here and there... No, this blog is aimed at one person in particular and they know who they are. I think the reason I have circled around typing this is because I get the feeling that it will fall on deaf ears. No wait, not deaf ears, but SELECTIVE HEARING ears. I'm sure you're all familiar with those types. You can say something over and over but a person will pick out ONE point and that will become their entire focus despite all the other important issues. It's easier to focus on one thing you've done wrong. The alternative, which is having to focus on several at once, is too daunting. These SELECTIVE HEARING types are prime examples of people who can't face their own faults.
That brings us right back to my previous point; being too honest with yourself is very hard. It's easier to kid yourself. If you buy into your own lies, it makes the next step, which is lying to the person in front of you, even easier, because you can justify your actions to yourself, with a lie that you actually believe. Of course, if you're dealing with a person who has been down this road before, then you are in trouble. The chances are good that they will see through you. If not in that specific moment, then in another moment. It will come. Trust me.
There are all sorts of complications attached to lying, to yourself and to those around you. It takes a very smart, quick-witted person, to maintain a lie to another person. It is a delicate balancing act of intricate and astronomical proportions. Picture a house of cards... Now imagine pulling just ONE out. We all know the result. Imagine several lies... I can't even begin to. The thought exhausts me. Seems like a lot of effort for something that is only going to end in disaster. It's slightly different if you are only lying to yourself. You can just deny the issues and stop looking yourself in the eye to make it easier! When you start to involve others in the lie, there are more minds involved and lots of memories tuned into your ONE lie while you are juggling several.
If you do the math and factor in the theory of relativity, the chances are good that YOU are going to drop a ball somewhere and, while you will probably have forgotten the exact details of the lie you told, someone, somewhere, has recalled ALL the details. Often it's not even just someONE, but many people. That would make it even harder to backtrack because it's harder to convince an ENTIRE group of people that they are ALL mistaken and only you, are not.
I'm starting to bore myself! I just think I've talked this to death in so many different circumstances and it still comes down to the same thing: It's easier to tell the truth in the long run, than it is to lie. It means you never have to remember what you said! So why is it so hard, in practice, to be honest? It starts with us. When we start lying to ourselves, we start losing touch with that reality that creates a safe space to just be ourselves, with ourselves, and then, in turn, with other people.
A space is as safe as you want it to be. You create it by giving honesty and trusting that you are going to get it back. The worst thing you can do is to take a safe place, that you and a loved one have created, and violate it with lies. Please don't ever kid yourself that there are bigger and smaller lies. They all leave the same stain on the white wall of a safe place. Have you ever tried to wipe off a stain from a white wall with a damp cloth? It invariably leaves an even bigger stain! You can paint over it again but you will always know that stain is there, it'll just be under cover.
The moral of the story, I think, is to love yourself, faults and all. That means you won't have to lie to yourself and that makes it much easier to be honest with those around you because you know that their opinion is not that important. Why? Because you are perfectly happy with yourself!
This can only benefit you because it will make your world a safe place, not only for you, but for those that take the chance of entering your space and sitting comfortably inside it without fear for their own safe space. When two people can share a safe place and not feel threatened, it is a rare and beautiful thing.
I often wonder how people do that so easily. Just take the chance and let go and simply believe. I used to be able to but experience has convinced me that people are fallible and chances are good that that feeling of bliss and safety can't last. How do you bounce back from it? Maybe you don't. Maybe you just go into the next space more wary. That thought makes me sad though because where can a person just go and feel safe?
I'll tell you where there IS a guaranteed safe space. It's my own space. There is room only for me and, because I am honest with myself, I know there is no chance of discovering some nasty untruths. The boat will never be rocked and my space will never be threatened. That should be a comforting thought, shouldn't it?
Why then, despite my sense of safety, do I feel so empty and alone? That is what happens when a person is forced to lock it down and protect themselves. If you do that to yourself, that is your own choice and your own cross to bear, but if you force another to raise the walls and protect themselves, you may have to consider that it's time to turn your eyes inward and try a bit self analysis.
Look in the mirror, deep into your own eyes, and ask yourself, "What gave me the right to trample on private property, offered to me in love? What twisted part of me thought that I was allowed to leave my muddy boots on, trample betrayal everywhere and foul the air with dirty words? When did I forget that it was a privilege to be there and not mine for the taking?" When you can do that, and answer yourself honestly, then you MIGHT be forgiven.
Until then, I will not paint over the stains you left. I will keep them there, in the open, to remind me of the depth of betrayal and your capacity for dishonesty with yourself and with me. When I'm strong enough, I'll paint over the stains with a fresh coat of bright red and create a new space that you will never EVER be able to invade again.
I will always know the stains are there but that's good because that will be a constant reminder to NEVER let anyone take the offer of a place in my space for granted, EVER again.
I've circled my blog like a wary fighter for days now. I started typing but it felt contrived. I'm still not sure if this will end up getting posted. It depends how honest I can be with myself I guess. I'm a firm believer in honesty; especially with oneself. If you can't be honest with yourself, there's a good chance that you're going to be dishonest with someone else. That's the way I figure it anyway. I always thought it was hardest to be honest with oneself. A lot of you may disagree. Humour me for a moment here.
The person you spend the most time with, is yourself. It stands to reason, then, that you should have a high enough opinion of yourself to be able to stand yourself for long periods! The problem though, is that when you spend a lot of time with anyone, they start to become aware of all your faults and shortcomings. We can therefore safely assume that no-one is more aware of their own shortcomings, than you are of your own and that's a really hard pill to swallow for some! It's a simple step from there, to telling yourself little lies. Is this confusing the hell out of you? Good! It's doing the same to me! I don't really care what point I was trying to get across anymore, but the thing is, if you have a low opinion of yourself, it's going to prove incredibly difficult to still be able to look yourself in the eye and say, "You screwed up!" It's going to be even harder to look someone you love in the eye and say, "I screwed up!"
I guess that's what I'm getting at. It starts with you. That's a hard reality for some. Take me, for example. For reasons that aren't relevant to this blog, I grew up doubting and questioning myself a lot. I had a very low opinion of myself and that meant I made a lot of stupid choices. I admit that now but it took me years to be able to. I wanted to point fingers at everything and everyone else because it was so much easier than admitting the fault was with me. The problem with doing that is that my conscience wouldn't allow me. That meant that I had to do some soul searching and, after years of denial, I looked myself in the eye, and said, "YOU are responsible for EVERYTHING that has gone wrong in your life. Accept it, and try to fix it."
I think I sound horribly like every self-help book I've ever read! Perhaps it would be pertinent to say that this blog is not only for my own benefit. It's not for ALL of you either. Although, it would be nice to know that it strikes a chord here and there... No, this blog is aimed at one person in particular and they know who they are. I think the reason I have circled around typing this is because I get the feeling that it will fall on deaf ears. No wait, not deaf ears, but SELECTIVE HEARING ears. I'm sure you're all familiar with those types. You can say something over and over but a person will pick out ONE point and that will become their entire focus despite all the other important issues. It's easier to focus on one thing you've done wrong. The alternative, which is having to focus on several at once, is too daunting. These SELECTIVE HEARING types are prime examples of people who can't face their own faults.
That brings us right back to my previous point; being too honest with yourself is very hard. It's easier to kid yourself. If you buy into your own lies, it makes the next step, which is lying to the person in front of you, even easier, because you can justify your actions to yourself, with a lie that you actually believe. Of course, if you're dealing with a person who has been down this road before, then you are in trouble. The chances are good that they will see through you. If not in that specific moment, then in another moment. It will come. Trust me.
There are all sorts of complications attached to lying, to yourself and to those around you. It takes a very smart, quick-witted person, to maintain a lie to another person. It is a delicate balancing act of intricate and astronomical proportions. Picture a house of cards... Now imagine pulling just ONE out. We all know the result. Imagine several lies... I can't even begin to. The thought exhausts me. Seems like a lot of effort for something that is only going to end in disaster. It's slightly different if you are only lying to yourself. You can just deny the issues and stop looking yourself in the eye to make it easier! When you start to involve others in the lie, there are more minds involved and lots of memories tuned into your ONE lie while you are juggling several.
If you do the math and factor in the theory of relativity, the chances are good that YOU are going to drop a ball somewhere and, while you will probably have forgotten the exact details of the lie you told, someone, somewhere, has recalled ALL the details. Often it's not even just someONE, but many people. That would make it even harder to backtrack because it's harder to convince an ENTIRE group of people that they are ALL mistaken and only you, are not.
I'm starting to bore myself! I just think I've talked this to death in so many different circumstances and it still comes down to the same thing: It's easier to tell the truth in the long run, than it is to lie. It means you never have to remember what you said! So why is it so hard, in practice, to be honest? It starts with us. When we start lying to ourselves, we start losing touch with that reality that creates a safe space to just be ourselves, with ourselves, and then, in turn, with other people.
A space is as safe as you want it to be. You create it by giving honesty and trusting that you are going to get it back. The worst thing you can do is to take a safe place, that you and a loved one have created, and violate it with lies. Please don't ever kid yourself that there are bigger and smaller lies. They all leave the same stain on the white wall of a safe place. Have you ever tried to wipe off a stain from a white wall with a damp cloth? It invariably leaves an even bigger stain! You can paint over it again but you will always know that stain is there, it'll just be under cover.
The moral of the story, I think, is to love yourself, faults and all. That means you won't have to lie to yourself and that makes it much easier to be honest with those around you because you know that their opinion is not that important. Why? Because you are perfectly happy with yourself!
This can only benefit you because it will make your world a safe place, not only for you, but for those that take the chance of entering your space and sitting comfortably inside it without fear for their own safe space. When two people can share a safe place and not feel threatened, it is a rare and beautiful thing.
I often wonder how people do that so easily. Just take the chance and let go and simply believe. I used to be able to but experience has convinced me that people are fallible and chances are good that that feeling of bliss and safety can't last. How do you bounce back from it? Maybe you don't. Maybe you just go into the next space more wary. That thought makes me sad though because where can a person just go and feel safe?
I'll tell you where there IS a guaranteed safe space. It's my own space. There is room only for me and, because I am honest with myself, I know there is no chance of discovering some nasty untruths. The boat will never be rocked and my space will never be threatened. That should be a comforting thought, shouldn't it?
Why then, despite my sense of safety, do I feel so empty and alone? That is what happens when a person is forced to lock it down and protect themselves. If you do that to yourself, that is your own choice and your own cross to bear, but if you force another to raise the walls and protect themselves, you may have to consider that it's time to turn your eyes inward and try a bit self analysis.
Look in the mirror, deep into your own eyes, and ask yourself, "What gave me the right to trample on private property, offered to me in love? What twisted part of me thought that I was allowed to leave my muddy boots on, trample betrayal everywhere and foul the air with dirty words? When did I forget that it was a privilege to be there and not mine for the taking?" When you can do that, and answer yourself honestly, then you MIGHT be forgiven.
Until then, I will not paint over the stains you left. I will keep them there, in the open, to remind me of the depth of betrayal and your capacity for dishonesty with yourself and with me. When I'm strong enough, I'll paint over the stains with a fresh coat of bright red and create a new space that you will never EVER be able to invade again.
I will always know the stains are there but that's good because that will be a constant reminder to NEVER let anyone take the offer of a place in my space for granted, EVER again.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
The music in me
Approximately 21 years ago (ooer, giving my age away!), I was given the most incredible gift. It was so incredible that it changed the course of my life. The gift was a guitar. My father paid R5 for it. That translates to far less than a dollar! I wish I had taken a photo of this guitar because I'm not sure that people believe me when I describe it to them.
The body of the guitar was entirely split open and it transpired that the guitar had actually fallen out of the top of someone's cupboard and the impact had split open the guitar making it fairly worthless to the owner (R5 worthless) but invaluable to my folks and to me. Why? Because I had been begging them for any kind of musical instrument from a very young age and, being a financially challenged family, musical instruments were rather near the bottom of the list of priorities, despite the fact that my entire family is musical. In this gift, my folks had found an answer to my pleading, and I had found THE answer. (cue triumphant music, angel choirs etc etc)
Anyone who understands ANYTHING about the workings of a string instrument will know that there is a reason for the shape and size of the BODY of a guitar or, indeed, ANY string instrument. (violin, cello, you get the idea) It creates sound volume and depth. Alter the shape even slightly and you lose a lot of quality....ahem, quality is NOT the word that comes to mind when I remember the sound of my first guitar! Unless you are going specifically for the sound of a banjo with cotton for strings. Yes, my pride and joy sounded HORRIBLE. (Well, in its defense, the body was split WIDE open on the end!) I didn't care, so proud was I, of that guitar. I had no guitar case but this suited me well because it meant that, when I walked to school, absolutely NO-ONE could mistake that instrument for anything BUT a guitar. I carried it with pride. I wore it like a badge that said, "musician" and, twice a week, we walked to school together for our guitar club lesson.
Mrs Immelman, a woman that changed my life without even realising it, was a teacher who held guitar club once a week. If you attended this club, you were entitled to one free lesson a week. Wild horses wouldn't have kept me away. I lived for those lessons. They were my only path to musical freedom. (guitar lessons were too expensive) I ate, slept, breathed guitar. I locked myself in my room for hours struggling to get myself comfortably from D to G to A without taking ages to position my fingers. I cried with frustration that I couldn't just make the music come but nothing would make me give up. I had found my passion and an outlet for the teenage angst I was feeling.
I made it through the basic chords just in time for my folks to announce that I would be leaving my school and moving to a new school. I was devastated mostly because of my guitar lessons! No amount of begging and pleading sufficed though and, after a tearful goodbye to Mrs Immelman, we moved on.
Left with no choice, I began to teach myself as much as I could. Most of the time I had no idea what chords I was playing because I had never learnt the intricacies of musical theory and I still haven't. But I picked things up as I went along. To this day I can't tell you the chords for a large number of my own compositions but I am very lucky to be working with such talented musicians that they can pick up where I am going musically with a song. I hear it all in my head. The translation is just a bit tricky!
But I digress...
Sometime after moving suburbs and schools, I was offered a nylon string, almost new, guitar that was completely whole in every way! It was too good to pass up and I decided, since I was being given a guitar, it seemed fair to pass on my first guitar to a friend who was keen to learn. Paying it forward was never so hard. I still miss that guitar and I doubt it ever found an owner who loved it more than I did. I wish I had been able to keep it but it wasn't meant to be.
Once I had made friends with the "newbie" we got on just fine and the songs started to flow out of me. They were nowhere near SAMA award winning compositions but it was a very exciting time for me because I was finding myself as a musician and songwriter.
And then the day came when my parents came home with a casio keyboard!
They were given it by someone in their church. It was like manna from heaven for me! A guitar AND a keyboard?! Of course, we all fought over it but I managed to get my quota of time with it and I made the most of it. I tinkered around on it and composed little tunes that I can no longer remember. They were very simple and very melancholy! However, it was frustration at how limiting my lack of know-how was, that spurred me on to find out how to play chords.
There was a setting you could use that meant, if you pressed any of the keys in the lowest octave on the keyboard, it played the full chord. Each of the lower keys was labelled from A to G so I knew which one was which. Using that, and my guitar for help, I listened to the notes that sounded in each chord and then I would continue holding down the key while I found each of the notes I heard, in the higher octaves on the keyboard. I would hold down each key that sounded right until I found the three that I heard predominantly in the entire chord coming from the bottom octave.
Shew! It was a long process and I must have driven my family insane, but I worked my way through all the chords until I had learnt all of the majors, and then all of the minors and then I spent weeks getting comfortable with where they were on the keyboard so that I could play them with confidence. I really just wanted to get to a place where I was comfortable enough to write songs and I did get there eventually. That was when I started writing songs for my class to sing in the inter-class singing competition. Of course I didn't tell them it was my songs! However, the eventually guessed and we went on to win a few of them.
These are moments I remember with a little pride and a lot of happiness. There are few things that fulfill me more than music itself. Perhaps the only thing that fulfills me more, is seeing people get something out of my own music. I was such a terribly shy young girl, but my music compelled me to get on a stage. I made myself ill with stage fright but once I was up there, I felt so alive and so capable of anything. I felt invincible. I think that only a performer will really understand that feeling. However, all you have to do is replace music with your own passion, and maybe you'll get an idea.
Much time has passed since all of that and things have changed. I am still given guitars but now they are sponsored by Ovation! The keyboard has altered in size and stature but it is still a Casio and I am still being given those too! One could say I'm truly blessed and that would be accurate. To me, they are all signs that I am on the right track. The universe knew that I was meant to make music and it lead me along that path even though the odds seemed stacked against me in many ways. There are times when I feel that perhaps it's time to throw in the... guitar? It's hard making money off of something you love because it feels wrong. We have to compromise our principles in more than a few ways and that bothers me.
At the heart of it, I'm still just that young girl who loves to lock herself in her room for hours and write song after song after song... but being an adult with responsibilities doesn't allow you that luxury and I'm a guilty of forgetting how much it fulfills me when I get caught up in the stress of life and paying bills. Creativity takes a back seat. However, at times like this, when I force myself to remember, I can almost feel that passion and drive that had me sitting at that keyboard for hours, days, weeks...And then I realise the catch 22 that I am in.
I need my talent to survive, and that leaves it open to abuse from the one person that always treasured it most. However, if I honour my talent, there is no question of survival. It has honoured me from day one and I am still able to look to it for sustenance. And so, hard as it may be at times, I will continue to honour it the best way I know how.
That is why I WILL sit at that keyboard and spend time with my guitar and allow it to work it's way out of my heart and into the keys and strings and melodies and lyrics that form the songs that, in turn, honour the music in me.
The body of the guitar was entirely split open and it transpired that the guitar had actually fallen out of the top of someone's cupboard and the impact had split open the guitar making it fairly worthless to the owner (R5 worthless) but invaluable to my folks and to me. Why? Because I had been begging them for any kind of musical instrument from a very young age and, being a financially challenged family, musical instruments were rather near the bottom of the list of priorities, despite the fact that my entire family is musical. In this gift, my folks had found an answer to my pleading, and I had found THE answer. (cue triumphant music, angel choirs etc etc)
Anyone who understands ANYTHING about the workings of a string instrument will know that there is a reason for the shape and size of the BODY of a guitar or, indeed, ANY string instrument. (violin, cello, you get the idea) It creates sound volume and depth. Alter the shape even slightly and you lose a lot of quality....ahem, quality is NOT the word that comes to mind when I remember the sound of my first guitar! Unless you are going specifically for the sound of a banjo with cotton for strings. Yes, my pride and joy sounded HORRIBLE. (Well, in its defense, the body was split WIDE open on the end!) I didn't care, so proud was I, of that guitar. I had no guitar case but this suited me well because it meant that, when I walked to school, absolutely NO-ONE could mistake that instrument for anything BUT a guitar. I carried it with pride. I wore it like a badge that said, "musician" and, twice a week, we walked to school together for our guitar club lesson.
Mrs Immelman, a woman that changed my life without even realising it, was a teacher who held guitar club once a week. If you attended this club, you were entitled to one free lesson a week. Wild horses wouldn't have kept me away. I lived for those lessons. They were my only path to musical freedom. (guitar lessons were too expensive) I ate, slept, breathed guitar. I locked myself in my room for hours struggling to get myself comfortably from D to G to A without taking ages to position my fingers. I cried with frustration that I couldn't just make the music come but nothing would make me give up. I had found my passion and an outlet for the teenage angst I was feeling.
I made it through the basic chords just in time for my folks to announce that I would be leaving my school and moving to a new school. I was devastated mostly because of my guitar lessons! No amount of begging and pleading sufficed though and, after a tearful goodbye to Mrs Immelman, we moved on.
Left with no choice, I began to teach myself as much as I could. Most of the time I had no idea what chords I was playing because I had never learnt the intricacies of musical theory and I still haven't. But I picked things up as I went along. To this day I can't tell you the chords for a large number of my own compositions but I am very lucky to be working with such talented musicians that they can pick up where I am going musically with a song. I hear it all in my head. The translation is just a bit tricky!
But I digress...
Sometime after moving suburbs and schools, I was offered a nylon string, almost new, guitar that was completely whole in every way! It was too good to pass up and I decided, since I was being given a guitar, it seemed fair to pass on my first guitar to a friend who was keen to learn. Paying it forward was never so hard. I still miss that guitar and I doubt it ever found an owner who loved it more than I did. I wish I had been able to keep it but it wasn't meant to be.
Once I had made friends with the "newbie" we got on just fine and the songs started to flow out of me. They were nowhere near SAMA award winning compositions but it was a very exciting time for me because I was finding myself as a musician and songwriter.
And then the day came when my parents came home with a casio keyboard!
They were given it by someone in their church. It was like manna from heaven for me! A guitar AND a keyboard?! Of course, we all fought over it but I managed to get my quota of time with it and I made the most of it. I tinkered around on it and composed little tunes that I can no longer remember. They were very simple and very melancholy! However, it was frustration at how limiting my lack of know-how was, that spurred me on to find out how to play chords.
There was a setting you could use that meant, if you pressed any of the keys in the lowest octave on the keyboard, it played the full chord. Each of the lower keys was labelled from A to G so I knew which one was which. Using that, and my guitar for help, I listened to the notes that sounded in each chord and then I would continue holding down the key while I found each of the notes I heard, in the higher octaves on the keyboard. I would hold down each key that sounded right until I found the three that I heard predominantly in the entire chord coming from the bottom octave.
Shew! It was a long process and I must have driven my family insane, but I worked my way through all the chords until I had learnt all of the majors, and then all of the minors and then I spent weeks getting comfortable with where they were on the keyboard so that I could play them with confidence. I really just wanted to get to a place where I was comfortable enough to write songs and I did get there eventually. That was when I started writing songs for my class to sing in the inter-class singing competition. Of course I didn't tell them it was my songs! However, the eventually guessed and we went on to win a few of them.
These are moments I remember with a little pride and a lot of happiness. There are few things that fulfill me more than music itself. Perhaps the only thing that fulfills me more, is seeing people get something out of my own music. I was such a terribly shy young girl, but my music compelled me to get on a stage. I made myself ill with stage fright but once I was up there, I felt so alive and so capable of anything. I felt invincible. I think that only a performer will really understand that feeling. However, all you have to do is replace music with your own passion, and maybe you'll get an idea.
Much time has passed since all of that and things have changed. I am still given guitars but now they are sponsored by Ovation! The keyboard has altered in size and stature but it is still a Casio and I am still being given those too! One could say I'm truly blessed and that would be accurate. To me, they are all signs that I am on the right track. The universe knew that I was meant to make music and it lead me along that path even though the odds seemed stacked against me in many ways. There are times when I feel that perhaps it's time to throw in the... guitar? It's hard making money off of something you love because it feels wrong. We have to compromise our principles in more than a few ways and that bothers me.
At the heart of it, I'm still just that young girl who loves to lock herself in her room for hours and write song after song after song... but being an adult with responsibilities doesn't allow you that luxury and I'm a guilty of forgetting how much it fulfills me when I get caught up in the stress of life and paying bills. Creativity takes a back seat. However, at times like this, when I force myself to remember, I can almost feel that passion and drive that had me sitting at that keyboard for hours, days, weeks...And then I realise the catch 22 that I am in.
I need my talent to survive, and that leaves it open to abuse from the one person that always treasured it most. However, if I honour my talent, there is no question of survival. It has honoured me from day one and I am still able to look to it for sustenance. And so, hard as it may be at times, I will continue to honour it the best way I know how.
That is why I WILL sit at that keyboard and spend time with my guitar and allow it to work it's way out of my heart and into the keys and strings and melodies and lyrics that form the songs that, in turn, honour the music in me.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Sexism, racism...musicism?
*Names and places have been changed to protect the privacy of the people involved.
I received an email on the 23rd of October from a booking agency looking to book me and a musician for a function at a restaurant we'll call *Yomos. I sent through the quote and, much to my surprise, they mailed back confirming the booking. The reason I was surprised is because the venue is known for a specific type of music... and it wasn't the type of music I was being asked for. They wanted a background band doing 3x45 min sets of mostly commercial covers from the 60's, 70's and 80's. Fun... Nonetheless, it's a gig so I called up *Andrea, a brilliant guitarist, and booked her.
There were many back and forth emails between myself and the agency, who we'll call *SoundCru. I like to be thorough when doing a booking. I made sure the sound was organised, the repertoire was sorted, the length of sets was determined and, after many emails requesting it, I finally got an itinerary for the evening. I noticed that they only had me down to perform twice during the function, otherwise the itinerary said "background music" I was a bit confused because I had been told WE were background music but now I had just discovered that we were actually doing a SHOW. This was the day before the function so I was a bit panicky. I emailed back to query it and was told that he "guesses the client made a mistake because it's actually 3x45 min sets and it is background music" I doubt that he checked up on it judging from what transpired but anyway, I told him that's fine because that's what I prepared for.
Show day arrived and Andrea and I were there at 3.30pm on the dot for setup and soundcheck. We're mid setup when 3 people come scurrying over to us with frowns on their faces. No, wait, with hindsight, ONE had a frown on her face. The other two looked vaguely unsure and maybe a tad guilty. Undeterred I did what any professional would do. I slapped a smile on my face, thrust my hand out at the nearest person and said, "Hi, I'm Melanie and this is Andrea and Ang" Looking a bit nonplussed, they all shook hands and muttered names to me. Then the woman with the frown LAUNCHED herself at me verbally saying, "What kind of music do you intend to perform here tonight?!" I looked around at all 3 faces looking earnestly back at me and said, "Well, it's a mixture of jazz, 80's, originals etc" The woman, who we will call *Beatrice (just because it seems to suit;) stared back at me accusingly and said, "You can't sing that here!" I was STILL incredibly confused but by this stage I'd realised that she was the manager of Yomos and the guy, *Paul, was the representative of SoundCru and the woman, *Thando, was the client who had booked the venue and organised the event with SoundCru. The last two were strangely silent but Beatrice was talking at 100 words a second. "I'm afraid we can't allow that kind of music in our venue. The contract clearly states that it's only world and ethnic music allowed here." She carried on in this vein for quite some time looking at me as if to say, "How dare you bring your filthy commercial music to this hallowed place."
Can I just digress for a moment here to say: The great irony is that I would've given anything to do a live show, just with 2 guitars, and my original music! But I wasn't given that brief and this was one hour before showtime that this huge breakdown in communication had become apparent. We hadn't rehearsed anything but what we had. Please note that it wasn't SoundCru getting accused and shouted at, it was me. Paul and Thando were strangely silent. Beatrice then said she would have to go and discuss this further with someone. (Hopefully that SOMEONE was actually dressed to meet and greet clients because I don't think slops and a washed out, shapeless, obviously old, dress is a way to make an impression!...Not that she seemed perturbed about that because, did I mention that she was just a restaurant manager?) The client, a very well known insurance company in SA, had paid for the venue and were now being told, on the day of their function, that they weren't good enough for Yomos. Never mind that I was being made to feel like Britney Spears at a Metallica concert!
When Beatrice finally returned, we were all still looking bemused and shell-shocked. She told me I was to sing as much original music as possible and to ABSOLUTELY NOT do songs that anyone would know or recognise! I was also only allowed to do a maximum of 2x30min sets of my evil music lest it poison the sacred Yomos air... I've been asked by clients to do certain genres. But I've never been ordered, by the person hiring the venue, to sing songs that their client will not recognise. Beatrice stormed off and we all stood silent for a while. I'm usually an over-cautious person, but because I'd sorted out everything to my satisfaction beforehand, I hadn't brought my laptop like I usually would have. This meant that I only had the setlist that had been planned. After a bit of discussion, Ang had to get back in the car and go all the way back to the office, in rush hour traffic, to get it. The round trip took her an hour and a half during which time Andrea and I sat and did nothing.
The function started and at 5.30 I was frantically sorting my set lists out and rewriting them for Andrea and myself. People started eating and we watched longingly as platters of food wafted past our noses. It was now close to 7pm. We'd been there since 3.30pm and hadn't been fed yet. We were on at 7.15pm. Much asking of the SoundCru group had yielded answers like, "The food hasn't come yet." Pardon my ignorance but that sure resembled food...
Nonetheless, being the professionals we are, we got on stage and waved to the sound guy to stop the background music so we could start. After the 5th attempt, he finally spotted us and the show began. (Course we didn't feel awkward or anything...) People were clapping. There was a nice response and then I got to the 4th song in our repertoire. It was a very hard song to sing and required me being able to hear myself perfectly. Halfway through the song, my monitors disappeared completely. I waved frantically while trying to still perform the song, an emotional ballad that was all strings and piano. Nobody seemed to notice my distress. I then tried asking, in between singing, that my monitors be turned up, to no avail. I cupped my hand over my ear (a vocalist trick) and strained to listen and realised I'd wandered right off the key of the song because I couldn't hear the music at all. The song, which is usually a highlight in any show, fizzled out eventually and I had to stop it. They had turned the sound system completely off!
Suddenly the sound man, and another man full of self importance, were next to the stage looking at me very seriously. "You're too loud," he said. Ironically, this was the gentlest song in the entire repertoire... I looked at the sound guy and said,"If we're too loud for them, turn down the front of house, but leave my monitors please." How can I sing if I can hear nothing from any speaker? (The mains were already completely off so I had nothing to work with!) After much discussion, the very important man managed to assure the sound guy that our monitors could be up, as long as the mains were SWITCHED OFF! Pardon my ignorance, but what is the point of us doing a live show? Anyway, the show carried on and I had my monitors back so we sang as if people actually cared. After our designated 30 minutes of "non-commercial" music, we went back to our corner to find that no food had arrived yet. It was now 8pm. We hadn't eaten for at least 6 hours. Lunch was a long time ago... Ang got very irate at this point and started making demands for food. On one of her (many) trips to find food, she was waylaid by the client who told her to please disregard what Yomos manager had said. They wanted to hear 70's and 80's music!
Back to the laptop I went and reworked the set list yet again! By this stage professionalism had taken a bit of dive and we'd ordered a bottle of wine! We were due to start at 8.15pm again but at 8.05pm Paul and Thando both came and said it was time to start. I forgot all diplomacy at this juncture and said, "Please, we have to eat before we go on!" The shock! "You haven't eaten yet?!!? Well why didn't you say so?! We'll sort that out immediately!" Blank looks passed from guitarist, to singer, to manager... In the distance, we saw a waitron bearing plates! Choirs sang, drums rolled, our tummies grumbled and we dived in, shovelling it down with a minute to spare before showtime. The worst thing about eating just before you sing is the way it tends to repeat on you... (That is why I stipulate that dinner must be an hour before the show.) However, nothing about this show was going according to contract and onto the stage we jumped.
Frantic waving at the sound guy got no response so Andrea put down her guitar and walked to the sound desk and asked him to please un-mute our channels so we could start. We launched into "Walking in memphis" and people looked on appreciatively and smiled and clapped and then... the sound went off. In despair we looked at each other and Andrea put her guitar down again and walked to the sound desk. Then a group of solemn faces walked over to the stage. "You're too loud," he said. I looked at him blankly and said, "How do you expect us to perform if EVERYTHING is off?" At which point I suggested as politely as possible, that he put on a cd of world music and forget the live music. I'm not one to shirk my duty but I know when I'm beat! The decision was unanimous and we packed up our stuff and went and polished off the wine!
Paul wandered over to us eventually and shrugged and sighed and said, "What can you do?" and that was the full extent of his apology. After a bit more sighing, he wandered off. Blank looks once again passed between musician, singer and manager...
Some may wonder why he was required to apologise... well, he was the booking agent. Technically it is their job to make sure the client is well informed about everything to do with the show. The way it turned out, the musicians were made to look like the idiots who hadn't done what we were supposed to do, because we were given the wrong brief. The only ones in the spotlight, were us. There was no explanation given to the rest of the group of people. There was only one man who felt we were too loud. Everyone else was enjoying it but all they saw was us getting chased off the stage! People came to ask us afterwards because no-one understood. One guy said, "We thought you were good, even if some of the others didn't!" It had nothing to do with them not liking us and everything to do with the fact that he couldn't talk to his friends. However, our reputation definitely took a knock last night.
We did everything possible to please everyone there, right down to reworking the entire set list 4 times! But, at the end of the day, the fact is that the entertainment is at the bottom of the food chain. Everyone else was taken care of down to the last detail but no-one had thought to sort out the band properly. And the band took the blame at the end of it all. I had to swallow my pride and realise this was no reflection on me and my professionalism. It WAS a bitter pill to swallow when I realised SoundCru were not actually going to take the blame for it. I was told by the client to be more specific about what I do next time! But I had never dealt with the client until I met them last night, SoundCru had done all the dealings.
If anyone was wondering why I started Mellow Music? THIS is why. I have yet to meet a booking agency that puts their artists before their clients... And that's not good enough for me. The entertainment is the glue that holds a function together and yet they are always an afterthought. No-one remembers the chair covers after a function! They remember that they danced the night away and had a great time. They remember that the music was good, or the comedian was funny, or the dancers were brilliant. Think about how any event would be if there were dead silence throughout. Bit awkward I think...
Music is a language that everyone understands. Not everyone can do it. It's a talent that should be appreciated in any shape or form. We artists just carry on regardless but it's no wonder so many of us eventually succumb and join the 9 to 5 slog. And the greater irony is that many people think that, as an established, award winning musician, I am treated with respect. As you can see, it makes no difference what you've achieved. You may have a masters in music but you are still just part of the hired help. I'm not bitter. All I can do is laugh at the end of the day! That's what we all do.
I won't take it when it comes to my artists though. So here is a plea to all of you to send out the word. Let's make Mellow Music the top booking agency in the country so that our artists can be treated with the respect that they deserve! We have come so far in so many things. Sexism is SO last season, racism is unacceptable.
Don't you think it's time musicism got put firmly in it's place?
www.mellowmusic.co.za
I received an email on the 23rd of October from a booking agency looking to book me and a musician for a function at a restaurant we'll call *Yomos. I sent through the quote and, much to my surprise, they mailed back confirming the booking. The reason I was surprised is because the venue is known for a specific type of music... and it wasn't the type of music I was being asked for. They wanted a background band doing 3x45 min sets of mostly commercial covers from the 60's, 70's and 80's. Fun... Nonetheless, it's a gig so I called up *Andrea, a brilliant guitarist, and booked her.
There were many back and forth emails between myself and the agency, who we'll call *SoundCru. I like to be thorough when doing a booking. I made sure the sound was organised, the repertoire was sorted, the length of sets was determined and, after many emails requesting it, I finally got an itinerary for the evening. I noticed that they only had me down to perform twice during the function, otherwise the itinerary said "background music" I was a bit confused because I had been told WE were background music but now I had just discovered that we were actually doing a SHOW. This was the day before the function so I was a bit panicky. I emailed back to query it and was told that he "guesses the client made a mistake because it's actually 3x45 min sets and it is background music" I doubt that he checked up on it judging from what transpired but anyway, I told him that's fine because that's what I prepared for.
Show day arrived and Andrea and I were there at 3.30pm on the dot for setup and soundcheck. We're mid setup when 3 people come scurrying over to us with frowns on their faces. No, wait, with hindsight, ONE had a frown on her face. The other two looked vaguely unsure and maybe a tad guilty. Undeterred I did what any professional would do. I slapped a smile on my face, thrust my hand out at the nearest person and said, "Hi, I'm Melanie and this is Andrea and Ang" Looking a bit nonplussed, they all shook hands and muttered names to me. Then the woman with the frown LAUNCHED herself at me verbally saying, "What kind of music do you intend to perform here tonight?!" I looked around at all 3 faces looking earnestly back at me and said, "Well, it's a mixture of jazz, 80's, originals etc" The woman, who we will call *Beatrice (just because it seems to suit;) stared back at me accusingly and said, "You can't sing that here!" I was STILL incredibly confused but by this stage I'd realised that she was the manager of Yomos and the guy, *Paul, was the representative of SoundCru and the woman, *Thando, was the client who had booked the venue and organised the event with SoundCru. The last two were strangely silent but Beatrice was talking at 100 words a second. "I'm afraid we can't allow that kind of music in our venue. The contract clearly states that it's only world and ethnic music allowed here." She carried on in this vein for quite some time looking at me as if to say, "How dare you bring your filthy commercial music to this hallowed place."
Can I just digress for a moment here to say: The great irony is that I would've given anything to do a live show, just with 2 guitars, and my original music! But I wasn't given that brief and this was one hour before showtime that this huge breakdown in communication had become apparent. We hadn't rehearsed anything but what we had. Please note that it wasn't SoundCru getting accused and shouted at, it was me. Paul and Thando were strangely silent. Beatrice then said she would have to go and discuss this further with someone. (Hopefully that SOMEONE was actually dressed to meet and greet clients because I don't think slops and a washed out, shapeless, obviously old, dress is a way to make an impression!...Not that she seemed perturbed about that because, did I mention that she was just a restaurant manager?) The client, a very well known insurance company in SA, had paid for the venue and were now being told, on the day of their function, that they weren't good enough for Yomos. Never mind that I was being made to feel like Britney Spears at a Metallica concert!
When Beatrice finally returned, we were all still looking bemused and shell-shocked. She told me I was to sing as much original music as possible and to ABSOLUTELY NOT do songs that anyone would know or recognise! I was also only allowed to do a maximum of 2x30min sets of my evil music lest it poison the sacred Yomos air... I've been asked by clients to do certain genres. But I've never been ordered, by the person hiring the venue, to sing songs that their client will not recognise. Beatrice stormed off and we all stood silent for a while. I'm usually an over-cautious person, but because I'd sorted out everything to my satisfaction beforehand, I hadn't brought my laptop like I usually would have. This meant that I only had the setlist that had been planned. After a bit of discussion, Ang had to get back in the car and go all the way back to the office, in rush hour traffic, to get it. The round trip took her an hour and a half during which time Andrea and I sat and did nothing.
The function started and at 5.30 I was frantically sorting my set lists out and rewriting them for Andrea and myself. People started eating and we watched longingly as platters of food wafted past our noses. It was now close to 7pm. We'd been there since 3.30pm and hadn't been fed yet. We were on at 7.15pm. Much asking of the SoundCru group had yielded answers like, "The food hasn't come yet." Pardon my ignorance but that sure resembled food...
Nonetheless, being the professionals we are, we got on stage and waved to the sound guy to stop the background music so we could start. After the 5th attempt, he finally spotted us and the show began. (Course we didn't feel awkward or anything...) People were clapping. There was a nice response and then I got to the 4th song in our repertoire. It was a very hard song to sing and required me being able to hear myself perfectly. Halfway through the song, my monitors disappeared completely. I waved frantically while trying to still perform the song, an emotional ballad that was all strings and piano. Nobody seemed to notice my distress. I then tried asking, in between singing, that my monitors be turned up, to no avail. I cupped my hand over my ear (a vocalist trick) and strained to listen and realised I'd wandered right off the key of the song because I couldn't hear the music at all. The song, which is usually a highlight in any show, fizzled out eventually and I had to stop it. They had turned the sound system completely off!
Suddenly the sound man, and another man full of self importance, were next to the stage looking at me very seriously. "You're too loud," he said. Ironically, this was the gentlest song in the entire repertoire... I looked at the sound guy and said,"If we're too loud for them, turn down the front of house, but leave my monitors please." How can I sing if I can hear nothing from any speaker? (The mains were already completely off so I had nothing to work with!) After much discussion, the very important man managed to assure the sound guy that our monitors could be up, as long as the mains were SWITCHED OFF! Pardon my ignorance, but what is the point of us doing a live show? Anyway, the show carried on and I had my monitors back so we sang as if people actually cared. After our designated 30 minutes of "non-commercial" music, we went back to our corner to find that no food had arrived yet. It was now 8pm. We hadn't eaten for at least 6 hours. Lunch was a long time ago... Ang got very irate at this point and started making demands for food. On one of her (many) trips to find food, she was waylaid by the client who told her to please disregard what Yomos manager had said. They wanted to hear 70's and 80's music!
Back to the laptop I went and reworked the set list yet again! By this stage professionalism had taken a bit of dive and we'd ordered a bottle of wine! We were due to start at 8.15pm again but at 8.05pm Paul and Thando both came and said it was time to start. I forgot all diplomacy at this juncture and said, "Please, we have to eat before we go on!" The shock! "You haven't eaten yet?!!? Well why didn't you say so?! We'll sort that out immediately!" Blank looks passed from guitarist, to singer, to manager... In the distance, we saw a waitron bearing plates! Choirs sang, drums rolled, our tummies grumbled and we dived in, shovelling it down with a minute to spare before showtime. The worst thing about eating just before you sing is the way it tends to repeat on you... (That is why I stipulate that dinner must be an hour before the show.) However, nothing about this show was going according to contract and onto the stage we jumped.
Frantic waving at the sound guy got no response so Andrea put down her guitar and walked to the sound desk and asked him to please un-mute our channels so we could start. We launched into "Walking in memphis" and people looked on appreciatively and smiled and clapped and then... the sound went off. In despair we looked at each other and Andrea put her guitar down again and walked to the sound desk. Then a group of solemn faces walked over to the stage. "You're too loud," he said. I looked at him blankly and said, "How do you expect us to perform if EVERYTHING is off?" At which point I suggested as politely as possible, that he put on a cd of world music and forget the live music. I'm not one to shirk my duty but I know when I'm beat! The decision was unanimous and we packed up our stuff and went and polished off the wine!
Paul wandered over to us eventually and shrugged and sighed and said, "What can you do?" and that was the full extent of his apology. After a bit more sighing, he wandered off. Blank looks once again passed between musician, singer and manager...
Some may wonder why he was required to apologise... well, he was the booking agent. Technically it is their job to make sure the client is well informed about everything to do with the show. The way it turned out, the musicians were made to look like the idiots who hadn't done what we were supposed to do, because we were given the wrong brief. The only ones in the spotlight, were us. There was no explanation given to the rest of the group of people. There was only one man who felt we were too loud. Everyone else was enjoying it but all they saw was us getting chased off the stage! People came to ask us afterwards because no-one understood. One guy said, "We thought you were good, even if some of the others didn't!" It had nothing to do with them not liking us and everything to do with the fact that he couldn't talk to his friends. However, our reputation definitely took a knock last night.
We did everything possible to please everyone there, right down to reworking the entire set list 4 times! But, at the end of the day, the fact is that the entertainment is at the bottom of the food chain. Everyone else was taken care of down to the last detail but no-one had thought to sort out the band properly. And the band took the blame at the end of it all. I had to swallow my pride and realise this was no reflection on me and my professionalism. It WAS a bitter pill to swallow when I realised SoundCru were not actually going to take the blame for it. I was told by the client to be more specific about what I do next time! But I had never dealt with the client until I met them last night, SoundCru had done all the dealings.
If anyone was wondering why I started Mellow Music? THIS is why. I have yet to meet a booking agency that puts their artists before their clients... And that's not good enough for me. The entertainment is the glue that holds a function together and yet they are always an afterthought. No-one remembers the chair covers after a function! They remember that they danced the night away and had a great time. They remember that the music was good, or the comedian was funny, or the dancers were brilliant. Think about how any event would be if there were dead silence throughout. Bit awkward I think...
Music is a language that everyone understands. Not everyone can do it. It's a talent that should be appreciated in any shape or form. We artists just carry on regardless but it's no wonder so many of us eventually succumb and join the 9 to 5 slog. And the greater irony is that many people think that, as an established, award winning musician, I am treated with respect. As you can see, it makes no difference what you've achieved. You may have a masters in music but you are still just part of the hired help. I'm not bitter. All I can do is laugh at the end of the day! That's what we all do.
I won't take it when it comes to my artists though. So here is a plea to all of you to send out the word. Let's make Mellow Music the top booking agency in the country so that our artists can be treated with the respect that they deserve! We have come so far in so many things. Sexism is SO last season, racism is unacceptable.
Don't you think it's time musicism got put firmly in it's place?
www.mellowmusic.co.za
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
The Unglamorous Life of a Supposed Celeb
It never fails to amaze (and, at times, amuse) me when I find out the impression that people have of the life I lead. I guess it's easy to build up a false impression with everything we're confronted with on TV and in magazines. Looking at the life someone like
Madonna for example, leads, I find myself feeling sorry for her a lot of the time because she has it so much worse than I ever will. On a much smaller scale, I can relate to their need for privacy, their need to be seen as real people, their need to be able to live their lives free of being judged at every turn, free to do what they love. It is enlightening to see life from the other side. To borrow a very famous quote, "You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view . . . until you climb into his skin and walk around in it". Up until that point, it is very easy to create your own perception, and be entirely wrong. And everybody is guilty of this at one time or another.
I know very few people who are content with what they have. People always want more. They're always keeping a lookout for better prospects and they always think somebody else has it better than them. After the same token, people often think they can do it better. We are very quick to judge the decision somebody else makes, even about something as trivial as the shoes they are wearing and how they "so don't go with that dress!" (said in pseudo-american accent;) But maybe, just maybe the heel broke off of the shoe she was wearing and she had to borrow from someone at the last minute and that was all they had! Ok, it sounds far-fetched but believe it or not, it's happened to me before, thank goodness, before I became well known! An important point I want to just bring up here is that there is no going back. Once you've climbed inside someone's skin you won't be able to get back out. Even if you you do physically; emotionally and psychologically, it will change you forever. Unless, of course, you're totally devoid of any kind of emotion or possess a "terminator's soul" to quote some of my own song lyrics!
I know, in a way, I am lucky. I've experienced life from both sides of the fence and it's hard now to imagine which one I'd prefer because I'm a different person now, compared to the one I was then. I'm also doing what I love which, in a way, makes up for a lot of the bad points to this
life I am currently inhabiting. I have experienced the hunger and the yearning a singer/songwriter experiences, to have their songs heard. I can't explain it any more than that. It's what has driven me my whole life and it is what drives me still. Anyone who has known me for longer than 6 years, knows how shy I was before my life changed. I was, and still am, a private person. I am definitely still an introvert. I asked myself a million times, why did I put myself through the abject terror of being in front of millions of people and opening myself up to criticism, the likes of which nobody should have to experience? It wasn't to become famous. It was a means to an end for me. I knew if people knew who I was, they'd give my music a chance. At least, that was my hope. It was, therefore, a sacrifice I was willing to make. What I didn't bet on was my own life becoming public property as well.
While I say it over and over, that this is the life I chose and I have to live with it now, I don't think that's entirely true. I don't think I chose this life. I think it chose me. Because it's the only way I can think of to explain why I saw it through, and why I'm still living it! Why would somebody like me put herself through that kind of abuse? And why would I continue to open myself up to it? It's not so bad now of course. I'm not in the spotlight. The new idols will be soon and I wonder if they are even remotely prepared for what they will have to face? But I digress...I crossed over from being an unknown musician, desperately wanting a voice, to a face most of the country recognised, within a few weeks. It took a lot longer to come to terms with it though. Several years actually. But my eyes were opened, almost immediately, as to what life is like on the other side of the fence. I'm not sure if you want me to burst your bubble and tell you...I'm not sure I could because, no matter what I say, it's only words and a part of you will always say, "Yeah right, but I'll handle it differently"... Of course you will! But that doesn't mean you'll handle it better. It'll affect you just as much because we're all human.
Let me give you an example of a weekend in my life: Friday: My manager said there was an afrikaans music festival being put on by Huisgenoot, down in Margate on the beach. He asked them if I could have a spot on the stage but, at this late hour, there was no budget so it would be a free
show... (Let's back up a bit here... being a passionate musician, determined to make it in the industry, involves sacrifices. Money being a big one! Sometimes one has to weigh up the pros and cons. If there's no money, I might get exposure out of it and if there's still none of that, it might be an opportunity to sell cds) So, we decided it might be worth doing it to get a foot in the door with huisgenoot and sell my new afrikaans single. We drove down to Margate. It was a madhouse as you can well imagine! Holidaymakers everywhere. No parking of course. So, in my dress and high heels I toddled and teetered about a kilometre along the beach to get to the stage. It was boiling hot in the sun, which was where the stage was. The audience consisted of very afrikaans people, mostly from the free state. They all looked at me like I was an alien. This happens sometimes at predominantly afrikaans gigs. Hopefully not because of the way I look!! It's just, I am obviously english and they were very obviously not! They just didn't get me or why I was there, even when I sang my afrikaans song.
Having a bad audience is par for the course. I can't please everybody. I've been around long enough to know that. I cut the show short and limped back to the car sweating profusely, having sold very few cds and all I got as a reward was a blister on my big toe! I drove home and got myself ready because, the following day I had to be up at 4:00am... Saturday: I had a show in Pretoria at 3pm so we left at 6am. This happens fairly often. I have to be up about 2 hours before takeoff to do my hair and makeup as I have to sing as soon as we land. In this case we had to drive because we needed our own sound equipment. My manager began developing a migraine so I drove us. (I actually almost always drive because, as a woman, I can multi-task and so I can talk and drive and still keep the car at 120kph, while listening to my ipod as well as eating my lunch/snack/whatever and I have never fallen asleep at the wheel unlike my manager!) He passed out next to me and we got to jhb around 11am. I had a photo shoot in Bedfordview for the sunflower fund, a quick cup of rooibos, and then back on the road to find pretoria north which was another hour and a half's drive.
Let me give you an example of a weekend in my life: Friday: My manager said there was an afrikaans music festival being put on by Huisgenoot, down in Margate on the beach. He asked them if I could have a spot on the stage but, at this late hour, there was no budget so it would be a free
show... (Let's back up a bit here... being a passionate musician, determined to make it in the industry, involves sacrifices. Money being a big one! Sometimes one has to weigh up the pros and cons. If there's no money, I might get exposure out of it and if there's still none of that, it might be an opportunity to sell cds) So, we decided it might be worth doing it to get a foot in the door with huisgenoot and sell my new afrikaans single. We drove down to Margate. It was a madhouse as you can well imagine! Holidaymakers everywhere. No parking of course. So, in my dress and high heels I toddled and teetered about a kilometre along the beach to get to the stage. It was boiling hot in the sun, which was where the stage was. The audience consisted of very afrikaans people, mostly from the free state. They all looked at me like I was an alien. This happens sometimes at predominantly afrikaans gigs. Hopefully not because of the way I look!! It's just, I am obviously english and they were very obviously not! They just didn't get me or why I was there, even when I sang my afrikaans song.
Having a bad audience is par for the course. I can't please everybody. I've been around long enough to know that. I cut the show short and limped back to the car sweating profusely, having sold very few cds and all I got as a reward was a blister on my big toe! I drove home and got myself ready because, the following day I had to be up at 4:00am... Saturday: I had a show in Pretoria at 3pm so we left at 6am. This happens fairly often. I have to be up about 2 hours before takeoff to do my hair and makeup as I have to sing as soon as we land. In this case we had to drive because we needed our own sound equipment. My manager began developing a migraine so I drove us. (I actually almost always drive because, as a woman, I can multi-task and so I can talk and drive and still keep the car at 120kph, while listening to my ipod as well as eating my lunch/snack/whatever and I have never fallen asleep at the wheel unlike my manager!) He passed out next to me and we got to jhb around 11am. I had a photo shoot in Bedfordview for the sunflower fund, a quick cup of rooibos, and then back on the road to find pretoria north which was another hour and a half's drive.
This is the reality. It is not a "glamorous life", it's just "a life". It doesn't make me immune to mistakes, to being human, because I am just human. It doesn't mean everybody automatically loves me, because they certainly don't! It doesn't mean I don't have to work hard, because I do.
It doesn't make the people around me any more different for knowing me, because they are also still the same people they were before they knew me. Just like I'm the same person...Only, I'm more aware of what it feels like to be here now, now that I've climbed inside this skin. It's changed me so that, even if I try to walk away from it, I'll never forget it. Knowledge makes it impossible. But that can't be a bad thing because I am here to learn and to grow and I am certainly doing that. So, as unglamorous as it may all be, I am very lucky to be here because I am still singing my songs and still doing what I love, and that is the biggest thing for me and that makes it worth every sacrifice. I'm living out my dream. And it's only when we give our dreams room to breathe, that we can truly begin to live.
Madonna for example, leads, I find myself feeling sorry for her a lot of the time because she has it so much worse than I ever will. On a much smaller scale, I can relate to their need for privacy, their need to be seen as real people, their need to be able to live their lives free of being judged at every turn, free to do what they love. It is enlightening to see life from the other side. To borrow a very famous quote, "You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view . . . until you climb into his skin and walk around in it". Up until that point, it is very easy to create your own perception, and be entirely wrong. And everybody is guilty of this at one time or another.
I know very few people who are content with what they have. People always want more. They're always keeping a lookout for better prospects and they always think somebody else has it better than them. After the same token, people often think they can do it better. We are very quick to judge the decision somebody else makes, even about something as trivial as the shoes they are wearing and how they "so don't go with that dress!" (said in pseudo-american accent;) But maybe, just maybe the heel broke off of the shoe she was wearing and she had to borrow from someone at the last minute and that was all they had! Ok, it sounds far-fetched but believe it or not, it's happened to me before, thank goodness, before I became well known! An important point I want to just bring up here is that there is no going back. Once you've climbed inside someone's skin you won't be able to get back out. Even if you you do physically; emotionally and psychologically, it will change you forever. Unless, of course, you're totally devoid of any kind of emotion or possess a "terminator's soul" to quote some of my own song lyrics!
I know, in a way, I am lucky. I've experienced life from both sides of the fence and it's hard now to imagine which one I'd prefer because I'm a different person now, compared to the one I was then. I'm also doing what I love which, in a way, makes up for a lot of the bad points to this
life I am currently inhabiting. I have experienced the hunger and the yearning a singer/songwriter experiences, to have their songs heard. I can't explain it any more than that. It's what has driven me my whole life and it is what drives me still. Anyone who has known me for longer than 6 years, knows how shy I was before my life changed. I was, and still am, a private person. I am definitely still an introvert. I asked myself a million times, why did I put myself through the abject terror of being in front of millions of people and opening myself up to criticism, the likes of which nobody should have to experience? It wasn't to become famous. It was a means to an end for me. I knew if people knew who I was, they'd give my music a chance. At least, that was my hope. It was, therefore, a sacrifice I was willing to make. What I didn't bet on was my own life becoming public property as well.
While I say it over and over, that this is the life I chose and I have to live with it now, I don't think that's entirely true. I don't think I chose this life. I think it chose me. Because it's the only way I can think of to explain why I saw it through, and why I'm still living it! Why would somebody like me put herself through that kind of abuse? And why would I continue to open myself up to it? It's not so bad now of course. I'm not in the spotlight. The new idols will be soon and I wonder if they are even remotely prepared for what they will have to face? But I digress...I crossed over from being an unknown musician, desperately wanting a voice, to a face most of the country recognised, within a few weeks. It took a lot longer to come to terms with it though. Several years actually. But my eyes were opened, almost immediately, as to what life is like on the other side of the fence. I'm not sure if you want me to burst your bubble and tell you...I'm not sure I could because, no matter what I say, it's only words and a part of you will always say, "Yeah right, but I'll handle it differently"... Of course you will! But that doesn't mean you'll handle it better. It'll affect you just as much because we're all human.
Let me give you an example of a weekend in my life: Friday: My manager said there was an afrikaans music festival being put on by Huisgenoot, down in Margate on the beach. He asked them if I could have a spot on the stage but, at this late hour, there was no budget so it would be a free
show... (Let's back up a bit here... being a passionate musician, determined to make it in the industry, involves sacrifices. Money being a big one! Sometimes one has to weigh up the pros and cons. If there's no money, I might get exposure out of it and if there's still none of that, it might be an opportunity to sell cds) So, we decided it might be worth doing it to get a foot in the door with huisgenoot and sell my new afrikaans single. We drove down to Margate. It was a madhouse as you can well imagine! Holidaymakers everywhere. No parking of course. So, in my dress and high heels I toddled and teetered about a kilometre along the beach to get to the stage. It was boiling hot in the sun, which was where the stage was. The audience consisted of very afrikaans people, mostly from the free state. They all looked at me like I was an alien. This happens sometimes at predominantly afrikaans gigs. Hopefully not because of the way I look!! It's just, I am obviously english and they were very obviously not! They just didn't get me or why I was there, even when I sang my afrikaans song.
Having a bad audience is par for the course. I can't please everybody. I've been around long enough to know that. I cut the show short and limped back to the car sweating profusely, having sold very few cds and all I got as a reward was a blister on my big toe! I drove home and got myself ready because, the following day I had to be up at 4:00am... Saturday: I had a show in Pretoria at 3pm so we left at 6am. This happens fairly often. I have to be up about 2 hours before takeoff to do my hair and makeup as I have to sing as soon as we land. In this case we had to drive because we needed our own sound equipment. My manager began developing a migraine so I drove us. (I actually almost always drive because, as a woman, I can multi-task and so I can talk and drive and still keep the car at 120kph, while listening to my ipod as well as eating my lunch/snack/whatever and I have never fallen asleep at the wheel unlike my manager!) He passed out next to me and we got to jhb around 11am. I had a photo shoot in Bedfordview for the sunflower fund, a quick cup of rooibos, and then back on the road to find pretoria north which was another hour and a half's drive.
Let me give you an example of a weekend in my life: Friday: My manager said there was an afrikaans music festival being put on by Huisgenoot, down in Margate on the beach. He asked them if I could have a spot on the stage but, at this late hour, there was no budget so it would be a free
show... (Let's back up a bit here... being a passionate musician, determined to make it in the industry, involves sacrifices. Money being a big one! Sometimes one has to weigh up the pros and cons. If there's no money, I might get exposure out of it and if there's still none of that, it might be an opportunity to sell cds) So, we decided it might be worth doing it to get a foot in the door with huisgenoot and sell my new afrikaans single. We drove down to Margate. It was a madhouse as you can well imagine! Holidaymakers everywhere. No parking of course. So, in my dress and high heels I toddled and teetered about a kilometre along the beach to get to the stage. It was boiling hot in the sun, which was where the stage was. The audience consisted of very afrikaans people, mostly from the free state. They all looked at me like I was an alien. This happens sometimes at predominantly afrikaans gigs. Hopefully not because of the way I look!! It's just, I am obviously english and they were very obviously not! They just didn't get me or why I was there, even when I sang my afrikaans song.
Having a bad audience is par for the course. I can't please everybody. I've been around long enough to know that. I cut the show short and limped back to the car sweating profusely, having sold very few cds and all I got as a reward was a blister on my big toe! I drove home and got myself ready because, the following day I had to be up at 4:00am... Saturday: I had a show in Pretoria at 3pm so we left at 6am. This happens fairly often. I have to be up about 2 hours before takeoff to do my hair and makeup as I have to sing as soon as we land. In this case we had to drive because we needed our own sound equipment. My manager began developing a migraine so I drove us. (I actually almost always drive because, as a woman, I can multi-task and so I can talk and drive and still keep the car at 120kph, while listening to my ipod as well as eating my lunch/snack/whatever and I have never fallen asleep at the wheel unlike my manager!) He passed out next to me and we got to jhb around 11am. I had a photo shoot in Bedfordview for the sunflower fund, a quick cup of rooibos, and then back on the road to find pretoria north which was another hour and a half's drive.
This is the reality. It is not a "glamorous life", it's just "a life". It doesn't make me immune to mistakes, to being human, because I am just human. It doesn't mean everybody automatically loves me, because they certainly don't! It doesn't mean I don't have to work hard, because I do.
It doesn't make the people around me any more different for knowing me, because they are also still the same people they were before they knew me. Just like I'm the same person...Only, I'm more aware of what it feels like to be here now, now that I've climbed inside this skin. It's changed me so that, even if I try to walk away from it, I'll never forget it. Knowledge makes it impossible. But that can't be a bad thing because I am here to learn and to grow and I am certainly doing that. So, as unglamorous as it may all be, I am very lucky to be here because I am still singing my songs and still doing what I love, and that is the biggest thing for me and that makes it worth every sacrifice. I'm living out my dream. And it's only when we give our dreams room to breathe, that we can truly begin to live.
Once, we loved.
Every day, I wake up full of good intentions. My mind is busy before my body has had a chance to catch up. I've already planned exactly how it will happen and when and what I'll do and then my body catches up and somehow, between the bedroom and the kitchen, it's convinced my mind that it
simply CAN'T. Before I know it another whole day has passed with me looking through her trying very hard to pretend she isn't even there.
It's not so easy, that big elephant in the room. Picture this, somewhat similar, scenario: You have a friend that you were close to for many years at school. After school, she went to Varsity; you joined a band and tried to start a music career. She got married and thought about having kids, you had one failed relationship after another. You're both living in different worlds and yet you both feel obliged to meet for coffee and talk about inane things because your own, real lives, don't have any bearing on each other. It's an unspoken agreement that you don't EVER talk about the differences, the lack of actual interest in each other lives or the fact that, actually, you'd both rather be getting on with those lives than be sitting there, talking across the surface of them to try and hold on to a friendship that, you're beginning to think, really should've been given a decent burial on the last day of school. If you'd only broach the subject, and take things to a deeper level, you'd realise you both have the same fears and the big elephant in the room becomes a little mouse, or even better, it ceases to breathe altogether.
This is the situation I am in with someone I once loved with all my heart. The once "object of my affection", who always spoke the same language as me, has become a stranger and I can't help wondering if it's my fault or hers. Perhaps it's both of us. You see, one day, she failed me. I
had a story to tell, weighing heavily on my heart and she was the one friend who always listened and always gave me such good advice and I knew, if anyone was going to understand me, she was. Until that day. I poured my heart out, I plucked at her heart strings, then I beat them in anger, then I stroked them coercively, all to no avail. She wouldn't listen. She refused to hear.
Naturally I lost a little faith in her. I punished her for a few days until I thought she'd learned her lesson. Again I sat her down and tried to explain how I was feeling and again she refused to acknowledge it. This time I hardly tried. I merely got up and walked away. There were a few other half-hearted attempts on my part but I always felt like I had to make the first move and she never gave anything back. Our relationship changed levels. We would sit down to talk now and then and all we'd do was rehash old stories, sometimes we'd even discuss other people's stories just in case we dipped below the level we were trying so hard to maintain. Both of us were skimming across the surface of our glass ceiling, neither of us daring to change the pattern we'd inadvertently weaved in case we saw a crack developing. Heaven forbid we should have to deal with that. That would be actually giving a name to the glass ceiling which we had come to covet and protect like a fragile bird's egg. Ironic, really, since it was as thick as the wall of China.
And so the days, weeks, months passed. I'd get up in the morning, walk past her, look right through her and try hard not to reminisce about the days when it was different and every day I'd think, today is the day. And every night I'd get into bed and think, tomorrow is definitely the day.
And yet, this morning I got up and I walked past her again...Except this time I'm allowing myself to dwell on my callous behaviour, and I can feel a strange tingling in my fingers and a tickle in my stomach and I'm definitely a little breathless. I'm not sure what it means. Perhaps I'm
just fooling myself. Maybe when I get up from my computer I'll walk towards her with the intention of something positive, and maybe she'll look at me with a little hope and, perhaps even a little seduction in her demeanour, and I'll imagine I hear a gentle sigh from deep inside the protective covering she's placed around herself, and either it'll draw me in, or scare me off. My fear of her rejection makes me want to keep walking past, but my arms are aching to hold her and my fingers are tingling with need. With a heart heavy with feeling I wonder, which emotion will out itself first?
I'm not sure where we will end up today. I'm not sure if it will happen...All I know is, this morning I woke up thinking "I WILL play my guitar today".
simply CAN'T. Before I know it another whole day has passed with me looking through her trying very hard to pretend she isn't even there.
It's not so easy, that big elephant in the room. Picture this, somewhat similar, scenario: You have a friend that you were close to for many years at school. After school, she went to Varsity; you joined a band and tried to start a music career. She got married and thought about having kids, you had one failed relationship after another. You're both living in different worlds and yet you both feel obliged to meet for coffee and talk about inane things because your own, real lives, don't have any bearing on each other. It's an unspoken agreement that you don't EVER talk about the differences, the lack of actual interest in each other lives or the fact that, actually, you'd both rather be getting on with those lives than be sitting there, talking across the surface of them to try and hold on to a friendship that, you're beginning to think, really should've been given a decent burial on the last day of school. If you'd only broach the subject, and take things to a deeper level, you'd realise you both have the same fears and the big elephant in the room becomes a little mouse, or even better, it ceases to breathe altogether.
This is the situation I am in with someone I once loved with all my heart. The once "object of my affection", who always spoke the same language as me, has become a stranger and I can't help wondering if it's my fault or hers. Perhaps it's both of us. You see, one day, she failed me. I
had a story to tell, weighing heavily on my heart and she was the one friend who always listened and always gave me such good advice and I knew, if anyone was going to understand me, she was. Until that day. I poured my heart out, I plucked at her heart strings, then I beat them in anger, then I stroked them coercively, all to no avail. She wouldn't listen. She refused to hear.
Naturally I lost a little faith in her. I punished her for a few days until I thought she'd learned her lesson. Again I sat her down and tried to explain how I was feeling and again she refused to acknowledge it. This time I hardly tried. I merely got up and walked away. There were a few other half-hearted attempts on my part but I always felt like I had to make the first move and she never gave anything back. Our relationship changed levels. We would sit down to talk now and then and all we'd do was rehash old stories, sometimes we'd even discuss other people's stories just in case we dipped below the level we were trying so hard to maintain. Both of us were skimming across the surface of our glass ceiling, neither of us daring to change the pattern we'd inadvertently weaved in case we saw a crack developing. Heaven forbid we should have to deal with that. That would be actually giving a name to the glass ceiling which we had come to covet and protect like a fragile bird's egg. Ironic, really, since it was as thick as the wall of China.
And so the days, weeks, months passed. I'd get up in the morning, walk past her, look right through her and try hard not to reminisce about the days when it was different and every day I'd think, today is the day. And every night I'd get into bed and think, tomorrow is definitely the day.
And yet, this morning I got up and I walked past her again...Except this time I'm allowing myself to dwell on my callous behaviour, and I can feel a strange tingling in my fingers and a tickle in my stomach and I'm definitely a little breathless. I'm not sure what it means. Perhaps I'm
just fooling myself. Maybe when I get up from my computer I'll walk towards her with the intention of something positive, and maybe she'll look at me with a little hope and, perhaps even a little seduction in her demeanour, and I'll imagine I hear a gentle sigh from deep inside the protective covering she's placed around herself, and either it'll draw me in, or scare me off. My fear of her rejection makes me want to keep walking past, but my arms are aching to hold her and my fingers are tingling with need. With a heart heavy with feeling I wonder, which emotion will out itself first?
I'm not sure where we will end up today. I'm not sure if it will happen...All I know is, this morning I woke up thinking "I WILL play my guitar today".
A Glimpse into the Mind of a Supposed Songwriter
It had been a month since I had had a singing gig. This was due mostly to the fact that, while on my holiday to relax and regroup and get healthy in Cape Town, I fell ill with bronchitis!!! It was the first time I had been sick in about 2 years and it knocked me for a six! I was NOT happy
about the situation at all AND, just to add insult to injury, I also got laryngitis which is every singer's worst nightmare! This is usually about the time that I suddenly feel inspired to write and songs want to burst out of me and I can't sing them! Which means they usually just carry on wandering past and, I should imagine, move on the next lucky songwriter. This last statement may make very little sense to most of you! Allow me to elaborate...
When I get struck with the urge to write, it's NEVER when I expect it, it's NEVER convenient and its NEVER the song I thought I was going to write. When I am sitting behind my guitar, staring down at the scribbles on the page before me, I have NO idea where they came from. I never even knew I had that kind of vocabulary in my head and, for a girl who's never had any formal lessons on a guitar, those chords sure seem to SOUND like they're being played by someone who actually has a clue! So here's what I believe...
I believe that there are millions and millions of songs drifting around in a parallel universe. Where they reside, I am not sure, but they are out there. They already exist. The problem is that there are only certain channels that they can work through to make themselves heard and those
channels are people selected by the songs. That last part is quite important because I would look so odd singing a death metal song! (Although I have written a few rather dark songs in some dark moments but I think that's a whole new article for another day.) The songs choose the people that will do them justice. In other words, that is how I see myself, as a channel for these songs that need to be heard. Perhaps that is the biggest part of the reason I feel embarrassed taking credit for them. At times, I honestly feel like a fraud when someone says to me: "Did you write that song?" and I kind of nod and look away, or say "yes" quietly and change the subject as soon as possible. My manager mistakes it for modesty but he's wrong there. I simply feel like they're not my songs to own. How else can I explain why I don't remember the actual process of writing the song?
The odd thing is that I can relate to them; so well that it actually hurts everytime I sing them and I can only assume that, that particular song knew I needed it to deal with the situation I was going through at the time. It was so in tune with the pain and angst or the passion and happiness I was experiencing at that moment that, out of all the channels, in all the universe, it singled me out and wriggled and squirmed it's way through the portkey (my guitar) to land in my head and be transferred onto the page in front of me. The birth of a new song, for me, is like a cleansing and soothing balm for my soul. As I get up from the chair, an hour or so later, I am slightly dazed and perhaps a tad bewildered, but what stands out most of all is that I am at peace.
Why me? Who knows? I ask myself over and over again and I know that's the wrong approach. One should never question gifts from the universe. One should simply bow one's head in supplication and say a humble thank you to the angels! Perhaps it's my enquiring mind that is at fault here. I simply cannot just accept that something is what it is. I know my life would be far less complicated if I could do that and there would be a lot of far happier people in my inner circle;) Creativity was never kind to a sceptic and, as a practical Virgo, I am probably the biggest sceptic of them all. Perhaps writer's block is a reminder that you should never question all things creative.
The reason I say that is because, now, when I need them the most, the songs have deserted me. My guitar has become my enemy and the songs I took for granted have decided to be someone else's healing balm. Part of me wants to beg and plead with them to return but I know that won't work. You cant force a song. They are kind of shy and and reticent, but incredibly intelligent and perceptive. They won't come until I accept why it is that they left and, knowing the reason doesn't always mean it can be fixed.
So I sit and wait..."the moment will come and slowly take over my mind and the words will find space in a place in my head and slowly slip off my tongue." Looking at those lyrics, I know they are from a song I wrote. That song is a big hit in South Africa...and I still don't feel that I
own it. Perhaps therein lies my problem. Maybe I need to begin to own them, but it feels presumptious somehow. I feel that I could never write something like that on my own. It's far easier to believe that it already existed. Perhaps it's my own lack of faith in myself that has me believing that. You see, as practical as a Virgo is, they are still unbelievably critical of themselves and their abilities which is not very practical!
I believe I will try... because a life without songwriting is a life devoid of feeling. So let me take a moment to thank my angels for all the songs they have been kind enough to bestow on me in the past and all the songs they will bestow on me in the future, because I have to believe that there will be more. I once went through writer's block for about a year and, while I was busy feeling beside myself, a song found me in my despair:
"Staring at the empty pages
Through the bars of noted cages
In your head the cyclone rages
Pick a card and quietly smile
Take a chance and write it down
Once a smile is now a frown
Walk away, the show is over
Time to drift a little slower
Time to let the world go by
Hold it up and let it fly
Time was something never on your side
Time always seemed to have enough for me
Open up the doors and set them free
Fill the lines in every book
Find the words and make the hook
Let it go, Let it go"
My friend jokes with me about how I wrote a song about not being able to write songs! I laugh, but she's right! I AM a songwriter/songchanneler. Why should an artist suddenly be unable to paint? Oh well, as artists, we have a right to our eccentricity and our, sometimes, odd beliefs! And don't forget that artistic temperament!
This practical Virgo will continue to thank her angels and sing "her" songs and live for the music that either resides within her or channels though her. After all, what would I be without it?
about the situation at all AND, just to add insult to injury, I also got laryngitis which is every singer's worst nightmare! This is usually about the time that I suddenly feel inspired to write and songs want to burst out of me and I can't sing them! Which means they usually just carry on wandering past and, I should imagine, move on the next lucky songwriter. This last statement may make very little sense to most of you! Allow me to elaborate...
When I get struck with the urge to write, it's NEVER when I expect it, it's NEVER convenient and its NEVER the song I thought I was going to write. When I am sitting behind my guitar, staring down at the scribbles on the page before me, I have NO idea where they came from. I never even knew I had that kind of vocabulary in my head and, for a girl who's never had any formal lessons on a guitar, those chords sure seem to SOUND like they're being played by someone who actually has a clue! So here's what I believe...
I believe that there are millions and millions of songs drifting around in a parallel universe. Where they reside, I am not sure, but they are out there. They already exist. The problem is that there are only certain channels that they can work through to make themselves heard and those
channels are people selected by the songs. That last part is quite important because I would look so odd singing a death metal song! (Although I have written a few rather dark songs in some dark moments but I think that's a whole new article for another day.) The songs choose the people that will do them justice. In other words, that is how I see myself, as a channel for these songs that need to be heard. Perhaps that is the biggest part of the reason I feel embarrassed taking credit for them. At times, I honestly feel like a fraud when someone says to me: "Did you write that song?" and I kind of nod and look away, or say "yes" quietly and change the subject as soon as possible. My manager mistakes it for modesty but he's wrong there. I simply feel like they're not my songs to own. How else can I explain why I don't remember the actual process of writing the song?
The odd thing is that I can relate to them; so well that it actually hurts everytime I sing them and I can only assume that, that particular song knew I needed it to deal with the situation I was going through at the time. It was so in tune with the pain and angst or the passion and happiness I was experiencing at that moment that, out of all the channels, in all the universe, it singled me out and wriggled and squirmed it's way through the portkey (my guitar) to land in my head and be transferred onto the page in front of me. The birth of a new song, for me, is like a cleansing and soothing balm for my soul. As I get up from the chair, an hour or so later, I am slightly dazed and perhaps a tad bewildered, but what stands out most of all is that I am at peace.
Why me? Who knows? I ask myself over and over again and I know that's the wrong approach. One should never question gifts from the universe. One should simply bow one's head in supplication and say a humble thank you to the angels! Perhaps it's my enquiring mind that is at fault here. I simply cannot just accept that something is what it is. I know my life would be far less complicated if I could do that and there would be a lot of far happier people in my inner circle;) Creativity was never kind to a sceptic and, as a practical Virgo, I am probably the biggest sceptic of them all. Perhaps writer's block is a reminder that you should never question all things creative.
The reason I say that is because, now, when I need them the most, the songs have deserted me. My guitar has become my enemy and the songs I took for granted have decided to be someone else's healing balm. Part of me wants to beg and plead with them to return but I know that won't work. You cant force a song. They are kind of shy and and reticent, but incredibly intelligent and perceptive. They won't come until I accept why it is that they left and, knowing the reason doesn't always mean it can be fixed.
So I sit and wait..."the moment will come and slowly take over my mind and the words will find space in a place in my head and slowly slip off my tongue." Looking at those lyrics, I know they are from a song I wrote. That song is a big hit in South Africa...and I still don't feel that I
own it. Perhaps therein lies my problem. Maybe I need to begin to own them, but it feels presumptious somehow. I feel that I could never write something like that on my own. It's far easier to believe that it already existed. Perhaps it's my own lack of faith in myself that has me believing that. You see, as practical as a Virgo is, they are still unbelievably critical of themselves and their abilities which is not very practical!
I believe I will try... because a life without songwriting is a life devoid of feeling. So let me take a moment to thank my angels for all the songs they have been kind enough to bestow on me in the past and all the songs they will bestow on me in the future, because I have to believe that there will be more. I once went through writer's block for about a year and, while I was busy feeling beside myself, a song found me in my despair:
"Staring at the empty pages
Through the bars of noted cages
In your head the cyclone rages
Pick a card and quietly smile
Take a chance and write it down
Once a smile is now a frown
Walk away, the show is over
Time to drift a little slower
Time to let the world go by
Hold it up and let it fly
Time was something never on your side
Time always seemed to have enough for me
Open up the doors and set them free
Fill the lines in every book
Find the words and make the hook
Let it go, Let it go"
My friend jokes with me about how I wrote a song about not being able to write songs! I laugh, but she's right! I AM a songwriter/songchanneler. Why should an artist suddenly be unable to paint? Oh well, as artists, we have a right to our eccentricity and our, sometimes, odd beliefs! And don't forget that artistic temperament!
This practical Virgo will continue to thank her angels and sing "her" songs and live for the music that either resides within her or channels though her. After all, what would I be without it?
Walking the tightrope
I am just one person... One person with a million thoughts...But I have only one dream. At least it started as a dream, briefly became a reality, as if to tease me, and then once again became a dream. It will probably always be this way. Most times I'm sure it's still what I want to do with my life. When I was younger I was never more sure about anything than the fact that I wanted to sing my songs. When you're young you don't think about practicalities. I didn't say to myself, "I want to make a living with my music." I merely said,"I want to sing my songs." The dreamer in me thought that that would feed me somehow. I think it was that attitude that got me to where I am though. If I think about it, when it came to music, I never thought twice, I just said yes, and the universe heard me. There was nothing calculating about it, no ulterior motives, no thoughts of whether or not it'd make me famous, put food on my table, pay my bills... It was just an inherent love for music and it was enough for me.
It was one of those times, that I said yes without thought or hesitation, that everything changed. Now, 6 years after the fact, singing is no longer enough for me. Reality snuck in. The dream got lost in a myriad of things like marketing and politics and radio friendly hooks. I am one of millions of dreamers who all have the same dream and guess what I discovered? A dream DOESN'T sustain you. When you realise that, and it becomes about compromising your dream and your passion in order to pay your bills, you find yourself on a tightrope, teetering this way and that, trying to maintain the balance between survival and sanity, without falling. It's very hard to follow the path that destiny obligingly laid out in front of you, back in the days when dreaming was enough. Especially when you have to keep denying Destiny in order to feed yourself. While you are selling your soul to make money, Destiny is tapping her fingers impatiently on the sidelines and you know she won't wait forever but a fear of losing your grip prevents you from giving in to her. And it's not even just about sustenance anymore. It's about getting yourself out there so people don't lose you in the millions of other desperate hopefuls trying to reach that pinnacle, the holy of holies, that place of all places with the signpost that reads, "You have arrived." (cue the choir of angels singing triumphantly) But that place is rather elusive I've realised. It's the mirage in the desert of the music industry.
The reason for that, I think, is because such a place doesn't actually exist. Not for a lot of artists. They will never arrive because there will always be one more level to climb, one more song to be written, one more show that will outshine them all. It will never be good enough and most will go to their graves still having felt that they're not finished. The well of creativity doesn't dry up. It is continuously filling itself. If an artist wants to find peace, it will only be as fleeting as the length of time they spend drawing from the well. The peace is in the process of creating. The rest of the life of the song is spent endlessly trying to capture that feeling until realisation dawns that it is gone. No matter that the song touched millions of lives. The artist has already moved on to the next creation because she has no choice but to keep striving for that feeling. We never really "arrive".
I was reading "The witch of Portobello" by Paulo Coelho recently and it seems so simple. Just go where you need to go. Be who you need to be. You will survive as long as you are doing what you are meant to be doing and, with love. It's hard to just let go and let Destiny have her way. It wasn't, 15 years ago. It is now. With knowledge comes fear. How do you take the plunge and allow yourself to fall off that tightrope, trusting that there is something waiting to cushion you? You won't know until you try, it's true. But the "what ifs" can be intimidating.
I can hear Destiny's eyeballs roll up and hit the ceiling with a resounding thud...I know she doesn't get my confusion. She still sees me as she always has, a passionate songwriter with stories to tell to anyone who will listen. So it's just me who has changed then. Am I entirely to blame for that? I guess I am. Nobody has the power to change me without me choosing to allow them. I know that. I forgot how to listen and I can no longer hear what I need to hear.
Ok, admitting this is a start, is it not? I guess I'll have to take it one step at a time. The well hasn't dried up. It's forever filling up. That means there's hope for me yet. It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be me and that's good enough. At least, she seems to think so. Ok then...
I step out onto the rope... For a few seconds I sway this way and that way and then, holding my breath.
I fall.
It was one of those times, that I said yes without thought or hesitation, that everything changed. Now, 6 years after the fact, singing is no longer enough for me. Reality snuck in. The dream got lost in a myriad of things like marketing and politics and radio friendly hooks. I am one of millions of dreamers who all have the same dream and guess what I discovered? A dream DOESN'T sustain you. When you realise that, and it becomes about compromising your dream and your passion in order to pay your bills, you find yourself on a tightrope, teetering this way and that, trying to maintain the balance between survival and sanity, without falling. It's very hard to follow the path that destiny obligingly laid out in front of you, back in the days when dreaming was enough. Especially when you have to keep denying Destiny in order to feed yourself. While you are selling your soul to make money, Destiny is tapping her fingers impatiently on the sidelines and you know she won't wait forever but a fear of losing your grip prevents you from giving in to her. And it's not even just about sustenance anymore. It's about getting yourself out there so people don't lose you in the millions of other desperate hopefuls trying to reach that pinnacle, the holy of holies, that place of all places with the signpost that reads, "You have arrived." (cue the choir of angels singing triumphantly) But that place is rather elusive I've realised. It's the mirage in the desert of the music industry.
The reason for that, I think, is because such a place doesn't actually exist. Not for a lot of artists. They will never arrive because there will always be one more level to climb, one more song to be written, one more show that will outshine them all. It will never be good enough and most will go to their graves still having felt that they're not finished. The well of creativity doesn't dry up. It is continuously filling itself. If an artist wants to find peace, it will only be as fleeting as the length of time they spend drawing from the well. The peace is in the process of creating. The rest of the life of the song is spent endlessly trying to capture that feeling until realisation dawns that it is gone. No matter that the song touched millions of lives. The artist has already moved on to the next creation because she has no choice but to keep striving for that feeling. We never really "arrive".
I was reading "The witch of Portobello" by Paulo Coelho recently and it seems so simple. Just go where you need to go. Be who you need to be. You will survive as long as you are doing what you are meant to be doing and, with love. It's hard to just let go and let Destiny have her way. It wasn't, 15 years ago. It is now. With knowledge comes fear. How do you take the plunge and allow yourself to fall off that tightrope, trusting that there is something waiting to cushion you? You won't know until you try, it's true. But the "what ifs" can be intimidating.
I can hear Destiny's eyeballs roll up and hit the ceiling with a resounding thud...I know she doesn't get my confusion. She still sees me as she always has, a passionate songwriter with stories to tell to anyone who will listen. So it's just me who has changed then. Am I entirely to blame for that? I guess I am. Nobody has the power to change me without me choosing to allow them. I know that. I forgot how to listen and I can no longer hear what I need to hear.
Ok, admitting this is a start, is it not? I guess I'll have to take it one step at a time. The well hasn't dried up. It's forever filling up. That means there's hope for me yet. It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be me and that's good enough. At least, she seems to think so. Ok then...
I step out onto the rope... For a few seconds I sway this way and that way and then, holding my breath.
I fall.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Designer Musicians
Why is it so hard for South Africans to imagine a South African artist on the same level as an international artist? And why are they only credible in their own country once they've made it internationally? This seems to be the attitude of a lot of South Africans and, while it is slowly changing, there is a long way to go and a lot of frustrated artists are having to give up on their dream while people slowly make up their minds. They rely on fans to keep their dreams alive and I believe it's largely due to complacency among the fans, that artists are not succeeding. It is certainly not due to a lack of passion among the artists themselves.
South African musicians are among the hardest workers in the world. Take, for example, THIS well known SA musician: A typical weekend in her life includes the following: Friday night she will have a gig. She will supply the sound system, which means she has to load her car with it, drive to the venue, set it up and soundcheck, and then perform for 4 hours. At midnight she will pack up the sound system, get back in her car and drive home. The following morning she will be up at 5am to prepare for her first gig of the day at 7.30am. She again has to set up her own sound and performs for about 3 or 4 hours, then she will pack up the sound system and drive to her next gig. This process is generally repeated 3 times on a Saturday. Sunday involves another 3 and her day starts at 5am again. Let's not forget that a musician has to look ready for the stage as well so hair and makeup and outfits must be sorted, and in place, before leaving for the gig. That means preparation usually begins about 3 hours before it's time to leave for the gig.
To most people this may sound relatively easy, although I'm not sure how the word "easy" could fit into that schedule because I have left a few points out. For example, during those 4 hours of her show, she will be playing anywhere from 3 to 8 instruments while she is adding backing vocals to the show AND operating the sound desk which is conveniently placed behind her on stage. She will also have to dance, smile and ENTERTAIN the audience so that they don't feel neglected by her. (Oddly enough, when a background musician is playing, people ignore them. However, if they should STOP playing for any reason, they will suddenly notice and complain about it!) I don't think anyone, who isn't a musician, can fully understand how exhausting it is to give of your best musically, physically and emotionally, during a show. Try holding a smile in place for 4 hours! The smile doesn't leave when you take a break from the stage. A musician will still have to maintain the smile while an audience member tries to jump onstage and sing into the microphone, or drunkenly tries to grab them to dance, or persistently requests Hotel California when the musician is obviously performing their original songs and NOT cover songs. She will often not get fed for those 4 hours and she will have to pay for her own drinks, including water. The smile still stays in place while she packs away her sound system and carries 15kg speakers to her car while everyone sits around watching her. She gets no days off, because if she's not gigging, she's rehearsing for gigs, and if she's not rehearsing, she's teaching music, and if she's not teaching, she's catching up on admin or meeting prospective clients. Her hours start at between 4 or 5am and end around 2am if she's lucky.
Don't get me wrong. We love what we do and that's why we do it. But there comes a point in every musician's career where they have to ask themselves why? We've all asked that question. Why are we breaking our backs for very little appreciation? Did I mention that this musician has several albums behind her name? She has directed and produced a lot of the shows that you have paid good money to go and watch. And yet the only names in lights are a select few who had enough money behind them to market their product and actually put on the show. Why are there so few of them when South Africa is literally bursting at the seams with talent?
How many of you have joined an artist's Facebook fan page? How many of those fan pages belong to South African artists? If you can say several, good for you! Now, how many of the gigs have you supported, that that artist has advertised on Facebook? Facebook has been a saving grace for so many bands and musicians who ordinarily would have had no marketing means at their disposal. There is very seldom a budget for that. The problem is that Facebook is an ONLINE community and it appears that many people who support a musician online, seldom support them in real life. Without that support, it is almost impossible to put on a show. No venues will pay a guaranteed fee to an artist. The artist must rely on a certain percentage of the door fee. It's not too difficult to work out the earnings of any artist, based on the venue and ticket price. If a venue seats 60 people, and the tickets are R50 each, that is a door taking of R3000 (if all tickets are sold) 70% of that is R2100. Take off the sound hire for a show, let's be optimistic and make that R1200. You are left with R900. If you do the show with a band, each member will demand a minimum fee of R1000. Even with one extra musician, you will not break even.
Once you do the math, it isn't worth their while to do shows unless you are guaranteed of a sell out. And there are no guarantees. Is it any wonder that even artists with big names in the industry are forced to supplement their income some other way? Or even worse, to just give up. I could take it even further. A minimum price to record an album might be R30 000, if you're lucky. After that, a photo shoot must be done for the album cover, the cover needs designing, it needs to be printed and only then can you start selling it. But, if you aren't signed to a distributor, you can only really sell your albums at gigs and that brings us full circle to the previous paragraph! Factor in that South African music is at the bottom of a music buyer's list unless your music is kwaito or afrikaans. It doesn't look promising for SA musicians, judging from this post...
But...
It can be. And the power is in your hands. The majority of people who walk out of a live show say, "I had no idea they were so good. I'm so glad I came. I'm definitely going to support them from now on." All it takes is that one step. GO to one show. If it's not your flavour, at least you know. But chances are good that you will thoroughly enjoy it and you will leave feeling far more motivated to go to the next show, and the next show, because you KNOW it's a guaranteed winner and you know you will leave feeling good. The added advantage is that the artists and musicians will feel good because they were supported AND they made enough money to cover their costs and pay some bills. There is nothing like a sense of achievement to buoy your spirits and push you harder to succeed!
The bottom line, is without fans and supporters, musicans have nothing. We can't sing to our lounge walls forever! It's the high from being onstage that we crave. The energy from an audience is what keeps us going. We have stories to tell and we have a burning desire to tell them. And it's people in seats that make it financially worthwhile for us. What good is a show, without an audience?
Next time you receive an invite to a live music show, take a chance and go. Don't just click on "maybe attending" and then forget about it. That artist is watching the amount of guests attending or "maybe attending", sitting on the edge of their seats, wondering if they will have to cancel the show, or if those making promises will actually deliver on them. Make music a priority in your life. It's easy to do that when you try and imagine your life without it! Sure, maybe you'd rather go and see Pink when she's here. Who wouldn't? But the reality is that will happen once every few years, besides the fact that it will cost you a fortune. While you're waiting for Pink, why not spend R50 or R70 here and there and support an artist right on your doorstep that you've always admired but never seen live? Musicians lives are loaded with empty promises. We become so accustomed to smiling and saying thank you, knowing it probably won't materialise. Surprise us by following through. You'll be overwhelmed by the gratitude you receive.
Everytime an artist performs live, they are offering a piece of their heart and soul to you. It takes a brave person to sing about their innermost thoughts, especially if they are not convinced that you really want to listen, and believe me when I tell you that, even the most successful artist will always need convincing now and then. You may be paying to hear their stories, but the gift they are giving you in return is something irreplaceable and incomparable because it is entirely unique. It's the same reason you would buy designer clothes and we seldom think twice before spending THAT money.
Looking at it from that viewpoint, maybe it's time to find your own designer musician?
South African musicians are among the hardest workers in the world. Take, for example, THIS well known SA musician: A typical weekend in her life includes the following: Friday night she will have a gig. She will supply the sound system, which means she has to load her car with it, drive to the venue, set it up and soundcheck, and then perform for 4 hours. At midnight she will pack up the sound system, get back in her car and drive home. The following morning she will be up at 5am to prepare for her first gig of the day at 7.30am. She again has to set up her own sound and performs for about 3 or 4 hours, then she will pack up the sound system and drive to her next gig. This process is generally repeated 3 times on a Saturday. Sunday involves another 3 and her day starts at 5am again. Let's not forget that a musician has to look ready for the stage as well so hair and makeup and outfits must be sorted, and in place, before leaving for the gig. That means preparation usually begins about 3 hours before it's time to leave for the gig.
To most people this may sound relatively easy, although I'm not sure how the word "easy" could fit into that schedule because I have left a few points out. For example, during those 4 hours of her show, she will be playing anywhere from 3 to 8 instruments while she is adding backing vocals to the show AND operating the sound desk which is conveniently placed behind her on stage. She will also have to dance, smile and ENTERTAIN the audience so that they don't feel neglected by her. (Oddly enough, when a background musician is playing, people ignore them. However, if they should STOP playing for any reason, they will suddenly notice and complain about it!) I don't think anyone, who isn't a musician, can fully understand how exhausting it is to give of your best musically, physically and emotionally, during a show. Try holding a smile in place for 4 hours! The smile doesn't leave when you take a break from the stage. A musician will still have to maintain the smile while an audience member tries to jump onstage and sing into the microphone, or drunkenly tries to grab them to dance, or persistently requests Hotel California when the musician is obviously performing their original songs and NOT cover songs. She will often not get fed for those 4 hours and she will have to pay for her own drinks, including water. The smile still stays in place while she packs away her sound system and carries 15kg speakers to her car while everyone sits around watching her. She gets no days off, because if she's not gigging, she's rehearsing for gigs, and if she's not rehearsing, she's teaching music, and if she's not teaching, she's catching up on admin or meeting prospective clients. Her hours start at between 4 or 5am and end around 2am if she's lucky.
Don't get me wrong. We love what we do and that's why we do it. But there comes a point in every musician's career where they have to ask themselves why? We've all asked that question. Why are we breaking our backs for very little appreciation? Did I mention that this musician has several albums behind her name? She has directed and produced a lot of the shows that you have paid good money to go and watch. And yet the only names in lights are a select few who had enough money behind them to market their product and actually put on the show. Why are there so few of them when South Africa is literally bursting at the seams with talent?
How many of you have joined an artist's Facebook fan page? How many of those fan pages belong to South African artists? If you can say several, good for you! Now, how many of the gigs have you supported, that that artist has advertised on Facebook? Facebook has been a saving grace for so many bands and musicians who ordinarily would have had no marketing means at their disposal. There is very seldom a budget for that. The problem is that Facebook is an ONLINE community and it appears that many people who support a musician online, seldom support them in real life. Without that support, it is almost impossible to put on a show. No venues will pay a guaranteed fee to an artist. The artist must rely on a certain percentage of the door fee. It's not too difficult to work out the earnings of any artist, based on the venue and ticket price. If a venue seats 60 people, and the tickets are R50 each, that is a door taking of R3000 (if all tickets are sold) 70% of that is R2100. Take off the sound hire for a show, let's be optimistic and make that R1200. You are left with R900. If you do the show with a band, each member will demand a minimum fee of R1000. Even with one extra musician, you will not break even.
Once you do the math, it isn't worth their while to do shows unless you are guaranteed of a sell out. And there are no guarantees. Is it any wonder that even artists with big names in the industry are forced to supplement their income some other way? Or even worse, to just give up. I could take it even further. A minimum price to record an album might be R30 000, if you're lucky. After that, a photo shoot must be done for the album cover, the cover needs designing, it needs to be printed and only then can you start selling it. But, if you aren't signed to a distributor, you can only really sell your albums at gigs and that brings us full circle to the previous paragraph! Factor in that South African music is at the bottom of a music buyer's list unless your music is kwaito or afrikaans. It doesn't look promising for SA musicians, judging from this post...
But...
It can be. And the power is in your hands. The majority of people who walk out of a live show say, "I had no idea they were so good. I'm so glad I came. I'm definitely going to support them from now on." All it takes is that one step. GO to one show. If it's not your flavour, at least you know. But chances are good that you will thoroughly enjoy it and you will leave feeling far more motivated to go to the next show, and the next show, because you KNOW it's a guaranteed winner and you know you will leave feeling good. The added advantage is that the artists and musicians will feel good because they were supported AND they made enough money to cover their costs and pay some bills. There is nothing like a sense of achievement to buoy your spirits and push you harder to succeed!
The bottom line, is without fans and supporters, musicans have nothing. We can't sing to our lounge walls forever! It's the high from being onstage that we crave. The energy from an audience is what keeps us going. We have stories to tell and we have a burning desire to tell them. And it's people in seats that make it financially worthwhile for us. What good is a show, without an audience?
Next time you receive an invite to a live music show, take a chance and go. Don't just click on "maybe attending" and then forget about it. That artist is watching the amount of guests attending or "maybe attending", sitting on the edge of their seats, wondering if they will have to cancel the show, or if those making promises will actually deliver on them. Make music a priority in your life. It's easy to do that when you try and imagine your life without it! Sure, maybe you'd rather go and see Pink when she's here. Who wouldn't? But the reality is that will happen once every few years, besides the fact that it will cost you a fortune. While you're waiting for Pink, why not spend R50 or R70 here and there and support an artist right on your doorstep that you've always admired but never seen live? Musicians lives are loaded with empty promises. We become so accustomed to smiling and saying thank you, knowing it probably won't materialise. Surprise us by following through. You'll be overwhelmed by the gratitude you receive.
Everytime an artist performs live, they are offering a piece of their heart and soul to you. It takes a brave person to sing about their innermost thoughts, especially if they are not convinced that you really want to listen, and believe me when I tell you that, even the most successful artist will always need convincing now and then. You may be paying to hear their stories, but the gift they are giving you in return is something irreplaceable and incomparable because it is entirely unique. It's the same reason you would buy designer clothes and we seldom think twice before spending THAT money.
Looking at it from that viewpoint, maybe it's time to find your own designer musician?
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