I miss those blocks.

After a few blissful months of feasting on almost too much musical work, I now find myself in the inevitable period of famine.  I’m used to this ebb and flow of my artistic life, but I willingly admit, I don’t love the famine bit.  Usually during this period, I start creating whatever is to come next.  Now, though, I find myself staring at the proverbial blank page, and I just can’t seem to get going.   I’m… blocked.

Grown-up blocks aren’t nearly as much fun as those kid blocks were.  They’re frustratingly intangible.  They seem to build themselves up when you’re not paying attention.   One day, you’re strolling through your life, feeling pretty good about things, and then blam!  You walk right into a wall.  Just like that, you’re lost in a veritable forest of obstacles.  And, as if merely being lost isn’t bad enough, you realize you’re lost inside a world that you built… without even knowing it!  You think to yourself, “Hmmm… this looks strangely familiar,” and yet you have absolutely no clue how to find your way.  Map, anyone?  No?  *Sigh*

When I lose myself in one of  these self-created maze worlds, I spend a few-too-many days feeling down in the dumps.  I feel hopeless and helpless, despite knowing better.  I cry.  Every doubt and fear I have about myself and how I’m living my life rears its ugly head and roars a deafening roar.  In trying to find a way out or a way through, I analyze everything… every sight, every sound, every interaction, every thought.  I over-think every single morsel to such a degree that my brain crashes.

Reboot.

Today, I realize that I can’t fight who or where I am.  Nor should I.  Who I am now, and who I am to become, is the sum of everything I’ve experienced right up to this moment.  If I try to short-cut this process, I short-change myself.  So, tomorrow I will begin picking up blocks and placing them on the wall that stands in my way.  I will reconnect with how much I love those shapes and colors, the feel of the smooth, painted wood in my hand, and the limitless number of things I can create with them.   Before long, I’ll have built that wall up so high that those blocks will come tumbling down to the floor.   Oh!  What a lovely sound that will be!

**************
Songs of the Day:
Child In Me Again – Annie Dinerman
Pick Yourself Up - Dorothy Fields & Jerome Kern

I was born in 1967,  amidst a time of great turmoil in our country.  And, since I’m going to be drawing parallels here, I might as well point out the irony that, as I do, I was born after a huge winter storm, rivaling the one we just had.  I don’t remember that storm, or much about the time in which I was born, but I’ve learned, and I’m living now.

While the reasons that led to the turmoil of the 60′s and early 70′s are very different from today, the toll that current events have taken on our national psyche is huge, and much like that of the 60′s.   Now, as then, seemingly unthinkable events have stunned us.  Now, as then, people feel threatened and fearful.  Now, as then, the public has great mistrust in our government.  Now, as then, the actively protesting minority has the loudest voice, the most visibility, and the same potential for disheartening the more silent majority.  Now, as then, people are feeling much less hopeful about their future.

While protest rallies and marches aren’t as common today as they were in the 60′s, they are more common now than they have been at any other time in my life.  The polarization we are experiencing now, personally and publicly, is the most extreme it has been in my memory.  The wars in Iraq and, especially, Afghanistan, feel politically similar to that of Vietnam.  In many ways, history is repeating itself.   Except…

Where have all the storytellers gone?

Where are the singer-songwriters — the Bob Dylans, John Lennons, Joan Baez’s, Leonard Cohens, Arlo Guthries, and Pete Seegers — telling the stories of our time?  I know we have LOTS of great singer-songwriters today, many of whom I love.  But I’m talking about the “protest song” singer-songwriter.  The songwriters focused on the political/cultural climate of now.

Do they not exist at all?  Do they exist in the way ‘cabaret’ songwriters exist; so far outside main stream popular music culture that no one hears their music unless they seek it out?  Am I simply completely out of touch and off the mark here?  Is no one bothering, because all those songs have been written… back in the 60′s?   Have we become so worried about being PC that those who might have ventured into that kind of songwriting are now afraid to do so?  Is today’s public so without accurate knowledge of current events that there’s no audience for such music?  Are those who are truly in touch with current events so overwhelmed that listening to music connected with those events is just too much?

I honestly have no idea.

What I do know is that now, as always, good songs have the ability to make us think, gently open our minds to different points of view, give us release, join us together, and lift us up.  And I’m missing those storytellers now.  I’m wishing for singer-songwriters to emerge from the chaos of our time and be a voice for us… and for their songs to become a record (no pun intended) of our time… so that in another 50 years, our stories can be told by the singers of tomorrow.

**************
Songs of the Day:
Where Have All The Flowers Gone – Bob Dylan
Turn Turn Turn – Pete Seeger

Perfection is “freedom from fault or defect.”

Where exactly is the fun in that?

Some weeks ago, I went to see a cabaret show.  The singer had a beautiful voice and was technically excellent.  The show was prepared and scripted to the nth degree.  Every look, gesture, breath, phrase, note, vowel, and consonant seemed as though it had been practiced.  It was über controlled and, in its technical delivery at least, without fault or defect.   Yet it was one of the most imperfect shows I’ve ever seen.  It was often dull and lifeless.  There wasn’t a single spontaneous moment.  And, although I believe the singer was sincere, I wasn’t moved by a single song or story.  The edges were so smooth and polished that there was nothing for me to hold onto.

Andrea Marcovicci instructs her cabaret pupils to “embrace distraction.”  I love this.  The freedom to embrace distraction is one of the reasons I was drawn away from theatre and into this wonderful world of cabaret.  I love the freedom of singing the music I want to sing, telling the stories I choose to tell, exploring topics of interest to me, creating programming that is unique to me, and putting all of these elements in front of an audience without the boundaries that theatre requires.  Most of all, I love being me on stage, interacting with the audience as myself.   To me, the best moments in a performance are often the surprises… the unscripted distractions that come from this freedom:  talking with the audience (not just to them); acknowledging an error or ungraceful move; and reacting in the moment to whatever is happening right now.  There’s no character to break, no rigid script from which to deviate.  It all… just… is.

And it’s perfect.  With all its flaws and defects, it’s perfect.

So maybe we need a new definition for perfection, or a new word altogether.  Maybe perfection should be defined as that which “meets the needs and desires of all involved” or (not to get too Eckhart Tolle on you) that which “comes as close to being right for right now as humanly possible.”   Humanly is the key word here I think because, to me, in my emotional world, perfection always includes getting to the heart of the matter.

If we, and everything we did, were perfect, we would not be human.  It’s funny to me that perfection is always the goal… that perfection is ever the goal… and even funnier to me that so many people in my life think I strive for it.  We learn so much from imperfection, from mistakes, from failure.  Think Post-It Notes.  The guy who invented them was trying to make a glue… and failed… or something to that effect.  How perfect was that failure?  I can’t even remember life before Post-It Notes.  Post-It Notes rule!

And those performance moments that most endear us to an audience?  Yep… you guessed it… the “imperfect”, spontaneous ones.  We need to whole-heartedly embrace so-called imperfection as enthusiastically as Andrea embraces distraction… and then say ‘thank you’ for how perfect a situation we find ourselves in… right now.

Let’s practice.

Our dishwasher has not worked properly since the day we got it.  Sometimes, for reasons unknown to man or beast, it randomly decides not to release the soap to wash the dishes.  The powdered detergent ends up as a soap brick, cemented firmly into the compartment that refused release it.  Whatever dirt didn’t get rinsed off during the wash cycle is now, thanks to the heated dry cycle, baked firmly onto the dishes.  It’s annoying.  But it is absolute and undeniable perfection that I have a dishwasher and do not, for the most part, ever have to wash dishes by hand.

Our master bathroom shower is the absolute coldest place in our home.  Some genius, for reasons unknown to man or beast, decided that the outside walls surrounding said shower didn’t require insulation.  Getting into that stall first thing on a winter morning gives new meaning to the term “nipply” and, according to my husband, will make even the bravest testicles run and hide.  To add insult to… well… insult, the water takes forever to get hot.  All in all, not what one might call ideal (though it does wake you up!).  But it is absolute and undeniable perfection that we can take a shower whenever we wish, and even more perfect that we can simply turn a knob and have water whenever we want, wherever we want, for whatever we want.

On December 8th, my mom had a stroke.  Up to this point, my parents (both in their late 70′s) had experienced no major health problems.  They have always taken care of themselves, and they have remained active (mentally and physically) and engaged in life post retirement.   So this event was completely unexpected.  Mom was lucky though.  The stroke only affected the motor function in her right arm and leg.  Her speech and cognitive functions were unaffected.  She had 2 weeks of intensive in-patient rehab and got home on December 22nd.  Her handwriting is not the gorgeous font-like handwriting (see? I come by it honestly) she had pre-stroke, but it’s legible.  She needs a walker now, but she did learn to walk again.

On Christmas Eve, she and my dad joined us at our home for dinner.

And it was perfect.

Wishing you a perfectly safe, healthy, and happy New Year.  See you in 2011!

**************
Songs of the Day:
The Greatest – Kenny Rogers (written by Don Schlitz)
Perfect – Ann Hampton Callaway

I love the sound of an orchestra warming up and tuning right before a performance begins.  I love the way the cacophony — open strings, winds, brass, and percussion all playing random bits of music — suddenly morphs into a single concert “A”.   House lights dim.   A collective holding of breath and then… release.

I especially love it if all this happens while I’m standing back stage waiting… anticipating… enjoying a private adrenaline high.

Live performance is such a wicked and wonderful beast.  No matter how well rehearsed you are, or how deeply you connect with your material, you never really know what a given performance holds in store for you.   It can be magical or torturous or anything in between… all in the course of a single evening.  What ‘works’ one night may fall flat the next.  That intangible energy that flows between audience and performer, the most variable of variables, is everything… and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

By some bizarre stroke of fate, I find myself with three brand new shows opening within four weekends of one another, in addition to two other gigs… one of which involves me presenting an award to the great Andrea Marcovicci, one of my heroes.   My brain is ready to explode it’s so jammed with lyrics and melodies and patter and emotion and details.  But my heart… my heart is, simply, full.

On October 23rd I will debut my new solo show, Hollywood & Broadway, A Fine Romance.  On November 6th and 13th, respectively, my non-profit organization, Acts Of Kindness Cabaret, debuts two new benefit cabaret shows, Life… Sunny Side Up and All Creatures, Great and Small.

As nutty as things are now, I love the anticipation.  Will my new show ‘land’ well?  Will the pacing work?  Did I do enough publicity?  Will people show up?  Will they laugh and cry in all the ‘right’ spots?  Will they like it?  Will they like me?  I have no idea.  I have no control over any of it.

What I know for sure is that I believe in the show I’ve put together over these last many months.  What I know for sure is that this opening night, like all others, will be as much about learning as it will be about the show’s debut.  What I know for sure is that, as it is live performance, it will forever be a work in progress.  What I know for sure is that the music is great and the story is great, and I really can’t ask for much more than that.   What I know for sure is that I got a killer dress (for only $24!) that makes me feel like a million bucks.

So here I am, standing back stage.  The cacophony – open strings, winds, brass, and percussion all playing random bits of music — will soon morph into a single concert “A”.   House lights are dimming.   And… go!

**************
Songs of the Day:
You There in the Back Row – Cy Coleman & Barbara Fried
The Artist at 40 – John Bucchino

Really?  I’m not so sure.

Recently, after a mind-boggling amount of searching, I finally found a suitable name for my new solo show.  The show debuts on October 23rd, so I was getting nervous that I hadn’t yet found one.  Now that I have, the whole endeavor feels more solid… more real.  It has a new momentum, and I’m feeling excited about it.  So, maybe that’s what’s in a name: a kind of reality… a kind of life.  

Tricky thing, choosing a name.  Interesting that it could make such a big difference in how I feel about something.  Is it the meaning of the name?  My own name means ‘cheerful’ or ‘hilarious’, my middle name means ‘one who walks with grace and beauty’, and my last name means ‘man of the field.’   So I’m a  ’hilarious man of the field who walks with grace and beauty.’  Uh…. no.

New approach.  I looked up my name on a website that is supposed to be able to tell you something about you just from your name.  Right!  Whatever!  But here’s the thing…

When I typed in “Hilary”, here’s what it said:

• Your first name, Hilary, creates an independent, determined, and persevering nature.
• You desire to work on your own or at least where you are making your own decisions.
• You enjoy working with your hands and can be resourceful and inventive along practical lines.
• Being much focused on your pursuits, at times you overlook the personal considerations and attentions that create understanding and companionship with others.
• This name causes you to suffer with self-consciousness in new situations and an inability to be diplomatic when situations warrant.
• You are loyal in friendships and express candidly.
• You enjoy outdoors activities with a few close friends.
• This name, when combined with the last name, can frustrate happiness, contentment, and success, as well as cause health weaknesses through tension or accidents to the head.

Ok, this is freakishly accurate.  But just from my name?  Does this mean that all women with my name (spelled my way)  have these same qualities?  That which we call a rose will be exactly like anything else we call a rose?   Ew.

I’m married to a “Michael.”  He looks like a Michael.  But I can tell you he is unlike any of the other bjillions of Michaels I’ve known in my life.   My unique Michael and I spent days trying to find a name for our adopted kitten a few years back.  When we had the right one, we knew it.  The definition of her name, Maia (beautiful nymph), was perfect when she was a tiny kitten.    Having now been ricocheting around our house for a full three years now, though, I would no longer define her as such, but she has definitely grown into the sound of her name.

So does the name suit us, or do we suit the name?

Have you ever met someone named, say, George and thought to yourself, “He doesn’t look like a George.”  But could you describe what a George looks like?  Me neither.

Yet, somehow, when the name matches the person (or project) you know it.   My new show is about the nearly century-long relationship between Hollywood and Broadway.  As I did my research, I discovered that these two entities’ relationship is, in many ways, just like a human relationship.  They met, they dated, one flirted with the other, and they entered into a relationship… one filled with all the elements of any relationship.   It was originally to be about the Oscars and the Tonys, and had the working title “Oscar Meets Tony” (which I loved), but I found the relationship to be much more fun and fascinating than the awards.  As the show changed, I was tempted to keep the original name, but it just wasn’t right.

The new title is Hollywood & Broadway: A Fine Romance.  It’s perfect.  It’s descriptive, musical, marketable, and it has a nice ring to it.  The show debuts on October 23rd at 8pm at Skokie Theatre.  If you’re interested in coming out to this musical 83rd anniversary bash, just visit the Skokie Theatre website.  I’ll be doing it again in 2011, the last two Saturdays in February leading  up to the Academy Awards, at Davenport’s Cabaret in Chicago.

So, what’s in a name?  Everything, really.  Identity.  Inspiration.

**************
Songs of the Day:
A Fine Romance – Jerome Kern & Dorothy Fields
Eleanor Rigby – The Beatles

So I thought I’d try to help.  In another life, I was a professional organizer, and I’m here to tell you that taming that music mess is as easy as 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3…

[Warning:  The writer of this blog is anal, and the paragraphs to follow may be unsuitable for the ambivalent and unmotivated.]

Music Books

Obviously if you can shelve your books in some particular order that makes sense to you (alphabetical by composer, or by type of music, etc.), great.   HOWEVER, I have a terrific tip that will be a tremendous time saver when you find yourself needing to browse your entire library for a single piece or when you’re on the prowl for new music.

Using your home copier or scanner, make a copy of the Table of Contents Page of each book.  Then put all those copies into a binder, again in some order that makes sense to you.  The next time you want to browse your library, simply flip through the pages of your binder.   Then go pull the appropriate book(s) off the shelf (or out of the pile!).  Easy, fast, tidy… and mobile!  Ta da!

Single Sheets

I have hundreds and hundreds of single sheets of music, in many different formats.  I have lead sheets, choral music, store-bought piano-vocal sheets, and jillions of copies and downloaded sheets.  I used to try to subdivide them into styles of music, but I found this system much too difficult to maintain.   I know some people use binders as a filing system.  I don’t recommend this, as it is also bothersome to maintain.  Too labor-intensive.  Don’t do it.

NOTE:  The more difficult an organizational system is to maintain, the less likely you are to maintain it.  Seems obvious, but this rule of thumb is broken all the time by the well-intended.

Here are two solutions.  The first one is really good.  The second one, if you can do it, is exceptional!

Really Good Solution (RGS):  Create a simple filing system in a filing cabinet, if at all possible.  If you can’t get a cabinet, use file boxes — something you can put hanging files in — rather than those expansion files.  The simplest filing system is alphabetical.  Don’t subdivide more than that, and don’t worry about alphabetizing within each letter of the alphabet (again, too hard to maintain).  Use hanging files and simply mark their tabs “A,” “B,” C,” etc.  This way, when it’s time to put music away, you just open a drawer and drop the music in its hanging file.  Not labor-intensive, and easy enough to find a song when you need it.  If you’re really ambitious, and want to join AAA (Association of Anal Americans), you can make a list of all your single sheets, print it out, and add that to your music library binder, along with your Table of Contents copies.  This takes time up front, and requires another step of maintenance, but it does save you time when you’re  searching for music in your collection.

Note:  If you use this method, I recommend putting some kind of marking in the upper corner of the front page of each piece of music, in red, so you never give away your last or only copy.

Exceptional Solution (ES):  If you have access to a high-speed scanner, or even a regular scanner with a sheet feeder, scan your music and get rid of as many of those sheets as you can.  There are several advantages to this:

1. It saves a ton of space;
2. If you leave the “A” and “The” out of song titles, the file list alphabetizes itself on your computer, and you can very easily browse that list when searching for music.
3. It’s incredibly easy to share music (with students, with colleagues, with transposers or arrangers, etc.)
4. If you do share the music, you never have to worry that you’re giving away your last copy.

I transitioned from the RGS to the ES in December of 2009, and I am thrilled with the result.  It definitely took some time, but zowie!  Is it ever great!  Granted, I had access to a high speed scanner to do this initial huge bulk of scanning (now I just use my home scanner to add new pieces), which made the time commitment much less than a regular scanner.  I would have done it regardless, however.  That’s how useful it’s been for me.

I still have my vintage sheet music and my choral music in file drawers, but all the other single sheets are in the computer.  After I was done with my scanning, I let my students pick through and take whatever they wanted, and then took the rest to open mic to give away.  That was a hit!

Adding New Music to Your Incredibly Organized Collection

I have one set of stacking trays on my desk.  As an organizer I must tell you that I am generally against stacking trays, as they most often just become yet another paper abyss.  HOWEVER, they are great for the purpose of integrating new material into your sheet music library.  The trays are labeled:

1. To Copy (new books whose Tables of Contents need to be copied)
2. Music to Scan  (new sheets I want to scan)
3. Music to File  (new sheets I want to file)

Then, when I have a few minutes, I can add the music appropriately.  In the meantime, I don’t lose track of what’s what.  This works for both the RGS and the ES.

Wrap-Up and a Wonderful Gift

I hope these few ideas help you get started in taming your music mess.    If you have specific questions regarding your own collection, I’m happy to answer them.  Just contact me through my website (http://www.hilaryannfeldman.com), or leave a comment here, and I promise I will get back to you.

Below is a picture of the beautiful music cabinet my father made for me about a year ago.  As you can see, it contains both shelves and file space.  What you can’t see is that Dad made it modular for easy moving.  It’s such a special gift, and I am so blessed to have it.  There are similarly-functional cabinets available commercially, if you’re in the market, but of course I love mine best.

I should note that, prior to my scanning extravaganza, my sheet music took up all the space in this cabinet plus an entire additional large filing cabinet.  Now what I have left fits neatly into Dad’s cabinet with lots of room to spare.

Anal jokes aside, taming your sheet music mess can save you so much time and frustration.  The Music Mess should never get in the way of your creative process.   I wish you the best of success in both your organizational and creative endeavors!

**************
Songs of the Day:
Putting Things Away - Amanda McBroom
Becoming My Mother – Brian Lasser

The hardest part about these slow periods is, surprisingly, not the financial aspect (though I won’t lie, that hurts).  Rather, it is the fact that, if you’re a performer and you’re not performing, it’s easy to feel a bit like a fraud.  And when you’re feeling like a fraud, your self-esteem can plummet, and then continuing to market yourself can become a real struggle.

I had dinner with a lovely woman last week, who happens to be my musical director most of the time.  I discussed with her my current state of affairs, and she reminded me of something very important.  Just because there aren’t gigs right now, does not mean I’m not a working artist.  As long as I’m doing what needs to be done, I’m still working, and that is what is important.

Every day, I’m at my desk by 9am (ish).  I send out press kits, make calls, work on booking gigs for later this year and for 2011.  I’m working on a new show.  I sing in front of people, even if only at an open mic, every week.  I am a working artist.  [Remind me of this later, when I forget... please?]

As a solo performer, I’m in it alone.  No band mates to share the load with.  No agent or manager.  No partner in crime.   This has its perks and drawbacks, of course.   I try to focus on the perks.

This is a labor of love, this musical life I’ve chosen, and I’m blessed to be able to have chosen it.  Like any life worth living, it’s going to have it’s peaks and valleys.  It’s going to create real challenges and provide incredible rewards.   There will be periods of feast and periods of famine.  Through it all, I have to hope that those who know me, love me, believe in me, and enjoy what I do will continue to support me and my endeavors.

In this way, despite the current period of famine, I am filled right up.  And I am grateful.

**************
Songs of the Day:
It Goes Like it Goes - Norman Gimbel & David Shire
Just a Housewife – Craig Carnelia

Prior to 1971 Memorial Day was always celebrated on May 30th, not the last Monday of May.  It was Memorial Day, not Memorial Day Weekend.  The day was about remembering and honoring those who have died in war, who have given their lives fighting for our country’s freedom and ideals.  It wasn’t about a long weekend, big sales at retail stores, or the official beginning of the summer movie season.

For some reason, this fact has hit me harder this year than in the past.  I see people on Facebook and Twitter expressing the need to remember the meaning of the day, and I find this comforting.  But I can’t help but wonder how many people out there really remember… and, if they do remember, how they go about it.

I feel extremely fortunate that I have never personally lost someone to war.  Nor have I ever had to wait and worry at home while someone I love is overseas fighting.  I’ve never really had to sacrifice anything for the freedom I have.  I find this both humbling and sobering.

So I started thinking about Memorial Day.  How do I remember those I’ve never met?  What is the appropriate thing for me to do?  There are actual answers to this question; guidelines on how to observe this day.  Here they are:

• Visit cemeteries and place flags or flowers on the graves of our fallen heroes.
• Visit memorials.
• Fly the U.S. Flag at half-staff until noon.
• Participating in a “National Moment of Remembrance“: at 3 p.m. to pause and think upon the true meaning of the day, and for Taps to be played.
• Pledge to aid the widows, widowers, and orphans of our fallen dead, and to aid the disabled veterans.

I’m sad to say, we don’t own an American flag, and I’d never even heard of the “moment of remembrance” until today… at 7:30pm.  I could buy flowers and visit cemeteries or memorials, but is that the best I can do?  No, I must find my own way to honor those who have given everything.

I must be consciously grateful every day.  I must live a good, productive, and honorable life.  And I must remember the richness I have received from everyone who has been a part of it.   For this last thing, I turn to music.

Music acts like markers along the path of our nation’s history, defines generations and, without any warning, can transport any one of us back to a single, specific moment in our own lives.  I love it when this happens.

You know what I mean, don’t you?  The song that marks your first kiss or first dance; the song that feels as though it fairly belongs to you and your partner; the songs that take you back to college friends, ridiculous college moments, or huge life events; the ballad that always makes you sad or the ditty that always makes you laugh; the favorite song of a loved one now gone; the song from that commercial you’ll never forget from 1973…

Music is my heartbeat.  It is the means by which I tell my stories and the stories of others, and the way I relate to the world.  Making music is nourishment, like vitamins for my spirit.  And I live in a place where I am free to pursue this passion as my life’s work.

So I take these songs, I remember all the people and moments attached to them, I hold them close, and I say ‘thank you.’  I have only been able to live the life I’ve lived because of the sacrifices and achievements of those who came before me.  I may not know you, but you are part of my life in profound ways.  I remember and honor you today and always.  And I promise to pass it on, in deed and in song.

**************
Songs of the Day:
I’ll Be Seeing You – Sammy Fain & Irving Kahal
The Song Remembers When – Trisha Yearwood

Image via Wikipedia

When my friend Barb (you remember her from my last post, yes?) was in for her visit a couple of weeks ago,one of the things we did together was go to the Baha’i Temple in Wilmette, IL.  I’ve been there from time to time in my life.  It’s beautiful… in every way possible.  The building is a work of art, its construction is an incredible story of the human spirit, the grounds are exquisite, the Baha’i faith is everything I would want in a faith if I were shopping.  And when you walk into this remarkable sanctuary, you are blasted by…

… nothing.

But it’s not the sound of Nothing.  It’s not even the sound of Silence.  Silence has a sound, but that’s not what I mean.  This is the sound of Peace.  I’ve heard this sound before — in the redwood forest, in the mountains — but this is different.  Here, inside this beautiful house of worship, along a busy lakefront street, in the middle of all things man, is the sound of Peace like you’ve never heard it before.  It hits you like a wall when you enter.  It folds around you like a warm blanket and draws you in.  And it’s hard to pull away from it when it’s time to go.  A symphony of Peace.  The world aches for this music.

Perfection has a sound, too.  Did you know that?  For some it’s the sound of children giggling, or of a lover sleeping next to them, or of old friends talking and laughing together for hours.  For some, perfection is found in the sound of simple phrases:  “Thank you”,  “I love you”, “I’m sorry.”  For others, it’s the sound of crickets chirping endlessly, the purr of a contented kitten, or of water winding and falling its way to the ocean.

These sounds of Perfection… and of Peace, of Loss, of Silence, of Joy… these sounds all make up the music of our lives.  Life is noisy.  Let us not forget to listen to its music.

**************
Songs of the Day:
The Sound of Silence – Paul Simon
The Music of Your Life – Zina Goldrich & Marcy Heisler

So you have Barb to thank for the fact that this post comes from a place of humor, rather than a place of disdain.

Hi.  My name is Hilary, and I’m an Old Fart.

(All together now:  “Hi, Hilary!”)

When people ask me what kind of music I like best, I tend to struggle with the answer.  As a musician, and a music lover, I have always listened to, performed, and enjoyed music in a variety of genres.  As a vocalist, of course, I love music I can relate to and sing well (two things which, unfortunately, do not always go together).  As a storyteller, I love songs that tell a good tale.

As for what I listen to, I’ve always been proud of the fact that the list is long, mighty and filled with variety.  I believe there are absolute gems and downright dogs in every genre.  I try to pick out the gems.  But, here’s the rub:  The Old Fart Factor.

What happened to me?  Or what happened to music?  I’m not even sure which is the correct question to ask.  What I do know for sure is that asking that second question makes me an Old Fart… and that pretty much gives me the answer to the first question.

Take Rap music, for instance.  I don’t dismiss it, but I am not at all a fan.  I understand its place in modern society (though I lament it’s necessity), and some fraction of it does have good poetry behind it, but I hate listening to it.  Hate it.  Every cell in my body resists it.  There is only one rap song I can honestly say I like –  Hey Little Sparta Kitty on YouTube (the video is very helpful here, and it doesn’t hurt that my husband and I live with Sparta Kitty’s cousin).  But even this gem is not something I’d seek out for listening pleasure.

I feel this way about a lot of contemporary mainstream popular music.  I don’t dismiss it, but I just can’t seem to enjoy it the way I enjoyed it when I was growing up.  Nor can I stay open to changes in popular music the way I swore I always would when I was younger.  Is my granny wart showing yet?

Last year I launched a new solo show called High Standards, which explored the evolution of the standard in our Great American Songbook.  It started out as an exploration into why I wasn’t drawn to singing those old Tin Pan Alley Standards nearly as much I’m drawn to singing more contemporary cabaret music  (so you see, I’m an Old Fart, but not an old Old Fart).  In doing my research, I learned a lot about the evolution of popular songwriting.  What I found along the way was an entirely new appreciation for those old standards, a better understanding of how and why songwriting changed, and a determination to make sure that contemporary songs outside the mainstream find a voice and an audience.

But so much of today’s mainstream stuff… crikey!  Appreciation shmappreciation!  I know my parents were voicing these same complaints about the music of the 70′s and 80′s (my youth) and, let’s face it, they were absolutely right about some of it.  I also know this is going to tick some people off, but not giving a rip is one of the up sides of Old Fartdom.   So here ‘goes!

One of the greatest assets of today’s music world is also one of its greatest flaws.  Technology, mass media, and the internet have made it possible for pretty much anyone with time and gumption to record and distribute their music (and for labels to manufacture ‘recording stars’ out of less than raw material), whether or not they are any good.  This is great for the underfunded talented artists out there, but it sucks for us Old Farts trying to find the gems among all the mediocrity produced en masse.  I don’t have time for all this screening.  I’m busy.  And listening to music for pleasure is supposed to be… you know… pleasurable.

Before you young whipper-snappers get too upset I, Old Fart, do recognize that there are still many great musicians out there producing great work in all musical genres.  I have a lengthy list of contemporary artists who’s work I admire and enjoy.  BUT, because of the sheer volume of music that is being produced and distributed today, those gems feel more and more rare as a percentage of the whole.  Exceptions duly noted, here are just a few of my thoughts.  We’ll call them The Five Farts.

1. Contemporary R&B singers are so busy vocally noodling about that they’ve completely obliterated any traces of melody.  I mean, your vocal gymnastics are impressive I guess, but this is not an Olympic sport.
2. Pop “stars” are being fished out of the cute teenage pool and cloned in record numbers.   I do not believe this is what Ian Wilmut had in mind.
3. Songs are made up of two basic elements:  words and music.  If I can’t understand the words, either because the mix is bad or because the singer simply isn’t singing clearly, what exactly is the point?
4. Somehow that constant falsetto thing wasn’t as irritating when they did it groups (the BeeGees, The Four Seasons, etc.), but now…  C’mon fellas!  You’re men!
5. Great belting… shouting… a fine line crossed way too often.  Just sayin’.

I could go on, but you get the idea (besides, I have to save some for Old Fart Factor II).

Along with these complaints, I must acknowledge some obvious truths.  First, it is researched and documented that most of us form our musical tastes in our formative years and, thus, will always be more drawn to the music of our youth (or newer music like it). This fact alone makes Old Fartdom somewhat inevitable.  Also,  attrition plays a big role here.  In 25 years, most of the dogs of today will have died, leaving the gems behind in much plainer sight.

But in 25 years… I’ll be… nearly 70!

70!  Seventy!!!! LOL!  I may be too deaf or addle-brained to care by then.  Or, maybe I’ll be that ultra hip Old Fart bopping down the street in my hover blades listening to the music microchip in my head.  Haven’t decided yet.

Regardless, I still hold fast to the belief that there are gems and dogs in every genre of music.  This has always been, and always will be, true.   The dogs we enjoyed as kids will die and, when we stumble upon their ghosts in adulthood, they will provide us with a good chuckle and a familiar “What was I thinking?” kind of moment.  The gems will stand the test of time… no matter what becomes of me.

So it is with some strange mixture of enthusiasm and reluctance that I will continue to Genius, Pandora, Rhapsody, and YouTube my way through the mainstream popular music world in search of those gems.   I will giggle at my ever-increasing awkwardness in this increasingly foreign world.   And will always find music to love, one way or another.

I embrace my Old Fart status with humor and, I hope, grace.  And I have Barb to thank for that.

**************
Songs of the Day:
Young at Heart – music by Johnny Richards, lyrics by Carolyn Leigh
The Short Term Memory Loss Blues - Ray Jessel