granted myself a music that was neither coming nor going

good morning ~

(click the link / backstage blackberry bush to listen)

My Big Breakgranted myself a music that was neither coming nor going

today’s track is a crunchy live capture of the set I played in New Mexico last week

I made it home from this 98% life affirming and 2% punishing tour just fine and I’m very happy about it all. also hello to all the new readers who signed up at merch tables etc in the last three weeks, really nice to have you here

normally I would mention something I have coming up here but I think I will take a pause on that for this week :)

I am always struggling to determine what kind of music I should play. A set performed by me can go any number of radically different ways and as our second-to-last gig together approached I found myself really not wanting to lose an opportunity to play with the band. The festival had it billed as an "(Ambient)" set but that could really mean anything, right? I thought maybe we could replicate the slow unfolding of the 40-minute instrumental version of "Wichita Lineman" we listened to as we drove through Colorado. And I thought maybe we could find a musician or two to sit in, helpers in holding space. But we would have no time to try anything ahead of time and every person I invited to join in had somewhere else to be - we were all working hard that weekend. And an increasing tally of festival attendees kept letting me know that they were excited to bliss out on Sunday afternoon.

We struggled to get coffee when we wanted it throughout the weekend and by the time Sunday rolled around we all agreed that a break from the dust and a six-dollar espresso beverage might help clear our minds and lift the weariness from our dusty bodies. Plus, I got a haircut. But I didn't feel rejuvenated, exactly, in fact I felt badly in need of a nap, still wore out from watching a dozen+ sets and playing a few myself the days previous, plus there was the extraordinarily long drive from New York. We had already encountered one dark night of the soul in Boise but the hero's journey of the festival weekend presented us with another: how could we surmount the sleepy Sunday? Plus, pretty late in the game I learned that there would also be an interview component to the slot - somebody would be asking me questions about my life and work in-between numbers.

Ultimately, lacking in that moment the audacity necessary to do something completely new and potentially jarring, I opted to play the set solo, thinking that I might have more flexibility and could more easily accommodate the interview. Backstage I threw back a barrage of food co-op supplements and a hearty pour from a pitcher of cold, black coffee back stage and tried to get centered as the saxophonist Josh Johnson finished his set. His music was serene and serpentine, his horn filtered through a stack of harmonizers and guitar pedals, his swift movements describing something static in summation, like watching a river bend, beautiful. In catching his last couple of tunes I realized I would be extremely and very intimately on display, lit nicely for video and in very close quarters with a seated audience.

The interviewer ended up being an extreme mensch who had thoroughly done his research - he proposed some themes and approaches as Josh wrapped up and I knew he would give me good leaping off points when we spoke on mic. But when I asked the stage crew if it would be possible to remove some chairs to let people lie down, they said well no not really - we're expecting at least 100 heads and if we take the chairs out they won't all fit. Again, I did not quite realize what I was getting myself into, this was more humanity than I anticipated facing, but at least we cleared a little room for the recumbent.

Do you need all the facts before you begin? Do you need to know the shape of it? Or would you respond better to a pulling of the rug? There, on the bridge, you're already strapped into the contraption - is it better to know exactly how many feet you'll fall before the first bounce? What are you going to do, tick them off five at a time? Maybe it's better just to jump?

I stumbled through plugging in my gear and getting comfortable, I wiped the sweat from my brow, then Dan introduced me, and before I really understood what was happening I was reaching far back into my catalog, pulling out a drone I lived in during the summer of 2013. Where had it come from? I described the situation, the island in Alaska, the spruce trees, the oily black wings of the ravens, and then I sang.

We chatted some - couldn't tell you what we talked about - and the set continued this way, with serene sprawl and the occasional conversation. I looped my voice, I pulled up the recording of the Greek cicadas, I plucked tiny little Wurlitzer chords, I let the music trail off.

Is it better to guess at what music would best serve an audience? Is it better to read the room and respond? Or perhaps a more reliable approach is to focus on what mode of sound making would best serve you, the performer - what do you need to hear right now? What do you need to do?

Depleted and extremely overstimulated, I granted myself a music that felt inviting and without boundary, like sleeping in a king size bed and not being able to find the edge. I granted myself a music that felt like a cold shower and eucalyptus oil. I granted myself a music that was neither coming nor going.

The crowd reaction to this - me playing how I needed - surprised me - many reports of tears, of profound personal experiences, one of the strongest and longest hugs from a stranger I have ever had. A really deep stirring in the room, and I found myself emotional, too. I think that between all the music and all the activity and all the substances there hadn't been much chance for stillness. Here was an hour of unfurling, loud enough to drown out the rest of the festival but quiet enough to hear your own heartbeat. I thought of an airplane, how you have to put on your own breathing apparatus first. I later learned that the entire set was unbeknownst to me video broadcast on two enormous screens, people kept thanking me for the music.

But what about you? Are you fulfilling your own needs or are you fulfilling the needs of others? Have you given yourself the space to lie down, both metaphorically and literally? Do you owe yourself a six dollar coffee today?