Redirection: Singing

a gorgeous spring night out of doors, trees blooming everywhere
live old-time music fills the air, played by down-to-earth people who are also awesome musicians
children laugh, dance, giggle, play
a dog runs here and there, visiting
an old white man clogs near the band
a middle-aged black woman runs toward him and joins in, dances alongside him
Yes.


I had the pleasure this evening of hearing the Carolina Chocolate Drops live on the lawn of Maryville College... and it was free! A friend of mine had mentioned them to me. He told me that if I got the chance to see them, I should take it. And it was fantastic. (Thanks, Jack!) They're an incredibly versatile trio. They swap instruments quite a lot, and they play everything from jigs to Gaelic tunes to a cover of the Blu Cantrell song "Hit 'Em Up Style." And it's all awesome. So buy their music: it will make you happy, and spring is the perfect time to listen to old-time music and bluegrass. And if you're in Nashville, go to the Grand Ole Opry on June 14 to hear them- they'll be playing there.

I heard them play earlier on the Blue Plate Special at WDVX. What pulled me in and intrigued me was the voice of Rhiannon Giddens. You see, I'm trained in opera singing - that's what my college degree is in. So I'm a little bit picky about singers because it hurts me to listen to some of them. That was not the case here. I heard her sing and immediately thought, "This is a trained voice." And I was right! I asked her about it after they played tonight, and sure enough, she was trained in opera at Oberlin Conservatory. She also danced a little bit of Charleston, and she says that she wants to learn lindy hop. Wow.

What struck me - what really made me stop and reconsider my own singing - is that she's really kicking ass at this old-time music, and she's an opera singer. For a while now, I've been wondering what to do about my own singing. I don't want to waste my talent and the time & money I spent on the degree, but I've just been stalled in this area. On the one hand, I'm an opera singer. I feel like I should sing opera. I feel guilty for not singing opera. I do love to sing in operas, but it's such a cumbersome process. On the other hand, what I really get into singing is blues, soul, and gospel. That's when I really move people. That's what I really enjoy. And I've been moving slowly towards it, but I think hearing Rhiannon tonight really galvanized my movement towards those things I love to sing. Just last night I was at 4620 listening to an open blues jam and thinking that an informal jam like that might be a great opportunity to get my feet wet again where performing is concerned.

So for the rest of the evening I will be on my porch, drinking a beer, meandering through some tunes.

The lame man: no more excuses

I got sick. REALLY sick. I don't get sick so much, really at all. But a week after Enter the Blues, I started coughing one night. The next morning I woke up with the bubonic flu plague of death. There was coughing and aching and a fever in addition to the sniffly nose and complete lack of energy. I didn't want to cook or eat or think about food: this is always a bad sign. My friend Mary cooked me lunch and sent me home with soup and movies.

Now the strange thing is that I think of sickness as a welcome: if I think I'm getting sick and I don't, I usually wish I had been. This may seem strange, but think about it. What happens when you get sick as a kid? Your mom takes care of you. There is soup involved, and tea, and orange juice. And no school! But now what happens? I feel like death, like all life has been drained from me. I do not want to eat or live. I have no impulse to do anything. I am not the Megan you know.

Because of the severity of it, I want to remember this sickness. I want to remember it because for the first time I so clearly understood that I truly do not want to be sick: I want to be well in as many ways possible. I want my boundless energy and exuberance, even if I'm not sure where to channel them. I don't want to feel sorry for myself. I don't want to make excuses or be a victim: I want to choose. I do not want to live like the lame man who, when Jesus asks him if he wants to be well makes excuses: I want to take up my mat and walk away rejoicing.