girls who play stuff, and the girl who loves them.
Almost every girl
I know plays piano, to one degree of excellence or another. They all
seem to know how to sing as well, but the piano playing is a more
common thread. I know men that play as well, of course, but it always
seems like the boys just want to play guitar. Some of them are
brilliant with the strings and frets; others, well.....not so much. But
anyhow...back to the girls.
The dedicated
piano-playing diva I know best is my friend Catherine, who happens to
have the voice of an angel, if angels could be anything from bluesy to
operatic to poppy to jazzy in a single song. Cath sang and played at
our friend Kristen's wedding, and I cried like a wuss. She has that
thing -- you know the thing -- the capacity to pull music out of thin
air, and make you feel like she found it in the depths of your soul
(you just didn't know it was there until you heard her play it for
you).
Catherine also plays guitar, but my heart belongs to her and a piano,
eyes closed, head back, singing her guts out.
If you knew how lonely my life has been
And how long I've been so alone
And if you knew how I wanted someone to come along
And change my life the way you've done
It feels like home to me, it feels like home to me
It feels like I'm all the way back where I come from
It feels like home to me, it feels like home to me
It feels like I'm all the way back where I belong
My roommates Kris
and Ker are triple threats, too -- singers who play piano and guitar. I
haven't had much chance to hear anything but their singing, but they
have enough talent there to make up for what I've missed on instruments. They sing so
beautifully, you could swear that they invented certain notes. And they
do harmonies, too, which is like musical crack for me. I could listen
to them all day...and probably, as we walk around, listening to mp3s
blasted through tiny speakers in the living room, it could be said that I do listen to them
all day. We all sing along, our voices occasionally rising above the
tune flowing through the speakers, contentedly sharing songs with one
another.
I’m trying to tell you something about my life
Maybe give me insight between black and white
And the best thing you’ve ever done for me
Is to help me take my life less seriously
It’s only life after all
And I won't even
get into the various talents (on everything from flute to sax to violin
to clarinet to accordion to ukelele to cello to trombone) of Laurell,
Ashleigh, Lorelei, Marilyn, Jenn, Joline, Jaime, Melinda, Teresa, Lindsay, Heather, Jill, Kim, Michelle, Miranda,
Anna, Laura, Erin, Kate, Michal, Margaret, Becca, my mom, both my
grandmas (piano girls both!), my Aunt Gwen...gosh, the list goes on and
on. They have all inspired me at various points with their musicality,
or the general love of music that they share with me in spades.
I can sing, kind of. That's
about it. I took piano lessons, but I was ousted by my teacher for a)
not practicing, and b) goofing off. I didn't get very far. I also tried
to teach myself flamenco guitar, but I lost myself in the difficulty of
it so early on that I couldn't play a thing for you today to save my life (well, to save my life, I could bluff a little). I
have pretty natural rhythm, and a strong sense of tone and pitch, but
I'm no prodigy. When I'm not self-conscious, though, I can belt with
the best of them. It might not be fabulous, but it's something to see.
I only get stage
fright when I'm trying to be serious; otherwise, I can step into
character and be anyone from an aging opera singer named Betty to a
former lounge singer named Lola. I host a coffee house once a year, and
people never quite know what I'm going to show up as...and actually, I
generally don't either, until about an hour before I go on stage.
That's when the muse strikes, and some weird invention emerges. I make
up songs off the top of my head, regale the crowd with tales of a life
I've never lived, and generally make at least one man in the audience
blush by calling attention to him in the most awkward way (right,
Theo?).
Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl
With yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there
She would merengue and do the cha-cha
And while she tried to be a star, Tony always tended bar
Across a crowded floor, they worked from 8 till 4
They were young and they had each other
Who could ask for more?
But my girls -- they have talent. For real. They have what it takes. They're inspiring. I love how much music and joy they bring to my life. And speaking of inspiring...
Lorelei (you may know her as the foxy mother of the cutest baby who ever lived) and I went tonight to a jazz concert by the (remember this name, she will be famous, I guarantee you) Laila Biali Trio. And all I can say is WOW.
There are many,
many up and coming jazz musicians out there. There are many people who
interpret standards like absolute pros. But the rare gal --like Laila
-- is one who writes her own stuff, and makes the standards
sound as fresh as though they'd been written about two minutes before she sang them. She is a seriously
brilliant vocalist and pianist, and an award winner,
at that (she won for best keyboardist and composer). And her co-trio
members, Brandi Disterheft (a girl who plays acoustic bass -- and damn well! -- is always dear to my heart) and Sly Juhas (not only the owner of a very
cool name, but a kickass drummer to boot!) are equally as talented. I
was startled by the quality of what they were producing, and bopping
around in my seat like a class-A nerd.
Go to her website. Buy their CD, even if jazz isn't your thing. Follow this girl wherever she may go. She has it -- and you can't miss it. The best thing about watching her perform live was watching her smile at us (the crowd) and at her fellow musicians, as we all got lost together in the music. She has one of those faces that lights up
like a million candles on a big old cake. You could tell she was just
happy to be sitting barefoot at the keys, singing her heart out, no
matter who was listening. But we were listening...and smiling the same way.
Pack up all my care and woe,
Here I go,
Singing low,
Bye bye Blackbird,
Where somebody waits for me,
Sugar's sweet, so is he,
Bye bye
Blackbird!
No one here can love or understand me,
Oh, what hard luck stories they all hand me,
Make my bed and light the light,
I'll be home late tonight,
Blackbird bye bye.
Watching people
like Laila, Brandi and Sly, not to mention my host of uber-talented
girlfriends (I won't even get into the guys...I don't have that kind of
time!) is something I love in a deep, deep way. I love watching people do their thing. I love watching people love what they do.
A life lived passionately is a reward in and of itself.
That's what I want.
I want to do what I do -- whether it be writing, singing, or rocking a baby to sleep -- like a jazz musician plays a song: with ferocity, with grace,
and a sense of rhythm both unpredictable and instinctual. I want to
write like Laila plays, and even if I never hear a round of applause,
to know that someone out there gets it because I believe it and live it
expecting that they will.
So...I guess I better get going on that.
It don't mean a thing, if it ain't got that swing
It don't mean a thing, all you got to do is sing
It makes no diff'rence if it's sweet or hot
Just give that rhythm ev'rything you got...
It don't mean a thing, if it ain't got that swing
11:21:43 PM 
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