In Tune and In Community

Is it possible for me to stay "in tune" at a busy music conference attended by hundreds of people?

Last weekend I checked in on that question again, after side-stepping it for the past few years by simply not attending. I couldn't help thinking of Ray Davies' comment that all performers are introverts as I joined with so many others gathering in the halls, having animated spontaneous conversations and eagerly giving out promo materials.

I kept pace pretty well, but felt a bit relieved that I had only one song to sing. (Here I am, singing it! Many thanks to Shirley Gibson for the photo.) Later, another musician pointed out something that I hadn't fully realized: "Bicycle Bell" is, itself, an affirmation of the "smaller voices" we hear, both in the world and inside ourselves. In the song, I affirm their potential to make positive changes...and yet, in life, I still find myself conflicted.

Did I want to stay up to participate in late-night showcases? No. But did I want to appear as though I was part of the crowd? Yes. Did I want to follow my own star, and express my own truth? Yes. But did I also want to fit in? Yep, that too.

Being an artist provides an opportunity to become aware of our sometimes opposing needs: to distinguish ourselves with our unique vision while also belonging to a larger whole.

Perhaps the thing that can bring both of these needs in tune with each other is the concept of community. If I stay in tune with my inner voice--even at those times when I feel out of step with the majority--I strengthen community by making it more inclusive and diversified.

As Parker Palmer writes in his book "Let Your Life Speak","When we live in the close-knit ecosystem called community, everyone follows and everyone leads."

Thank you to the Ontario Council of Folk Festivals for recognizing "Bicycle Bell" as a Songs From the Heart winner this year in the political category; for hosting a complex and multi-layered conference every year; and for seeking to build community with music and among musicians and presenters.

One Song

This weekend I'm heading to a music conference, where I'm very fortunate to be singing one of my songs in an official showcase setting.

The song is called "Bicycle Bell".

As things have turned out, it's likely to be the only song I sing at the conference...a place where singer-songwriters often try to perform as many songs as many times as possible, so that the highest possible number of professional opportunities might arise.

Playing this one song, once...will it be enough?

It will be, as long as I know that we only ever have "one song". One life, one breath and one moment. Right now.

The idea that one performance must lead to another, and another, and another...it takes us away from truly inhabiting the one song we have.

May I be happy to be singing one song now.

Optimistic Songs in Hard Times

This week I wrote a song in response to the recent Canadian election, for Take5 on CIUT. I billed it as an ironic love song to Stephen Harper. (For readers outside Canada, he's the frosty right-wing politician who will lead a minority government for the second time in a row. Sixty percent of us voted against him, but he remains our Prime Minister.)

The song (which contains the word "frosty") is called "Right Back Where We Started*. (Here's a live version from the radio show on Friday morning.) It's written in the voice of a woman reluctantly returning to a guy she knows isn't good for her. Depressing, right? Cynical? You'd think so, after an election like this.

But the song turned out to be generally happy-sounding. A cheerful little waltz in a major key. I had written an optimistic song, after a disappointing election outcome, during the worst economic crisis of my lifetime. What was I thinking?

Well, first of all, I wasn't really "thinking". Instead I was writing a song, and that's a whole other thing. When you're fully engaged in the creative process, your heart (or soul, or unconscious) is doing most of the heavy lifting, while your brain (intellect, conscious mind) just navigates the process. "Just a few steps more (one more verse, please)...don't bump into the wall (that line has too many syllables)..." That sort of thing.

Once songwriters become truly proficient, they write what they need to hear. Not only what they want to express, but what they need to hear. It's the unconscious mind, the soul, that midwifes into being the needed song, as opposed to the expected or "supposed-to-write" song.

After a week like this, I can tell you that I needed some good news, more than I needed a re-hashing of everything bad. I didn't want to deny what has happened or hide from reality, but I needed to frame that reality in a way that helps me stay sane and productive. Thankfully, the unconscious mind knew exactly what to do.

I'm glad that, without thinking, I wrote a happy song this week.

Its very existence tells me that optimism is still possible.

* A few notes on the lyrics, for anyone not familiar with the Canadian political system. The Prime Minister (Mr. Harper) presides over the deeply divided House of Commons ("...waltzing round the House again"). The space in between opposing parties is called the floor. Members of Parliament often behave badly in the House. ("Hurling names across the floor...") The Leader of the Opposition (only recently installed and likely to step down now) is named Stephane, and though a man of substance and integrity, he has turned out to be very unpopular. I think the rest of the lyrics are self-explanatory. - lh