FAWM post #1: the calm before the FAWM

If you missed my intro to FAWM post... ya might wanna catch up.

I have latched onto this FAWM thing like a tick in a dog's ear and I'm not letting go. The proposal, boiled-down, is "hey, let's all write a crapton of music at the same time, and encourage each other while we do it." This is my own philosophy, but when you find a good thing, YOU DON'T LET GO.

Because I feel so snazzy about the whole thing, I'm doing quite a bit of proselytizing. I reckon I'm getting a bit annoying by now, but I'm absolutely shameless. The number one response: "oh, I'm too busy." "I have a lot going on in February."

I interpret this in one of two ways.

Interpretation Number 1: Person is probably not really digging the idea, and/or is annoyed by my constant nagging to do FAWM. Person is trying to find a way to let me down gently and the "busy" excuse always seems to do the trick.

Interpretation Number 2: Person really digs the idea, wants to write music, loves the idea of an encouraging community. Person, however, also has bills to pay.

If you're reading this and you fall into the second category, I have three words for you.

Just.

Do.

It.

Because if you truly feel called to do something (anything!), chances are it will be exciting, enlivening, educational, edifying - but it will not be easy. You'll probably trade in some of your comforts and your complacency. Comfort is great; living the adventure is better.

I fully expect to arrive at March 1st with a sleep deficit, a messy house, some folks I've offended for lack of visitation, and (God willing) 14 brand new songs with which to edify, educate, and commiserate with others. Plus an ever-widening community of local songwriters, some of whom I've hopefully helped to encourage along the way. Plus some new collaborators and partners-in-crime.

Folks who ask, "how can you do that?" are looking only at the first three things I've listed. Looking at the sum total makes me ask in reply, "how could I not?"

Just reminds me of this Hunter S. Thompson quote, one that I think pretty well describes my approach to life, faith, and everything else:

"Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!"



(click here to check out my current progress on FAWM.org)

It's not about the size of the dog in the fight...

...but I bet it probably helps to be the bigger dog.

Kind of like how if you're a guitarist, you can rock any old guitar, but MAN. Life is so much better with the right equipment.

I started sinking funds into new equipment last year, when I realized I'd need a good-quality nylon-stringed guitar with a pickup in it. I'd played a Breedlove a year prior to that - but I declined to buy it, thinking, "this is just a hobby... I don't really need a guitar with a pickup in it."



But now I'm thinking of music as a business and a job, not a hobby. And yeah, you can mic a guitar. Is it awesomely awesome to mic a guitar? No, not really. I move around, so I either bang into the mic, or I'm too far away to be heard. Hence, the Breedlove and the new amp. Needless to say... I entered a radical new world. Guitars have STRAPS, and you can WALK AROUND while WEARING and PLAYING the guitar! And you can HEAR YOURSELF coming out of an AMP! Still while WALKING AROUND!

Wow, I thought. I am finally cool.

Now I'm exploring picks and capos. After my Breedlove arrived, I realized... it's nylon-stringed, but it's more closely a steel-string body. Which means that I needed a curved capo, instead of the flat ones that classicals use. And, bonus!, it happened to be bright red. Score.



For picks, classical guitarists grow out their fingernails. This is great for classical pieces. The tone is wonderful and you have absolute control. If I wanna rock out, though, I have to use a pick. Primarily because, even on nylon strings, I tear my nails to shreds. After years of conditioning, I cannot break myself of caring for my nails. (Also, I could never grow strong nails. All the guys in the guitar studio had nails as thick and shiny as a hardwood floor... mine sucked.)

So I decided to try some out...



My honest preference is the thumb pick. It transitions easily between picking and strumming, plus it's actually attached to your finger. I wish I had a metal one, though.

Also, I made a short video of me using those aLaska Piks, the strange tan ones in the photo. They've got potential, especially as a backup for a broken nail... they fit snugly on my finger and I can file them into the right shape. I think the plastic also recreates the tone of a fingernail quite well.

Enjoy!

Waiting for the Snow

There's a pot of rice cooking on the stove, and I'm waiting for the snow. They said it would come, and I believe them - not because they said it would, but because of that bitter chill that bites you in the nose on your way home from work. The official herald of snow.

There's a ponderous sense of peace that settles in like a fog when I'm waiting for the snow. The headlights coming over the hill dwindle in number, seem to come more slowly. The house is warm and quiet, except for the rice bubbling away. It makes me think, for some reason, of frontierswomen sitting together in familiar silence, patching quilts. They had their music and their songs, but many nights were probably spent quietly, like this. (No TV.)

The quilts they might have patched... not the decorative type that adorn modern houses, but the crazy-quilt kind. Nonsensical. Colors and shapes of whatever scraps are lying around, fabric bandages that hold it together through another year or two since new cloth is too expensive for an old quilt to merit.

Truthfully, I haven't found my identity as a musician/performer yet. I know it. I feel all jumbled up like a crazy-quilt, made up with bits and pieces of other stuff. Classical training, but loves the simple joy of traditional jigs and reels. Guitar, but also trying banjo dulcimer recorder bass piano who knows what else. Joining a choir. Running a choir. Giving lessons. Amateur storyteller. Summer camp songs extraordinaire. Composer. Songwriter. Loves a good ska show. Feels a little like multiple personalities, sometimes.

It's not like I'm looking to be restricted to just one thing... I love that God's putting me in so many places where I can use the gifts I've been given. But man, sometimes I get to feeling adrift. It's all I can do just to keep moving forward in faith... knowing that I started musicking because of God's encouragement to be who He made me to be, and He finishes what He starts.

Jammin' at the dance

Of the past 24 hours, I have spent 6 dancing. That's a quarter of my whole day. My body's pleasantly tired and my heart's full of joy. There are probably better feelings than this, but I'd be hard-pressed to tell you where to find them.

The memory of my first contra dance is pretty hazy. It ought to have occurred somewhere in Greensboro, North Carolina, about 5 or 6 years ago, but it seems like it's always been a part of me. When asked to describe contra dance, I usually say, "it's a little like square dancing -- the moves, anyway, but it's done a lot like English country dancing -- like in Pride and Prejudice," which I reference though I don't think I've managed to sit through it yet.

However, this simplified description doesn't capture the essence of the dance; it tells you only about the dance itself. When I go to a contra dance... I go because I want to be surrounded by people who are full of joy, who are smiling at you and having a good time and are ever so pleased that you are dancing with them. It is a celebration of joy and other really simple, basic pleasures.

And it is a community, with lots of different roles filled by lots of different people by lots of different places. Organizers. Musicians. Dancers. Callers. Workshop leaders. The folks with the audio equipment who do the soundboard. They come from miles around... for most regular contra dancers, an hour or less of travel time is relatively close.

Contra dancing has never been anything other than an interest or a hobby for me, but I still consider it to be an area where I'm active musically -- even if it's just a jam session, like this one, after the Arden contra dance this evening. These folks are from the Baltimore Open Band and SPUDS from Philadelphia (collectively known as the Mason-Dixon Contra Dance Orchestra), as well as a few musically-inclined dancers (like myself).



Many contra tunes are known throughout the community of musicians -- certain tunes, standards, anyway. This makes it pretty easy to jam. Essentially we were just going around the circle and naming tunes we knew. The folks that knew them played along, the few folks that didn't would just listen, or try to play as best they could.

It's sort of funny because... I love it so much, but I haven't really actively tried to learn the music. Why not? Well, here's the notion... and it's completely stupid, but I know you will understand because you, too, have thought stupid things like this...

I think that it would be easy, so I've never tried.

I have to laugh at the audacity of that statement. How would I know it's easy if I've never tried it? That's pride, and I know it, and God knows it. He's like, "well, if it's so dang easy, why don't you do it? Go pick up the banjo, guitar, recorder, whatever, and go play the darn stuff. The sheet music's up on the Lancaster contra dance page, and you know it."

And I'm all, "WELL, MAYBE I WILL." And I haven't, yet... but I love finding out where I have pride and then trying to break it down. Learning the stuff would be a great way of doing just that. I have no intention of being a pretentious jerk, so while it's disappointing to uncover a piece of pretentious jerk in me, it's awesomely fun to destroy it.

There's no life where there's pride. There's life in the humble and the simple things, and that's where I'm tryin' to go.

FAWM: going after inspiration... with a club.

Michael and I are trying to gather together Delaware (and Delaware-area) songwriters to participate in FAWM, or February Album Writing Month. It's a songwriting challenge; write 1 song every 2 days in February, you end up with 14 songs (about an album's worth).

I managed to complete this challenge last year, and it was amazing. I already had a good pile of songs, but most of my current original repertoire is a direct result of FAWM. The thing that snagged me about FAWM, and the thing that kept me going, was the supportive online community they've built up around it. FAWMers are great -- they come from all different countries and all types of musical backgrounds. They'll listen to your stuff online and give you honest, constructive feedback (if you like).

Online is good, but... I've always been big on community, and I've always been big on music. I don't think we'll ever be sorry we tried to bring together a group of local artists to encourage and hone one another. Nope. Never.

And that's why we're doin' it. Please consider becoming a part of this growing community of artists and songwriters, even if you don't think you can do FAWM.

For more info, check out this site that Michael threw together. Or check us out on facebook!

(Plus, you can watch me through the month of February as I tackle the challenge myself...)

People Who Have Songs

Playing Tate Street Coffee was a great deal of fun. Many thanks to everyone who came, including the gentlemen who are collectively the Space-O-Nots, who sat right in front and sang along to Jonathan Coulton's "Re: Your Brains" and "The Horseshoe Crab Song" (an original, of course).

I admit that this was my first... well, my first "real" gig as "Em, the singer/songwriter." I'm not sure exactly why it qualifies as "real," it just... does. Playing for an hour on my own in a public establishment... I've done it before, but only as a classical guitarist. It's never been an hour of my own stuff.

Nervous? Yeah. About my playing? No. Mostly I was nervous about the fact that I was unleashing my own writing on the world. Playing classical repertoire is a much different experience... you end up playing stuff by a lot of dead white guys. Sometimes they're not dead yet. Sometimes they're not guys. But mostly, yeah, dead white guys. Not your own stuff. The stuff that's your own is the technique and the interpretation of the music. And trust me, it's not that people are not judging -- people are totally judging. People can (and will) tear you a new one over technique and interpretation.

Playing your own stuff... flawless technique is nice, but you can interpret your own music however you want. People are judging your playing by a different standard, maybe trying to relate, maybe just appreciating the musicality of it... maybe listening to the poetry of the words (if applicable). So while I'm used to the stage... it's a whole different world.

And I think that I think too much about what people think. I have songs, and I've watched other people who also have songs -- more or less studied them and tried to find out what it is that people with songs do.

• People who have songs tend to showcase said songs, usually doggedly.
  
• These songs tend to become precious to the communities in which the person belongs.
  
• Occasionally, a person who has songs will rise into the consciousness of wider and wider communities,
  
• but the common thread running through all people with songs is that they never cared much about that bit. They only had their songs and a desire to share.
  

I guess I always had songs, but I never much had the desire for sharing 'till now. If I had to guess, I would say I probably only have God to blame for that. I can't logic it out how it comes to be that desire grows where no desire has ever grown before, or how love multiplies in a world that seems to crush love underfoot at every turn. All I know is, it does.

Goin' to Carolina... in real life.

I'm in North Carolina right now, couchsurfing at my friends' houses, catching up, seeking advice, and generally enjoying the snot out of myself. Liz and I went contra dancing last night to the tuneful playin' of the McKenzies:



I even have a gig tonight at Tate Street Coffee House :) Just 'cause I wanted an opportunity to share with my friends all that I've been writing and doing these days. It'll be fun to see how it all turns out. Also, I'm completely stoked about it.

More later! I'm running late for lunch with a friend!