back to the blogosphere….

Ok ok….so it’s probably been about a year since my last blog post…so sue me. Sometimes life gets in the way of writing.  So let’s catch up….or try to.

Two weeks ago I started a new job as Registrar at The National Graduate School of QualityManagement. Different from anything I’ve ever done in the past, but so far I love it. The people are great and the work is interesting. Beats being unemployed.

I’m still making music whenever and wherever I can. Last Friday night I performed in a show with six other female singer songwriters on the Cape. It was the Cape Songbirds show, to raise money for local women’s charities, and it was a huge success. I had a blast, and I got to play at the Cultural Center of Cape Cod–a new venue for me. What a fun night.

I’ve been writing and playing whenever I can. My songwriting has improved, thanks to other songwriters around me who have been generous with their advice. I still get really frustrated at times, because I feel like I should be playing out more, and doing more collaborating, but it just doesn’t seem to be in the cards.  So I do what I can. What else can I do?

On the personal/family front, my first born son was recently accepted to his first choice college…he starts in August, the same week he turns 18…yikes. How can I have a son that old?? I’m proud of him, to say the least. He’s a great kid who happens to share my sarcastic sense of humor and quick wit. I think he’ll do just fine in college.

This week, I was supposed to be in Newfoundland on my mini tour…but here I am still on Cape Cod. Not my ideal situation, but sometimes life throws you curve balls. I keep thinking about my family up there, wishing I was up there for St. Patrick’s Day, missing them. Maybe next year. Maybe things will be different next year, in more ways than one.

As I can tell from past years’ posts…a lot can change in a year. Here’s hoping.

what a difference a year makes

What a difference a year makes! Well, not quite a year, but almost.  On April 6, 2011 (right before my 44th birthday) I played at an open mic night at Tommy Doyle’s in Hyannis.  It was my first public performance in over twenty years and I was terrified but excited at the same time.  It didn’t take long for that old feeling of exhilaration to return, and I haven’t stopped writing and singing and playing since.

Much has happened in the last year–more, in fact, than I would have anticipated. Everything seemed to snowball once I started making music again, and I’ve been living in a constant state of overwhelmed gratitude ever since.  I’ve been playing open mics several times a month, getting booked for “real” gigs, and I’ve even been invited to participate in a women’s music festival.  Slowly but surely my name is getting out there and so far I guess people like what they hear. I’ve also begun working on my first album.  At this point, however, I’m not sure about the album, or when I’ll actually get to it.  Part of me would rather skip it and just keep writing and performing for the sheer joy it brings me,    while another part knows it’s a necessary part of presenting my music to the public.  It’s just a major hassle given my lack of time and money…and time. Did I mention I have no time? It’s hard to believe I even have enough material for an album, but I do…in the past year I’ve written approximately 16 songs. Those are the ones that didn’t end up in the trash.  Some are better than others, but they’re all very personal and have a special place in my heart.

I made another trip to Newfoundland and met several musicians there who are now friends. I connected with even more family members and fell even more in love with the place, if that’s possible. I found inspiration there, and a strong connection.

I’ve been happier during this past year than I have been in decades. I rediscovered a large part of what was missing in my life, and it feels great to have it back.  I’ve made some wonderful friends in the local music community, and I’m starting to feel like I belong.  Life is hard, and having something that makes me this happy makes all the difference in the world.

I’m curious about what the next year will bring.

Lyrics

MYSTERY

This morning you were silent

Your thoughts kept just for you

I watched you from a distance

The safest point of view

You didn’t give a smile

Gave no acknowledgement at all

I wondered what was going on

Behind that well-built wall.

 

You’re a mystery to me

Like my attraction to the sea

my longing for the water

And my desire to be free

You are my silent muse

I don’t know what I am to you

A lover or a daughter

A mistress or a fool.

 

Why do I keep trying

After months of failed attempts

To pull you in closer

To know your true intent.

I tell myself its over

Its time to let you go

And just as I pull anchor

You let your feelings show.

 

You’re a mystery to me

Like my attraction to the sea

my longing for the water

And my desire to be free

You are my silent muse

I don’t know what I am to you

A lover or a daughter

A mistress or a fool.

 

At times you share your thoughts

Little pieces of your soul

It leaves me wanting more

Of the parts you never show.

I try to swim in deeper

To see what’s in your heart

But you leave me standing on the shore

You have right from the start.

 

I need you like a river needs the rain

I want you more than words could ever say

Please just open up and let me in

I may never be this brave again.

 

You’re a mystery to me

Like my attraction to the sea

And my longing for the water

And my desire to be free

You are my silent muse

I don’t know what I am to you

A lover or a daughter

A mistress or a fool.

The Best Concert Ever

Two nights ago I attended the best concert I’ve ever seen/heard in my entire life. I’m not exaggerating one bit. It was a 7 hour drive from Cape Cod to Montreal-a long and tiring ride. It was 5pm by the time I reached the hotel, and the show was scheduled to begin at 7:30pm. I only had time to get settled in my room and change my clothes. After a quick cab ride to Places des Arts, there was still a little time to kill, so we went to Baton Rouge for a drink.
I was fortunate enough to have a 2nd row seat for this show, and I’m so grateful for that fact. I had a perfect view of the man I’d traveled so far to see. The theater is beautiful–a great venue for this show. Promptly at 7:30pm, the lights dimmed and Doug Paisley came out on stage with his guitar. I noticed that behind him, on bass, was Basil Donovan. Basil plays bass for Blue Rodeo and the Jim Cuddy Band. I, of course, will always remember him sitting in front of me on my flight from Halifax to Toronto last summer. Doug played a great set, and I really enjoyed listening to him. I’m usually pretty impatient when it comes to opening acts, and seriously, how often are the openers actually that good? This time, he really was that good.

Mr. Cuddy at work

Finally the time came for the main show…the man I’d been waiting to see and hear. The man I never thought I’d get to see play live in concert. I felt my breath catch in my throat as I watched him just quietly walk out onto the stage with his band. The lights came up, and the audience went crazy. He smiled that big smile of his and waved and said hello to all of us, and went straight to work. I still can’t believe how good he sounded. Every note, every word was perfection. I watched him play his guitar, watching his fingers form the chords, trying to learn the chords to some of his new songs. I watched his face, as he smiled at various people in the front row, and at other members of his band. He was truly enjoying himself. He showed no signs of nervousness, no hesitation, no weariness. Between songs, Jim joked with the audience, or gave some background of the song he was about to play. He is quite charming and down to earth, which only made the concert more enjoyable.

Jim jammin' onstage

I was happy to be able to hear my favorite songs performed live, right in front of me–Ready to Fall was heart wrenching, Five Days in May was just amazing, thanks to Ann’s fiddle solo. One of the best parts of the show was when the rest of the band left the stage, and Jim sat at the piano alone to do “Pull Me Through”. That is an emotionally charged song written for his Uncle after losing his wife and constant companion of 60-something years. You could have heard a pin drop.

The band returned to the stage for the encore. The very last song of the night was an incredible, totally unplugged version of Wash Me Down, performed while standing at the very edge of the stage-up close and personal.  Jim’s voice sounded beautiful-it’s even better without a microphone. He just sang out, his voice washing over us all. He would hit certain notes and I’d feel a shiver go up my spine. I just wanted him to keep singing like that…just keep singing…
But it was over much too quickly. I could have listened to him for easily another hour or two. I never get tired of that voice, or of those songs. But the show was over, and it was time to go. For me, however, the night was about to get even better.

Hanging out with Jim backstage after the show.

I think I’ll leave this post as a mini concert review. The show was wonderful, easily the best concert I’ve ever been to. It turned out to be a night I will never, ever forget. The rest of the night will remain unwritten, because as they say…what happens in Montreal stays in Montreal. What? They don’t say that? Well…I’m saying it.

My flight with Blue Rodeo (or Newfoundland 2011 part 3)

I’ve posted about my trip to Newfoundland, and my musical experiences while there.  One more thing happened to me during that trip that I will write about here.  It may not be exciting to anyone else but me, but those of you who know me well will understand why it was so significant.  Things like this just never happen to me. Ever.

I left Bay Bulls at 5am to get to St. John’s for a 7am flight out.  As I mentioned in Part 1, I was sad to be leaving.  I had said my goodbyes the night before, and left my cousin’s house quietly so I wouldn’t wake anyone at such an ungodly hour.  As I came over a hill toward the St. John’s International Airport, I saw the city all lit up and it brought tears to my eyes. I wasn’t ready to leave. I wanted to stay, for another week, another day, however long I could get away with. But I had to go and I knew the journey home would be a long and tiring one. I had to fly from St. John’s to Halifax, to Toronto, then to Boston. 

I boarded my flight at St. John’s and we took off on time at 7am. I was in the very front row of the plane.  The woman who checked me in at the counter earlier had told me that when we arrived in Halifax, I could remain on the plane but I would have to change my seat to 9B,  the middle seat. She said she was sorry but that’s all that was available. No problem, I’m flexible. I don’t care where I’m sitting as long as it’s inside the plane.  When we arrived at Halifax, I took my carry-on bag and moved to the 9th row, the middle seat.  Eventually a gentleman came down the aisle and informed me that he had the window seat. He looked oddly familiar to me, though I couldn’t place his face at that early hour. I was too tired and sad to care, frankly. He looked tired and disheveled, and I moved to let him into the window seat, where he promptly fell asleep.  A minute later I looked up to see another man coming down the aisle toward me. This time I recognized him immediately as the drummer from my favorite band, Blue Rodeo!  It was the very handsome Glenn Milchem and he sat down right next to me in the aisle seat. I was stunned, because it suddenly dawned on me that the man sitting in the window seat was Bob Egan, the keyboardist. That was why he looked so familiar to me!  I was sitting between two members of Blue Rodeo. My heart began to pound and I looked up just as Bazil Donovan, the guitarist, sat down in the seat in front of Glenn.  Then I realized-the entire band must be on this flight.  I watched the aisle, waiting to see if Jim Cuddy would, miracle of miracles, come walking down the aisle and sit in front of me, or across the aisle.  Suddenly I saw him. Yes, it was him, entering the plane, coming toward us, then stopping and putting a bag in the overhead compartment-several rows up, right near where I had been sitting on the previous flight.  My heart sank as he took his seat without even glancing down to where I was sitting with the rest of his band.  Why was he not sitting with the rest of us, I wondered? So not fair!  I looked around and realized that the whole band and some of their crew were all sitting around me, all but Jim Cuddy, the one who really mattered most (to me anyway).  As we got ready to take off, I sat and pondered what to do.  I knew I had to say something to Glenn. How could I pass up a chance to speak to the members of Blue Rodeo when they were right there next to and in front of me?  Glenn took a book out of his bag and opened it. I had to move quickly–I didn’t want to interrupt him once he started reading, after all that would be plain rude.  I turned to him and said “It just occurred to me who you guys are.  Can I be a total dork and ask you for your autograph?”  He laughed. I laughed. My face was on fire, burning red.  As he signed a page in my little pink notebook that I keep in my bag for songwriting ideas, I mentioned that I sometimes include Blue Rodeo songs in my sets when I need to fill in with some cover tunes, to which he said “that’s very cool, which songs?”.   I told him, and he just smiled.  He passed my notebook over to Bazil and told him to sign it as well.  He turned to me and said “Bob will sign it too, just ask him”.  I informed him that Bob was already asleep, and I didn’t want to disturb him. He said “He’ll wake up eventually–get him to sign it then”, and smiled.   I really wanted to ask him to go have Jim sign it too, but I couldn’t find the nerve.  I just thanked him and we chatted for a little while. He told me they had just played a gig in Sydney, NS. It had been a very late night and they were all exhausted.  I told him I was on my way back to Boston from Newfoundland.  He asked what I was doing in Newfoundland, so I told him about my family there, the George St. Festival and the Folk Festival.    The plane took off, and we stopped chatting. He opened his book, which I took as my cue to leave him alone, so I put my ear buds in and listened to my mp3 player. Bob continued to sleep. 

I could see the back of Jim’s head from where I was sitting. I stared at it, trying to mentally will him to get up and come back to where we were. It didn’t work.  I thought about going up to the front of the plane to use the restroom, and then saying hello on my way back, but I couldn’t muster up the courage.  I didn’t want to bother him if he was exhausted from the night before, and I was afraid that if he was that tired, he might be a bit cranky and wouldn’t be pleased if I bothered him. I didn’t want to be that person. So I sat in turmoil knowing that my songwriting idol was sitting just rows ahead of me on this two-hour flight and I was powerless to speak to him.  I wanted to cry, but instead I dozed and let all kinds of Jim Cuddy fantasies run through my head.  Glenn fell asleep too, and I noticed that his legs would occasionally jerk, as if he was dreaming he was playing his drum kit.  He kicked me a few times, and I just laughed to myself, wondering if all drummers were like that.

Eventually Bob did wake up, and before he got too engrossed in his magazine article, I asked him to sign my notebook. He said “oh sure” and signed it.  I had 3 out of 5 signatures from the band.  I don’t know why but it never occurred to me to even look for Greg Keelor to see if he was on that flight. If he was, he must have been up front with Jim.  I have no idea. 

The flight was over much too soon, and as we were leaving the plane, Glenn said “It was nice to meet you, I hope you have a good trip to Boston”.  I said “It was great meeting you too, good luck with whatever comes next for you”.   By this time Jim was long gone, sadly. I never did get to talk to him face to face.  I will always regret it.  As I walked up the gateway and headed toward customs, I saw Bob Egan in front of me. I said “Thanks Bob, have a great day”. He turned and smiled and said “You’re welcome”.

Blue Rodeo

Newfoundland 2011- the music

Where to begin?  As I mentioned in Part 1 of my Newfoundland 2011 post, my musical experiences during that two weeks deserves a post all its own. It’s difficult to know how to write it all, though.  I guess I’ll try to go in some sort of chronological sequence…I’ll do my best to capture it all in words, although it won’t even come close to actually experiencing it yourself-which I highly recommend.

The night after I arrived in Newfoundland, my cousin Alan’s band Great Big Sea was to open the George Street Festival–six nights of concerts on George Street.  I’ve never seen anything like it-so many people, all ages, crammed together to hear Great Big Sea play at home.  It rained, but no one seemed to care, and nobody left.  It was a great show, not surprising, having seen GBS before. The vibe was a little different there, of course, being “home” for the b’ys.

Great Big Sea on George Street

Two nights later I would return to George Street, to see The Dropkick Murphys with my friend Larry Peyton, drummer for the band Streets of Hastings.  We had a great time, shared some pints and some laughs and enjoyed a great show.  Again, George Street was jam-packed with people of all types, having fun and dancing and drinking.   Quite an experience.

One of the great things about St. John’s is that on any given night you can go to one of the many pubs downtown and hear amazing local musicians.  There is no shortage of live music there, and music of an amazing caliber.  I saw Michael Hanrahan at Shamrock City as well as Celtic Connection and former GBS member Darrell Power, Allan Ricketts at Erin’s Pub,  just to name a few.

Michael Hanrahan

I could easily have gone to a pub every night of the week and seen/heard someone different and equally talented.  I just can’t experience that here at home, unfortunately.   What I really wanted, more than anything, was to actually perform at O’Reilly’s pub on George Street.  I knew they had Open Mic night on Tuesday night, and I had planned to play then–my cousins were even going to come support me.  It was not meant to be, sadly. The final night of the George Street Festival was that Tuesday night, so George Street was closed off and O’Reilly’s did not have Open Mic night…one more reason for me to return.

I mentioned in Part 1 that I ran into Andrew James O’Brien at Fred’s Records.  I’ve been enjoying his music for a while now, well before I made this return trip to Newfoundland.  It was a treat to get to talk to him before his performance at the Folk Festival, and then again after his set.  He is very talented and I think he’ll have a great career in music.  The Folk Festival was incredible. Two nights of music from some of my favorite performers all on the same stage. The Festival was supposed to be held outside, at Bannerman Park, but was brought indoors to Mile One Stadium due to the nasty weather conditions.  It made for a different experience, but I didn’t care–I was there for the music.

Andrew James O'Brien

Matthew Byrne

Last October when I was in St. John’s I’d met Matthew and Allan Byrne at O’Reilly’s.  That night Allan was performing, filling in for Fergus O’Byrne, who I had wanted to see.  Again, I had been enjoying Matthew’s music well before I met him, and both of the Byrne brothers were extremely nice guys.  Upon returning home I emailed back and forth with Matthew as he generously helped me learn a song he had recorded on his CD.  I did learn it, and now I often perform Bonnie Light Horseman when I play at O’Shea’s.   This year, at the Folk Festival, it was Matthew who was performing, with the wonderful Dardanelles.  They were incredible and so was Matthew.  His voice is so pure, so moving, he doesn’t even need accompaniment.  His a capella performance was so stirring, you could have heard a pin drop when he sang.  I ran into brother Allan who was in the audience, and he remembered me. We had a quick chat, and it was nice to be able to say hello in person again.

Another performer I was excited to see at the Folk Festival was Catherine MacLellan.  I admire her work as a songwriter and I particularly like her guitar style.  I listen to her when I need inspiration.  She did a great set, joined by the Good Lovelies, who I had not previously heard. They were amazing.

The second night of the Folk Festival brought people like Paul Brady,  the legendary Ron Hynes, and finally, Fergus O’Byrne, who I had missed on my previous visit.  The Festival ended with a tribute to Fergus’  group, Ryan’s Fancy which had formed about 40 years ago.  All kinds of guest musicians were on hand for that, including Matthew, the guys from Shanneyganock, and even Bob Hallett from Great Big Sea.  What a way to end a show! And what a way to end my trip.  I’ll never forget that Folk Festival, but I hope to attend another one in the future.

I’m sure I’ve probably forgotten something or someone, in which case I can always edit this post…as far as my Blue Rodeo story…that will be Part 3.

Newfoundland 2011 part 1

It’s been a while since I last posted, and quite a bit has happened in that time.  The summer of busking at the Hyannis waterfront was fun and a great experience. My 13 year old son, Chris, joined me for the last few Saturdays, which made it even more special for me. Nothing compares to doing a gig with your own child, especially when he’s as talented as Chris is. I was very proud to share the “stage” with him.

At the end of July I made my second trip to Newfoundland, this time alone.  I almost felt that I needed to make this trip alone, to find an even deeper connection to my roots there. Again, it felt like I was going home after being away for almost a year.  The weather wasn’t great, but I didn’t really care much. I wasn’t there for a tropical vacation, I was there to spend time with family and soak up the music and the scenery.  I did plenty of all of that, and honestly, I’ve never felt so happy and relaxed as I did there.  I stayed with my cousin Leslie Anne and her family in Bay Bulls where they were more than generous and let me stay  for almost two weeks.  By the time I left I’d become very attached to all of them, especially little Liam, and I miss them already.

I truly enjoy my Newfoundland family members, and I was lucky enough to meet a few more cousins that I’d not had the opportunity to meet last October.  They’re all so warm and welcoming, and really took care of me. I found that we all had things in common besides a family resemblance, which made the connections that much stronger.  It was wonderful to see my 93 year old great uncle again, and to see that he is doing well.  I always enjoy talking to him, because I learn something new about my family, specifically my Grandfather, every time.  I also visited the Petty Harbour Cemetery this time, which I didn’t see last October because it was raining.  I saw my great grandparents’ and my grandfather’s headstones, which was very moving for me.  I never thought I’d ever be standing at the grave sites of my great grandparents from Newfoundland, proof of my ties to that beautiful place. 

my Great Grandparents

 

 

 

My Grandfather

It felt surreal to be standing there. 

One of the many things that draws me back to Newfoundland, besides my wonderful family, is the music.  I’ll write a separate post about my musical experiences during my visit, because they deserve their own post.

On my second day visiting, my cousin took me on a drive down the southern shore to places like Witless Bay (my Grandfather’s place of residence before he passed away) Tors Cove, Brigus South and Ferryland. In Ferryland we stopped at an archeological dig, which was fascinating.  Along our drive, whenever I’d see a house for sale I’d wonder what it would be like to live there.

I went to Sunday mass at the Basillica in St. John’s.  Last October when I was there, my cousin Rose and her husband Bill  brought us there and gave us a tour of the inside. I loved the huge pipe organs and the beautiful stained glass windows.  It made an impression on me, and when Christmas rolled around, I wondered what midnight mass must be like there.  I decided then that the next time I was in St. John’s I would go to mass at the Basillica.  And that is exactly what I did.  Anyone who knows me well knows that I’m not big on going to church.  I was raised Catholic and pretty much forced to attend mass on Sundays, which made me rebel against it later in life.  I’m finding that as I get older, however, I’m drawn back to it, not necessarily for the doctrines of the Catholic faith, but for the beauty and peace that I find in certain churches. The actual structures themselves are interesting to me, and I am also drawn to tradition.  I actually enjoyed attending mass at the Basillica, because the building itself is so beautiful. 

St. John's Basillica

One of the things I really enjoyed during my stay was just wandering around downtown St. John’s on my own.  I would drive down Water Street, find a parking spot, and just leave the car and walk around the downtown area. I wandered around Gower Street, admiring the colorful rowhouses, taking photos randomly.

Gower Street

Gower Street rowhouses

I had lunch at the Duke, I visited O’Brien’s music shop on several occasions, to the point where they recognized me when I’d enter.  I also shopped at Fred’s Records and had a pleasant surprise.  I think it was my third day in Newfoundland and I went into Fred’s to poke around and pick up a couple of cds. To my surprise, when I went to the register to pay, who was working behind the counter–Andrew James O’Brien!  I couldn’t believe it.  I introduced myself, as he and I had exchanged a few emails over the past several months, and we had a nice chat. He’s a genuinely nice guy, and so talented.  I got to speak with him again at the Folk Festival after his fantastic set, while he signed a cd for my cousin. Such a nice guy.  I predict big things from him. 

On another day when I was off exploring on my own, I went to Petty Harbour, where my family is from.  I parked the car, got out, and just sat at the wharf.  I just wanted to “be there” and soak it all in.  It’s a peaceful place, for me anyway, and I could have sat there all day just looking at the water, the boats, and the hills.  On a different day I would meet up with my mom’s cousin who happens to be the Mayor of Petty Harbour, and get more of a guided tour of the area.  But on this particular solitary day, I just experienced the harbour on my own, quietly, and thought about what life must have been like there, and what it might have been like to grow up there.

A big event that took place during my stay was the Royal St. John’s Regatta, a rowing tournament at Lake Quidi Vidi.  It was cold, drizzly and foggy, as it was for most of my visit, but the regatta went on regardless.  Kiosks and tents lined the shores of the lake, with food vendors and games of chance.  It was fun to walk around and see so many local people out, showing their community spirit. 

I also got to go on a boat tour with my cousin Leslie-Anne and her three year old son, Liam.  That was a really fun experience, being out on a boat (one of my favorite things) and seeing humpback whales and puffins. It was cold but I didn’t care, I just love being out on a boat, and seeing wildlife I’d never seen before was amazing.

On one rainy day, I decided to just get in my rental car and drive. I drove to a place called Cupids, and Bay Roberts.  Each place I saw had a special beauty of its own, and I enjoyed just driving around and seeing the landscapes and seascapes of each place. 

I know I can’t mention every aspect of my visit in this blog post, or it would be volumes and no one would want to read it all.  Suffice to say, it was one of the best times of my life and one I’ll never forget.  As I drove from Bay Bulls to the St. John’s airport very early on the morning of my departure, I saw the lights of the city as I came over a hill. It brought tears to my eyes knowing that I had to leave and I wasn’t sure when I’d be back.   I love Newfoundland, and someday I will live there.  I don’t know when or how, but I know that it’s the place I am happiest and most at peace.

Of course some of the biggest parts of my visit were centered around music.  Those experiences — The George Street Festival, the nights at the pubs, the Folk Festival– deserve blog posts all their own.  It was only one part of my trip, but the music was huge.  Just as learning more about my family and strengthening that connection was important to me during this visit, so was the music and my internal, inexplicable connection to it.

PS- to make my trip home a little less painful, I got to share a two hour flight with all of Blue Rodeo-including Jim Cuddy. That story deserves a post all it’s own–coming soon.

 

Overwhelmed

Last October when I made the trip to Newfoundland to visit family and explore the land my Grandfather left behind, I never expected my life to be so profoundly changed.  It was changed, however, and is still being changed almost daily, all because of that one fateful journey. 

After spending time with my Newfoundland family, I realized how much I’d missed making music. Writing, singing, playing my guitar, were all things I’d walked away from when I started raising my boys. When I lost my father, I turned my back on my music for over a decade, not even touching my guitar in all that time.  One week in Newfoundland with my musical family, however, brought me back to my roots and my love of making music.  Upon returning home, I gave myself the deadline of the Spring to get some new songs written, brush up on my guitar playing, and get out there in front of an audience again.  Spring came all too quickly.

Much to my amazement, I followed through on my commitment. Spring came, and I went to an open mic night at a local pub.  With trembling hands and a wavering voice, I got up and played, and sang. I performed two of my own songs that night. One was called A Better Life, which I had written about my Grandfather Doyle and what he must have felt when he left Newfoundland and moved to Boston. The other song was Back To St. John’s, which I wrote after coming home from that fateful journey.  I was homesick for the place immediately upon my return to Massachusetts, but it took me quite some time to actually write the song. I just couldnt put into words the emotions I was feeling at the time. Eventually I did, and that song was the result.  Both of those songs can be found on my Facebook Artist Page www.facebook.com/ckingmusic  (click on BandPage on the left of the page).  The reason this post is called “Overwhelmed” is because of how things have progressed since that one open mic night.  After that night, I went back and did more open mics.  I started doing them at different pubs, wherever they were having open mic nights.  The more I performed,  the more confident I became. I started taking gigs, although still non-paying ones, whenever they came along.  I just wanted to get out there in front of people and play my songs.  I started to record rough demos in my bedroom, on my iPhone.  I keep writing new songs.  More people hear my songs…it has snowballed and things are now happening at a dizzying pace.   Several people have asked me where they can buy my CD…to which I have no response because I don’t have a CD out.  It did get me thinking about it, however.  I’ve since been in contact with a few different producers and studios, and I am researching all options.  It looks like I’ll be recording my first CD sometime soon.

I just never would have imagined any of this back in October when I stepped off the plane in St. John’s, Newfoundland.

I am overwhelmed.

Busking…not like the “olden days”

This past weekend I did my first stint as a busker in over 20 years.  A lot has changed in that 20 years, especially me.  Back in the “olden days” as my children like to say, as  Berklee students we all would busk in the subway stations occasionally. It was a great way to earn beer money (we called it phone bill money, but it pretty much all went to beer) and it was good practice for the future stardom we were all certain to attain.  The acoustics were fantastic down in the subway, too, if you could get past the smell of stale booze and urine.  I was about 19 or 20 years old then, and afraid of nothing.

Now I’m in my mid forties and afraid of everything.  I would never busk in the subway these days, unless some serious cash was guaranteed.  No, these days I prefer to busk at the lovely Hyannis waterfront.  Saturday was my first day, playing between the artist shanties that line the walkway near the ferry terminal.  There was a nice breeze…ok a bit too breezy maybe–I need to bring some clothes pins next time to hold my music to my music stand.  The sun was shining, people were walking around, artists were painting and selling their work, ferries were arriving and departing.  Ferries have loud horns they blow as they are departing, which I had forgotten until I heard the blast of one right in the middle of my song, which startled me enough that I forgot where I was and had to begin again… but it was cool, there weren’t any people listening to me at that particular moment. 

I played and sang, and if actual people happened by I would sing a little louder, play an upbeat tune. If the people walking by were older, I’d play an old Irish tune, hoping to get their attention.  Know your audience.

About halfway through my set, I heard this sound coming from down the street, getting louder as it drew closer.  Then I saw him.  Across the street,  an older gentleman playing a trumpet as he walked along the sidewalk toward the Black Cat restaurant.  He then stood on the lawn of the restaurant and continued to play his trumpet…loudly.  So I stopped playing, to listen and rest my fingers.   I figured he was done when I saw him walking off the lawn and into the Black Cat, so I started playing another song.  I had just begun to sing the first verse when I heard it again. The trumpet blasting from across the street.  This time he was on the balcony, playing out to the street, directly across from me.  I thought to myself, “Darn you Lou Columbo!”  I sang louder, and played my guitar with more force and conviction. Lou played even louder, more uptempo.  I knew I couldn’t compete with a trumpeter of Lou’s stature, so I gave in. I sat and waited patiently for him to finish, then started to sing again.  I was pretty much near the end of my two-hour time slot anyway, so I didn’t really mind, in fact I thought it was amusing.  I wondered if Lou had ever busked in the Boston subway tunnels. 

It turned out to be a nice day, and I made $5 which immediately went toward lunch for my son and me.  I’m sure as summer goes on, it will get busier and I’ll gain more confidence and maybe get some inspiration for new songs.  I just love hanging out  at the waterfront, around the boats and the artists and the tourists.  I don’t even miss the smell of stale booze and urine.

artist shantiesartist shanties

nagging voices of doubt

…and so it begins. I shouldn’t be surprised. After almost twenty years, I found my way back to my music, faced my fears, and dove right into writing and performing music again. I set goals, followed through, and met them.  Once I began, things started to happen, seemingly on their own. Momentum started building, gigs have begun to surface, possibilities for the future.  Then the voice started making itself heard.  You know that voice.  It’s that little voice in the back of your mind, that starts to undermine everything you try to accomplish, sowing the seeds of doubt.  My voice has been really loud this week, and when I try to quiet it by pushing forward, it just starts screaming louder.  It says “you can’t do that”, “you’re too old now”, and “you’re not good enough”, followed by “what in the world were you thinking?” , “you’re kidding yourself, it will never work out” and “people will laugh behind your back”.  I hate that voice, it’s a paranoid little bugger.

I know we all deal with this when we’re trying to accomplish something important to us. It may not be important to anyone else, but to us, it’s everything. I think that is what gets that voice started. We have so much riding on what we’re going after, we have such passion for it, that in our own minds we start to try to sabotage ourselves. It’s almost as if we want to do it before someone else does, so it might hurt less.  How stupid is that?   I admit it, that voice has really bothered me this week. Nagging doubts about what I’m trying to do, musically.  Am I too old now? Did I miss my chance? Do I seem ridiculous to even want to try now? Is it just a big waste of time?  It would be so easy to give up, and let that dream go. I could just go back to not singing, not playing, not writing songs, and go back to just working a regular day job, being a regular mom, wife, daughter, sister, friend.  I could go back to being unhappy, feeling like something is missing, knowing what that something is, but being too afraid to risk living the way I want to live and being who I really am.

So maybe I am older than many of the other singer/songwriters I’ve been running into. Maybe it is too late for me to actually turn this into any kind of career.  I do regret waiting so damn long to find my way back, but I’m glad I did. I’m eternally grateful that I took that trip to Newfoundland and spent time getting to know some of my family. They had a bigger effect on me than they will ever know, and that trip changed my life forever.  So, I will try to ignore that annoying voice in my head that keeps trying to make me give up, and I will keep writing and singing and playing.  It makes me happy, and probably easier to live with.  I’m not the world’s best songwriter or guitarist, but I’ll keep working at both, which can only bring improvement.  I may be older, but that should just give me more to write about right?

One last thing. Thanks to all of my family and friends who have been so supportive. I really appreciate everyone’s comments, suggestions, and encouragement. I will try not to embarrass you.