“New Year’s Day”
In forgotten clubs across America,
we pay tribute to the late great songwriter
who barely broke through
the consciousness of his occasion.
Lifting our mugs of beer and lowballs of bourbon,
we toast not only a man’s work,
but also a timeless story: a troubled poet,
whose words may imprint paper
longer than his footsteps tracked
the wintery ground to seedy towns
where he sang his songs to chairs,
until his voice grew hoarse.
Who needed whom more?
The song or the songwriter—
the audience or the entertainer—
the stiff hand or the drink?
By night’s end, all we will conclude is
Lefty needed Pancho,
and another unsettled poet
will take up the chase.
January 2, 2017
With live music, we all fail and succeed together.
Mariah Carey fails better than 99% of the world succeeds.
— Dave Holmes (@DaveHolmes) January 1, 2017
Wrong, Dave Holmes. When it comes to live music, we all fail and succeed together.
I don’t want to pile on more jokes about Mariah Carey’s NYE mishaps; instead, I want to challenge us with an idea for the new year.
This year is an opportunity for both artists and music fans to make a choice: Do you want something to be real?
It’s out there.
You need to decide if you want it, support it, pay for it.
Because when you hear a singer lip-syncing during a live performance, you have traded the reality of live music for an illusion in the name of entertainment.
This trade-off isn’t morally wrong, but the problem is that the artist and fans don’t want see (hear) the trade-off. It’s like the action of photoshopping in an advertising. American society has created an expectation that isn’t reality; and we’ve lost sense of actual beauty.
However, we get glimpses of the illusion.
It’s cliche to cite a Beatles example, but bear with me, for last night’s NYE performance warrants it.
Last year, a live album of the Beatles (from the Hollywood Bowl, taped in 1964 & 65 ) was released. It demonstrates what many already knew: The Beatles were an incredible live band.
They played the first stadium shows with less than admirable equipment, few roadies, and never could hear themselves on stage over the crowd’s screams.
They were just very good at playing their instruments and they just had muscle memory so they could sing and play without being able to hear themselves. And that’s what The Hollywood Bowl was. – Giles Martin, interview on NPR
Now-a-days, we have reached a level of quality with musical and PA equipment that surpasses what the artists of the 60s could have imagined.
But when is the last time you heard a record that wasn’t extremely digitally manipulated? When is the last time you attended a concert there wasn’t background tracks being added by a laptop?
Those shows are still happening. Those records are being made.
This year is another chance to make a decision; and it’s a shared decision, by the artists and the fans. We, together, have to decide.
Do you want it to be real?
1. Starting the year right, listening to music: I’m attending Chris Buhalis‘s annual Townes Van Zandt/Hank Williams show at Old Town Tavern in Ann Arbor on January 1st! 5 PM until whenever it stops.
3. Volunteering at a local nonprofit that supports young adults.
4. Campaigning actively for the person who throws in (her) hat for Michigan gubernatorial election in 2018.
I’m hoping to stay within a 40 minutes (or less) commute from Ann Arbor, so I can have enough quality time with Natalie, Ginny, the new baby boy coming in June (and our dog Lois).
Don’t worry, music isn’t stopping! I’m healed up from the accident, and I have three-day tours planned for 2017, including shows with Amy Soucy from New York, Chaz Hearne from Chicago, and Mike Gentry and Jen Sygit from Michigan. I’ll be touring the Midwest (and maybe East Coast) next year, and my residency gigs at Cleary’s in Howell, mash in Ann Arbor, and Brighton are booked.
Six years ago, Natalie and I were celebrating with our lovely dog Gunshy at a party we hosted. I was dreaming of doing music full time, and Natalie and I were renting an apartment above Cleary’s Pub.
Time indeed flies by more quickly each year. I wish you a wonderful New Year. Stay in touch.
“SPF 20”
We walked between the waves
breaking up on the beach.
Your back was so sunburned—
evidence that I had missed a spot.
“Why won’t you swim with me?”
you asked. “Summer ends so soon!”
I held your hand; beckoned by whitecaps,
we gave the sea one last night,
but I knew I was leaving that empty shore
darker-skinned, yet unharmed;
while you, a red shell, soon peeling.
December 18, 2013
