Thursday, November 13, 2008

Catching Up on the Songwriters

I wanted to write more about the Songwriters group that met at Sparkytown on Election night. It was the second time Chris and I had attended as spectators. There were two new singers and a couple of the regulars couldn't make it.

It was obvious that the election was on everyone's of the artists let everyone know she supported McCain and another told her he liked her music even if her politics were wrong. My hubby, who was proudly wearing his "Mc Can't" t-shirt, graciously listened to her and laughed when someone else thought his shirt meant he supported the Republican candidate. One musician played a new song about elections, relating this to playing liar's poker. There was friendly debating, even though I have to say I was quite surprised at this woman's support of McCain.

And then there was the music. Each person has a particular style that's become obvious to us even after only two evenings with these very special musicians. A haunting melody accompanied by lyrics in Spanish began the evening; even though I don't remember much of the Spanish I once knew, the song was lovely. And I loved a somewhat lengthy tune called the Alkie's Lament; it reminded me of something Tom Paxton would write.

But two performances have stayed with me since that night. The first was a song about suicide by a new player in the group. When he wandered in, I imagined anything other than the amazing sound that we heard when he began singing and playing....he was mesmerizing. His song was simple yet compelling. His deliverance came from somewhere deep within him and resonated.

And the other one that has stayed with me was someone struggling to find the right tempo, the right word, the right mood, the right everything. His body language and performance spoke of his frustration. I identified with him. There's nothing worse than knowing what you want the end result to be and being lost in the path while finding your way there. I struggle with that, too, most critical of myself.

If I knew him better, I'd tell him to take some long walks in the woods (he can borrow my dog if he needs company) and think about something else and when you least expect it, the right words fall into your head. I am sure he has experienced this before, and will again. We can't lose faith in the muse. We just need to practice being patient.