The Fix

 Try as I might, I can’t stop thinking that I am defined by what I do at any given time.  But as long ago as Grade 5, I was told by a teacher that my generation would probably not stay in one ‘career’ like our parents, but would possibly have as many as six. By the age of 41 I’ve already had several distinctly different jobs.  The question is, in a society where what we “do” is often confused with who we “are”, what is our identity?

Recently I froze during an otherwise great conversation when the other person asked me about my occupation. It’s not just the big changes which can cause this uncertainty. What if you’re using the same groundwork or training to do a completely different task? What if it’s your ‘role’ within a group or organization which changes? How do people view you differently? What if you gain, or lose power, in reality or the eyes of certain people? Is it possible that you might gain or lose friends as a result?  I can tell you, dear readers, oh yes it is.  And what of all your prior accomplishments, the years of accrued skill, the colleagues, and one would hope, the wisdom? Are they lost forever or can you carry them over into your new world?

In moments of clarity I believe that everything is connected. My experience, talents, and probably sense of humour, are the constant in whatever job I choose to do, but it’s how I view the world and move though it that defines who I am.

So just because I’m holding this journal “Ethnomusicology” doesn’t mean that I am no longer a singer, a broadcaster, a dreamer, a hack pianist, a snowboarder, a lover of LA but also of Paris, a wife, a daughter, and as you can guess, a procrastinator. That’s who I am.

 
Here is What Is Trailer 

One day last September before things kicked into high gear, I snuck into an afternoon screening at the Toronto International Film Festival. It was partly out of duty that went to see the music documentary Here is What Is, thinking that I  should get to know more about Canadian musician and producer Daniel Lanois. 

From the stunning opening shot of Garth Hudson’s hands drifting across the piano keyboard, and the lyricism of his meandering solo, I was far more enthralled than I’d expected to be. The film is a rhapsodic look at Lanois’s life in music, ambling in and out of the studio and the private lives of Lanois and the musicians he works with as he records his latest album, Here Is what Is. 

Often the music is allowed to speak for itself, with full songs to play out in some cases, supported by thoughtful conversation. The visual style is equally creative, including dance sequences, shifts between black-and-white and psychedelic colour, lush framings (such as Lanois in the centre of the red spot, above), handheld and lo-fi video. We see Lanois visit with other musicians, including Brian Blade, Eno, U2, Willie Nelson, Emmylou Harris, Aaron Neville, Billy Bob Thornton and Sinead O’Connor. They muse on why they play music, and what is important to them, but some also show a refreshingly down-to-earth attitude. Brian Eno discusses his own lack of romanticism in a way which is somehow inspiring; pausing in the midst of his own project in Morocco, he says, 

“things come out of nothing… the tiniest seed in the right situation turns into the most beautiful forest… If you walk around with the idea that there are some people who are so gifted, they have these wonderful things in their head but you’re not one of them, you’re just sort of a a normal person… then, you live a different kind of life. You could have another kind of life where you say, well I know that things come from nothing very much, and start from unpromising beginnings.. and I’m an unpromising beginning, and I could start something. ”

Lanois seems committed both to allowing things to take their natural path, and to shaping them into something better. At times the film turns almost evangelical as the musicians reflect on the blurring of lines between sacred and secular, with Lanois himself calling his guitar his “church in a suitcase. ” In these moments it comes as close to depicting the ecstasy of musical experience as any documentary I’ve ever seen.

Today I got my hands on the Here is What is CD, out on Red Floor records. Order the Here is what Is CD and DVD.   Link to the trailer, top of page.

Hold me. My favourite little music club in the world is closing. Let me explain, though– it’s not really closing, it’s moving to a new intimate location. Why the panic, then?

We all know that the magic of Largo is actually created by the musicians and audiences who congregate there, and orchestrated/facilitated by Flanagan, the owner and booker. We should all trust Flanny’s good taste, and feel safe in the knowledge that he will be at the helm of the new Largo-at-the-Coronet.

I look forward to the ease of booking tickets (tickets! imagine that) online; not waiting in endless queues outside the door;  not being forced to eat sometimes mediocre food or pick random strangers from the line to fill out my table for four, as amusing though that could be. I know there will be more than one toilet, and it might even be in good working order. And I feel secure that I will be able to find all of my favourite artists (Jon Brion, Fiona Apple, The Eels, Aimee Mann, Nickel Creek, Zach Galifianakis) on the new stage…

BUt how odd that there will be a real stage. It’s a concert hall, not a little cozy club with an almost private, in-ny feel. Will I still be close enough to reach out and touch Jon (not that I would)? Will we still always feel like he is looking at us while singing, like the “pursuant eye’ of old portraits? Will the doorman get to know us? will I make as many friends as I did at the old place?

We have no choice: let’s all take a deep breath, and jump. I’m actually confident that Largo will catch us.

Hear a super Jon Brion show from Largo

The other day I had to remind myself again that there’s no such thing as Music Police– So I should just relax!

Back in the days of Puirt a Baroque, Terry Mackenna and I used to have to tell ourselves this as we tore apart and then recontructed the sacred cows of Gaelic song, and baroque instrumental music. Maybe we could go ahead and do as we liked, and no Music Police would decend on us and charge us with a musical felony.

Over lunch recently we realized that, hey, we don’t even have to remind ourselves of that anymore because we’re living it. What a relief!