Perfomance to a "T"

Three nights in a row, I've gone to venues here in Boston that feature singer-songwriter types - two open-mic nights (marathon songfests) at Club Passim and one at a place near Inman Square (a complete dive with really cheap beer - the kind of dark and smoky bar you see on TV).

I've seen more guitars over the past few days than I've seen in my life.

Last night, there were 42 singers who took the stage at Club Passim, of which I was one. I sang a song I wrote called "Wandering." I think I did well, since so many people came up to me afterward and congratulated me. One of the staffers asked if I was coming back next week. I will.

Perhaps the biggest impression I have so far of the music in Boston is that there is more room for a wider range of talent. I had to drop my jaws at how difficult it was to be in the club tonight, listening to some pretty brash guitar playing and incessant wailing and yelling. And the singer actually has a CD and will tour the West Coast next week.

With as many guitar playing as I've heard over the past few days, I will say that the great percentage of players have a rather brash touch. Very percussive and unvaried in pressure.

It made me think about all the guitar playing I grew up with in Waianae, in church groups, Waikiki streets and at the beach parks. I may be biased, but I can't imagine that I'm terribly so. It's just that the guitarists here don't seem to have the musical sensitivity my ears were so used to hearing for so many years growing up in Hawaii. It seems that with the force of the message guitarists here want to deliver also comes a forcefulness on the guitar. Maybe some people prefer hearing it that way, but it's not my preference. Of course, I realize that I'm making this assessment based on a very limited view.

But if anything, I realize that Hawaii people are extremely talented in music and it seems to come so very naturally to them. But many Hawaii people are humble or shy about their talent, so they'd never think of hauling their equipment to some street corner and "bless" the passersby. And, the people I know in Waianae would probably shy away from an open mic. Here in Boston, there are tons of open mic places, and they get booked out. Last night I stayed at Club Passim from 7 p.m. until 11:45 p.m. to see each act. Sharing music in the performance context in Hawaii may be counter to a certain kind of culture. Hawaii people may actually be more willing to sit in a circle on the beach and play for a small group, without even a thought of becoming a star.

This is quite the opposite of a guy I met last night named Sammy. He was the biggest prima donna I have met to date. "I want to become a household name," he told me. "I know I'm good, and I know my stuff." He wore a black T-shirt, black jeans, black boots and a black suit. He gelled his hair to a James Dean shape and sported light-blue specs. He was also very bony, with a facial structure that resembled Ric Ocasek, the main singer of The Cars.

He slid back in the chair next to me and slumped in a "too-cool-to-be-here" way and spouted off all kinds of wonderful things about himself - how he's classically trained and how well he knows his jazz reharmonizations and how Atlantic Records was interested in his work (though "they weren't signing anyone right now").

When the first singer started strumming his guitar and singing a 400-year-old folk song, Sammy told me, "I can't take this sh*t." He looked at his watch and said, "I'll be back in an hour." That's about the time he was scheduled to take the mic. He was planning to bless everyone there with his heavenly talent upon his return.

I was so disgusted. How can expect people to support him when he can't even support others? Well, when got on stage, he in a dramatic sweeping motion threw down his jacket and strode over to the keyboard. How did he do? My short answer: Sammy who? He's quite a great lyricist and had a nice chord progression. He also had a nice touch on the piano. But his melody line was not very memorable and his voice was nasal. He also threw in a few misplaced jazz chops.

I realize more than ever that music and performance are not the equal. You can perform but have no music. True music is very spiritual, and the emotion shared between the artist and the listener must be intimate. Such is the case every time I go to Jackie Ward's Rafters in Kaimuki. The music flows so freely and you can feel the energy of the people who love and embrace the music, and the artists, too, return that. Perhaps there are many people in this world who want to be "performed to," but if Sammy is a true performer, than no performances for me.

T with A

That's "A" for Attitude.

Since January 21, 2001, I've been really wanting to create a baby T-shirt that contains the following:

FRONT: There is a god
BACK: Dear Lord, Thank you for saving me from my lame-ass ex-boyfriends.

And, after seeing Cheyne's blog (thanks Cheyne!), I saw that there was a company that manufactures products with designs submitted over the Web.

So, here it is: The Break-up T.

It was loads of fun making this product. You know, it would make a great break-up gift.

Posted by ruth at July 10, 2002 09:48 PM