Man, what do you say about this woman? She’s amazing. She’s kind. She’s charming and funny and REAL. And her music is so groove infested you just want to get up and dance. I’ve been following Laila for years - and I remember thinking about 10 years ago - man, I wish she’d do original music - and now she is! And it’s GREAT! Don’t get me wrong - she has some truly INSPIRING covers - Yellow, by Coldplay - and I heard a Joni cover of Woodstock that was so original and beautiful it took your breath away. She also performed a Randy Newman song - and woah. Blows your socks off. She was accompanied by Matt Aranoff on bass and Jared Schoenig on drums - two stellar jazz/contemporary musicians that have all the right things to say. They both took several solos during the night - phenomenal. Definitely worth going to hear if she rolls through your town!
Saturday night, I went out to hear Mark Guiliana (drums) at The Vanguard in NYC. Late set. Joined by Jason Rigby, saxophone; Shai Maestro, piano; and Chris Morrissey, bass. What an absolutely beautiful sonic evening. They gave few titles for the songs they played - a misfortunate omission, I feel - I always want to know the name of the tune I’m listening to - even if it’s after the fact - or something that inspired it - or even who it was written by - I know it’s a jazz instrumental gig - I just like knowing what I’m listening to - it helps the imagination - especially those new to a person’s music).
I’d heard OF Guiliana before, but never heard him play. Holy S*%^ he moves his feet fast. He’s just a blur of sound and space. His playing was exquisite and sublime and never too much or too little. The interaction between he and the rest of the band felt secure and filled with excitement and energy. His high hat foot work was unbelievable. I don’t think my feet could move that fast without being attached to a drum pedal.
The band all played gorgeous solos filled with nuance and energy and a lot of the tunes, while not memorable in melody, were memorable in emotional imprint. My favorite, and the one that still evokes feeling, was one of the only named tunes of the evening - by the bass player, Chris Morrissey. It was in a very fast 3 - so much so, it was hard to even discern the meter - the band simply floated within the time, telling sonic stories of depth and breadth. Maestro’s solo on this tune is still playing around in my mind - sensitive, creative and moving - it transported the listener to a place beyond the Vanguard.
Rigby’s sound is like something out of a dream - the way a tenor saxophone is supposed to be played. I’ve always thought this - since the day I met him almost 10 years ago. There is something carnal and erotic while simultaneously grounded and wholehearted to his playing that evokes emotion beyond the notes he plays. He has a way of leading your ears down a musical road only to suddenly take them in a different direction - playing with your sense of time and substance while all the time letting you know it’s gonna be ok in the end. That’s a rare find in a musician. He always seems to be in the moment of where he is - whether on the bandstand or off - he is where he is and nothing else is needed.
While the music was truly inspiring, the movements of Morrissey were highly distracting - so much so that I actually had to avoid watching him - which was unfortunate, because his playing was so eloquent and energetic. His movements were so distracting they actually detracted from the actual performance and high level music making occurring on the hallowed stage of the Vanguard. A lot of musicians have strange movements while playing and when in the moment - I’m used to that - but these were so far and above it was actually unwatchable and also rather disconcerting.
Overall, an evening of music worth hearing. Glad I went.
Today, I had a double-header. I went out to hear something called “Explore” that a friend – and fellow singer - of mine, Sirintip, invited me to come and check out. Then to Mezzrow to hear Daivd Cook & Henry Hey.
So, with this blog, I don’t really have any reason except that it seems like an opportunity to write about music, about people I care about, and about this city I love. As I said, I go out to a lot of music. Sometimes, I’m the only person in the audience for these shows and sometimes I’m one of a whole bunch of people. But either way, I love supporting live music, my friends, and venues that provide live music listening opportunities. Here’s my thoughts on some of the stuff I’ve heard.
With the advent of informal and peer-based learning instruction within academic situations - specifically in relation to popular music and popular music education - there is an increasing interest in discontinuing one-on-one instruction within these programs. While this post focuses on the vocal realm, I welcome insight and thoughts from other disciplines, as this continues to plague my consciousness, no matter how many ways I approach the thought process. And believe me. I’ve tried. Seven ways to Sunday and back. But I keep coming back to the same issues, some of which I wonder are ethical issues, which is of course where it gets sticky.
*First appeared on APME blog: https://apmepopblog.wordpress.com/
About a month I found out that the way I organize my professional life and career has a name.
It’s called a Portfolio Career. A portfolio career is exactly what it sounds like – your career looks like a constantly changing, moving, and growing portfolio. It encompasses all the things you hear about musicians doing – writing, teaching, playing, touring, putting out albums, business meetings, website design, mixing, mastering, recording, bookings…ect. – each opportunity and experience adds to the breadth and depth of the portfolio. Pretty sweet, huh?
From the perspective of many people working traditional ‘jobs’ where they do the same thing, go to the same place and interact with mostly the same people every day, portfolio careers can look really messy and perhaps even stressful. But for the creative (one who creates) it’s exciting, exhilarating, fun, engaging, challenging, and always changing. Just like their art.
Yet rarely do we talk to our students about this kind of a career. Too often, I talk to students and ask them what they are planning after graduation. Standard responses range from: “I’m going to be a performer,” to “I’m going to work in publishing,” to “I have no idea and I’m really scared.” It’s the last one that I find brings the most sadness to my days. While it’s great that so many schools are integrating entrepreneurial and music business courses into their curriculums, they seem to be leaving out an essential part of the puzzle.
Many schools seem to not let students know that it’s totally OK, and even wonderful, to not do ONE thing when they get out of school. To help them figure out what their version of success looks like and how they might achieve their goals. To show them how the things they’re learning about in their courses can give them the tools they need to create a rewarding portfolio career.
In America, and I suspect in many other countries, this is almost completely antithetical to the accepted norm of success being completely linked to the amount of money in ones’ wallet and the amount of years at a ‘job’ and how high up the ‘ladder’ one is. But is this really the only measure of success?
I’ve worked a portfolio career for over 20 years. I’ve taught every age from two to eighty. I’ve booked and run two successful tours. I’ve given masterclasses and workshops. I’ve taught beginners and advanced students. I’ve released three records, with a fourth and fifth on the way. I’ve put myself through grad school – twice. I’ve sung backup vocals for famous people. I’ve helped people learn how to find the beauty in their voice. I’ve authored a chapter in a book. I’ve spoken at international conferences. I’ve never worked outside of music in the 20 years I’ve lived in NYC. Ever.
Yet by so many standards, I am not successful. How sad to have this view. How happy I do not.
Finding out that what you do has a ‘place’ in the world is extremely empowering. Let’s help our students know that having a portfolio career is a completely viable and wonderful way to move through life and that it isn’t a failure – it’s just a different way of viewing success.
I recently took a course in Community Music. For some of you reading this, you are familiar with this term, but for many of you, including myself three months ago, I only had a vague idea about what community music was. I thought it was community groups that form in some church basement and play music for fun with their friends. And it is. But it’s also SO much more than that. In his book on Community Music, Lee Higgins (community musician, rock guitarist, scholar, professor, and now president of ISME) explores and explains community musicianship. He defines community music as (1) of a community, (2) communal music making, and (3) an active intervention between a music leader or facilitator and participants.
Community musicians have at the core of their practice an ethos to engage people in the making of music, not only for its aesthetic value, but for its ability to help people. They help people find meaning, joy, understanding, and acceptance. They help people build relationships and explore new possibilities. They have an attitude towards making and facilitating music that creates culture through inclusivity. Community musicians do things. Great things. Life-changing things. Societal change kinds of things.
Over the course of semester, I kept coming back to the same question - asking myself how these attitudes can be included in popular music programs. I have this nagging thought that somehow, popular music and the people that engage in creating it can change the world. Not like Live Aid or a similar event, which certainly made a difference – but something that could actually change the social fabric of humanity. Could community music and its principles offer that possibility? If we educate people in popular music classrooms and programs with an ethos towards the tenets of community music and similar philosophies such as cultural democracy, personhood, and artistic citizenship, can we help facilitate larger change? If those same students go on to massive success and they have at the core of their artistry and practice and ethic that encapsulates these principles, could the music they make, which could reach millions, have a larger societal affect? Especially if their music speaks to change they want to see in the world? If those students then facilitate community music programs and activities would that change the social fabric of society? Can they make a difference?
With the political turmoil currently occurring in my homeland, I have so many students writing songs of protest, of pain, and of love – wanting to do something. I have students asking me ‘what’s the point?’ and ‘why should I bother?’ and I say – “because we need you - because you can be the voice of the people who don’t feel they have them.” Maybe be can help them be that voice.
Recently, I had the opportunity to attend a Masterclass with a venerable jazz artist. The opening discussion was focused on what the students, most of whom were jazz majors, thought about music and jazz today. The conversation weaved back and forth between artist and students and at one point, a student said that they loved jazz because the music that is being created today is nothing but Paper Plate Music.
That comment sat with me, for while I understood what they meant – that it’s just something people simply listen to and then discard – that there was something deeper there to explore. Is there a purpose to pop music? Has there ever been? What’s the purpose of a paper plate? That last question was the easiest. You use them because you don’t want to have to do dishes, because you have a lot of people to share food with, because you are outside at a picnic with other people sharing memories and no one wants to worry about breaking dishes…the list was endless, but the overriding theme that caught my attention was that paper plates aren’t useless. They have a very specific purpose, and the things they leave behind are not the paper plate themselves, but the conversations, the memories, the feelings – and those are highly valued.
So…I wrote a song. This blog post is simply the lyrics to that song. Exploring the idea of Paper Plate Music. Perhaps, if we see it for what it is and not what it isn’t, the value can be explored all unto itself - and that is completely worthwhile.
Paper Plate Music
music & lyrics by Kat Reinhert (c)2016ExergueMusic all rights reserved
I’ve heard the stories on the radio
They say music is dying
But when I look around this room
I say that it’s fighting
There are those who say it’s worthless
Four chords can’t make things last
I beg to differ ‘cause from what I hear
Free Bird is flying fast
Some people call it Paper Plate Music
Like discardable memories
But I hear people singing Paper Plate Music
And it sounds like family
Take all the writers and singers of old
They did with what they could
Told their stories with what they had
Their soul and a piece of wood
Where would we be without the sound
Of so many songs we know
If we didn’t have a voice to cry
Four dead in Ohio
So they may call it Paper Plate Music
But it stays in our memories
‘Cause people been singing Paper Plate Music
All through history
They’re not disposable and it's not weak
To let the story have control
To get inside of you and dig down deep
Soak into your soul
People been making Paper Plate Music
For as far back as I can see
And people keep singing Paper Plate Music
In perfect harmony
So we’ll keep on making Paper Plate Music
And we’ll keep our memories
And we’ll keep on singing Paper Plate Music
With perfect harmony