Musical Back and Forth

Ever heard of Belle Chen? Neither had I until recently.

A pianist. She creates complex engaging sounds at the keyboard. She interweaves nature sounds with her recordings.

I’m listening to whale sounds in the rendition of her current composition at the moment. Earlier she used synthesizers in a piece.

I read that Chen’s piano training took place under a number of teachers in a number of different locations as her family moved around quite a lot. First to New Zealand from Taiwan. Later to Australia.

Those various musical learning teachings shaped her unique piano playing style. I imagine her inherent musical talent and inclinations shaped her musical expression as well.

She is Taiwanese-Australian. She was a first generation immigrant in Australia and the first pianist in her family. She is now based in London.

She is 35 years old.

When we are growing up, we look up to and are influenced by the established talent out there in the world. My musical tastes were initially influenced by the big band sounds of the 40s. Glenn Miller. Artie Shaw. Duke Ellington.

And the superstar solo artists of the time. Frank Sinatra. Peggy Lee. Andy Williams. And the great Ella Fitzgerald. My parents were a little older than the norm. It showed in the music that shaped them and ultimately us, too

I watched both of them suffer culture shock as cultural musical tastes shifted from the big band vibe of the 40s to Elvis Presley in the 50s, then Beatlemania and the onslaught of rock bands in the 60s and 70s.

Even my father became an avid viewer of the Sonny and Cher Show in the 60s. Mainly, I think he liked how Cher looked and dressed.

For a while, it was our time in the music world. Pink Floyd, Jefferson Airplane, The Who, Fleetwood Mac were claimed collectively as our own personal minstrels. Or so it felt at the time.

For years, we were masters of and awash in the soundtrack of our generation. It was the music we played on our phonographs. Yes, our record players. It was the music we rocked our heads to when it came on the radio.

Joni Mitchell and Carole King were my personal musical heroines. I spent hours listening to their evocative tunes with others in university lunch rooms. I would listen to them through headphones all alone in my room with silent appreciation and gratitude.

These were my ladies and cheering section. They sang what I was feeling and comforted me.

This morning I met Belle Chen on Apple Music. I was searching the classical music section for a soundtrack to accompany my day. After looking her up online, and seeing her eclectic musical background, I opened up her musical offering. I am now a devoted, if emerging, fan.

Belle Chen is my daughter’s age. I note that I am now looking backwards at emerging musical talent out there.

The mainstream musical stage has shifted beyond recognition to my ears. Its artists are often multi-talented and have to create elaborate music videos to accompany their sound.

Today’s young artists are taking hold in my psyche. I am already a fan of rappers Bad Bunny and Doja Cat. Meghan Thee Stallion has caught my eye with her flashy television ads as much as she has with her music.

Ed Sheeran is a longtime favorite. And even he is likely getting too old to count as “fresh talent”. any longer.

The musical guard has definitely changed. The great musicians of my generation are being installed in musical halls of fame. Or they are already dead. Or dying.

Or they are enjoying a great revival as Joni Mitchell is. She is currently enjoying her first number one hit on the Billboard charts. She has been “rediscovered” after a mature and moving rendition of Both Sides Now at the Grammy Awards recently. She composed that song in her twenties.

I sit and watch the passing musical parade. I take pleasure and comfort from what I hear and what I can choose to listen to. I was never a head-banger back in the day, like many of my peers. If I wish to revisit the music of my or any other generation, I just have to hit up the internet.

Seeing my girl Joni’s star rise again in a new generation is a wistful and delightful development. “Ye shall know them by their works.” It was a Bible verse meant to apply to distinguish good people from bad.

Joni is certainly known by her works. Her lyrics sit in my head like prayers. She used her talent prodigiously on this Earth. I, for one, am mighty glad she did.

Now I don’t only have to look back to revisit her genius. I just have to turn on the radio.

Today’s young people, years from now, will be able to do as I do now with my 70s favorites. They can call up any of their favorite music and musicians at any time they want. Spice Girls, anyone?

Playing for Change

I watched a music video tonight. It suddenly opened my eyes to something I’d never quite understood before. (Ironically, the song was called “Doctor My Eyes.”) I instantly understood why music (and art) generally is so threatening to power.

Playing for Change (https://www.playingforchange.com/home2) is a movement created to inspire and connect the world through music. Though separated by geography, countries and culture, music is a common language that can be shared by everyone.

Last night, a new Playing for Change video popped up. I watched in amazement as American singer Jackson Browne sat in his California studio accompanied by about fifteen accomplished musicians from around the world.

As Browne sat at his piano and sang his 1972 hit song, Doctor My Eyes, he was joined by video links with singers and musicians from around the world playing on sitars, an African grass piano, rain sticks, electric guitars and their own voices. The music was amazing as is the PFC message. “No matter where we come from, music helps us overcome our differences.”

The insight I had is that power is maintained in this world through deliberate separation and compartmentalization. Op. cit. apartheid. It’s easy to understand why that appeals to power. Smaller groups are easier to control.

Staying small and disconnected from each other diminishes the ability for members of different groups to get to know and understand one other. “Fear of the other” kicks in and defines many inter-group relationships.

Simple miscommunication and misunderstanding underpin many interpersonal and global conflicts. Even social conflicts: think racism and anti-Semitism. The more disconnected and separate groups remain, the more isolated and vulnerable they are.

I think back to how naive I was working in a government bureaucracy.

They sentenced me to twenty years of boredom, trying to change the system from within … Leonard Cohen https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/First_We_Take_Manhattan

I was appalled by the redundancy and waste in so many different branches and divisions. They were often devoted to many of the same tasks without communicating between themselves. This frequently caused problems when one group’s findings or directives or priorities conflicted with another. Yet it went on all the time.

How much more sensible and efficient it would be, I reasoned, if these groups worked together toward a common goal. And that was when I learned about “silos.”

These disparate bureaucratic groups between departments or in departments were called “silos.” Each “silo” is headed up by someone like a director or manager. The hierarchy is fixed. How much time and energy did I waste creating organizational charts!

Silos exist in organizations like a government bureaucracy and they will always be there for a simple reason. There are those who like to be in control. There are others who like to be controlled. They are two distinct personality types.

The two are attracted to each other like moths to a flame. Their respective positions are distinct and well-defined. It gives both of them a sense of certainty and security. The thinking seems to go: “I am the boss and you are my underling. As we both agree on that, we will both get our needs met and contribute to our mutual well-being and security.” As long as we both obey the rules….

But life isn’t like a carefully constructed organizational chart. There is no absolute fixed hierarchy in nature, for example, in which roles remain rigid and inflexible. Roles fluctuate with age and death and the local geography and weather conditions and supply and demand.

Life is actually messy and surprising and random. Usually only as we get older do we come to understand and accept that. There is never going to be an immutable, safe haven. At best, we have all agreed to a tacit and self-serving civility to maintain our stability and security as we know and expect.

From years of travel, I became familiar and comfortable within many different cultures. The rukle was pretty simple: “Treat others as you would want to be treated.” That worked around the world for the most part.

For many years, I eagerly sought out foreign culture and experiences. I have met people for whom this is the very definition of a nightmare.

People regularly travel to foreign countries, but usually in ways that support and mirror the standards and expectations of their own culture. Bus tours. Cruises. Biking adventures. All with people “just like them” and amenities “just like home.” Super structured. Super safe. And sorry, but super boring.

I have happily travelled the rough and ready way. Slept on a dirt floor in a Nepali hut. Camped on the open tundra in the high Arctic. And, my favorite, in a life preserver box on a ferry crossing across the Atlantic. In smelly canvas tents on a horse trek across the Andes. Once had to sleep in those smelly tents in the middle of a snowstorm.

Each of those experiences changed me in ways I don’t suppose I’ve even yet fully realized. I only know I remain open and curious.

Playing for Change seeks to expose viewers to different cultures in less immersive ways than actually being where the musicians are. But this is not a Carnegie Hall concert experience.

Sitar players sit and play on rattan chairs on the edge of a jungle. Black Jamaicans play guitars on the side of a street with broken pavement. In Argentina, an accordionist plays to the rapt attention of two little girls sitting on and looking up from two tiny, little chairs.

Unstructured. Messy. Unpredictable. Each and every one different.

All beautiful. Such a gift to be able to share in that experience.

Play on, Playing For Change. You are doing such a good thing.

Dear Abby

From the Facebook Wisdom of Life Community

This query from an overwhelmed Mom popped up on this Facebook group I belong to. My answer to this writer’s call for help generated positive feedback on that site. I thought it might be worth sharing. (The inquiry is anonymous so I am fairly sure I haven’t breached any ethical boundaries.)

Not so long ago, I could have written a similarly themed post. On the other side of those dark days now, I wanted to share insights with her that helped me. Healing deep emotional damage is a marathon, not a sprint.

In my answer, I borrow shamelessly from the advice column stylings of Ann Landers and Abigail Van Buren. They were sisters who doled out daily nuggets of hope in “advice” columns published back in the middle to late 20th century in newspapers across North America.

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Writer: I am suffering from severe treatment-resistant depression and anxiety. I am in the middle of tapering off Valium and having an extremely hard time getting off of it. I’m in a loveless relationship for 20 years with four kids. I have no job or career and nothing to call my own except for being a mom. I’m scared, lost, and have no support system. My dad died in September and I was disowned by my mom and family so I only have one sister left. I’ve spent my life caring for others and not being cared for myself. I’m in a deep dark hole with no way out. Nowhere to turn. Can’t sleep. Can barely function. And very moody. My only time to myself is when the kids are in school but soon they will be home all summer and I don’t think I can handle it with the way I feel. I just need someone to love and support me. And I don’t have that. How do I navigate my way through this?

Answer from Margot Brewer: I have been where you are (but with two kids). Identifying your misery is a healthy start. That may sound contradictory but it isn’t. The journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step. You have to start learning to love yourself and truly believe you are worthy of love. You have lived without love in your marriage for a long time. When you have a long history of want, it is hard to conceive of another way of being. You have a lot of healing to do. Losing your Dad and your family are massive losses that need to be acknowledged and grieved. I lived through that, including the estrangement from the family. Be ever so gentle and compassionate with yourself. Look around your life and decide what you can and cannot control. Find something in your world every day to be grateful for. Make a gratitude jar. This may seem flaky. I get that. Do it anyway. And start taking extra special care of yourself every day. Carve out space in your downtime to do things that make you happy. Music, books, nature, gardening. Anything that gives you even slivers of joy and gets you outside yourself. It is a long road to get out from underneath the weight of your life but you can by holding on to the belief it can change. I still take some medication for occasional relief but it is only part of my self-care routine, not all of it. Thank you for your post. I hope you find the strength and belief in yourself to feel better. It may take a while but the journey is worth it. Take good care of yourself.