when i wrote and recorded THAT MORNING SOMEDAY (you can hear it below) it was wistfully about any beginning…any beautiful or cloud-striated sunrise…any hopefulness…any new day. my big brother had died and i was yearning for the peace of understanding, a feeling of being ok in the world, a wish to wake up to something that had given order to chaos.
many many years later, i can’t honestly say that i always have the peace of understanding or a feeling of being ok in the world and i often wish to wake up to something that has given order to chaos. someday is still out there.
only now, a little older and the tiniest smidge wiser, i realize someday is waiting too long. someday is right now and i am sitting right in it, with lots of time behind me and, hopefully, lots of time in front of me. the only thing that really counts right now is right now.
i yearn to make it more peaceful than my last moment. i step in the world, ok or not. i try to help create order out of chaos. maybe someday it will all come together. but in the meanwhile, i will do the best i can in right now.
heidi and i performed together for years at innumerable oncology and cancer survivor events. heidi is a breast cancer survivor and speaker and we wove her spoken words and my songs or instrumental music into performances of celebration, of gratitude, of honoring…performances we cherished together.
heidi would speak of a lazy river she had been in. how, without doing anything, you just become part of the river…tubing on a slow river is like that. no real thought, just meandering in the flow. like life, it’s easier when you don’t fight the currents.
there is something, for me, about gathering riverstones. we gave them to everyone at our wedding – to mark that each person is part of the river of our life. these beautiful riverstones – the way water created a smoothness on rock…years of the flow has worn down the rough edges, made a beautiful patina. i’m hoping, maybe, i’ll be just like that.
on our work table in our sunroom we have three wedding invitations. each one is beautiful, sent to us by the children of friends or relatives. it is that time, when the next generation is marrying. we are excited for each couple and celebrate with them, whether or not we can be at the event with them.
when we were choosing a piece of music for this ks friday, we decided to honor these celebrations of love-found with the song AS SURE AS THE SUN. (scroll down to listen) it is our hope that in each of these couples they are, “in for the long run, forever…safe to be who (they) are” and that, in that universe mystery of ultimately finding each other, they are loved “as sure as the sun.”
listening to this piece i wrote and recorded in the midst of the AND GOODNIGHT ~ A LULLABY ALBUM, i am reminded of moments with my babies, The Girl and The Boy. I WILL HOLD YOU FOREVER AND EVER…oh yes. moments in that rocking chair in the nursery, moments gently dancing to marvin gaye’s‘i heard it through the grapevine’ in the sitting room (oddly, the only song in the early days that would quiet The Girl to sleep), moments holding hands and walking, moments of hugs of joy, of hugs of encouragement, of hugs comforting hurts, moments carrying boxes into dorm rooms, moments painfully driving away from the places they each live across the country. it does not matter if i can wrap my arms around them. i will – forever and ever – hold them.
this is on the lullaby album for just those reasons. the album is a compilation of old lullaby songs all performed solo piano; it was a project of love.
but this piece of music could just as easily been on an album of love songs. a while ago i thought about a wedding album and this would have been a track. for as i think about the comfort of being held and holding another, the holding-on-tight-dancing-in-the-kitchen, the letting-go of everything as you embrace, the end-of-day laying down together, the wherever-you-are-there-i-will-be of love, the exquisiteness of understanding the words ‘forever and ever’, i can see where it plays a dual role. for, yes, we hold all who we love and have loved forever and ever.
i could hear the saxophonist on the corner out the window; it’s not uncommon in nyc. at yamaha artist services to record the two solo piano hymn albums, i was caught up in the christmas carol he was playing, only a little concerned that it would bleed onto the recording. the amazing “it’s fine!” ken can handle anything.
my task was to get onto tape (so to speak) the material for both of the hymn albums: ALWAYS WITH US Volume 1 and ALWAYS WITH US Volume 2. it was easy for me to compile a list of the hymns to play; so many years of church music gives me an advantage that way. but on every album, even if it is music i haven’t written but am giving my own voice to (like the hymn albums or christmas albums or lullaby album) i always include one or two pieces that i have composed – a signature of sorts. for always with us volume one it was the title track. ALWAYS WITH US is a statement of my belief that we are never alone, we are always surrounded by infinite grace and love – God is always with us. like all the tracks on the hymn albums, this piece is solo piano.
part of that time in the city, i also recorded the album AS IT IS. i had a list of titles and in-between recording hymns, i would take out the list and simply play the word. but i’ve talked about that before. this album was a personal creative challenge and took on a life of its own.
back in chicago, in post-production work, ken wrote orchestration arrangements (he is brilliant) and brought in musicians to record on tracks for the AS IT IS album, starting with the solo piano recordings. these new tracks went beyond the solo piano versions – in texture, in diversity, ultimately, in emotion.
yesterday i wrote about process in david’s painting. the same -yet different- process exists in recording music. the coming-together of layers, with what is in a layer below sometimes hidden, a breath you can’t hear, but can feel. i am awed by what the whole becomes from the whole.
always with us exists in two forms. both are relevant to the album they are within. both speak a language. but both tell the same story – for those who listen – that we are never alone. God – or whatever you call this presence- is always with us. and if you listen, maybe with your mind’s eye, you might even hear the strains of a saxophonist on the corner in the city at night.
ALWAYS WITH US – on the album AS IT IS
ALWAYS WITH US – on the album ALWAYS WITH US VOLUME 1
with the advent of ancestry kits and accessible dna testing, we are a society of people with more desire to learn about our individual heritage. for christmas, The Girl and The Boy each got a dna testing kit from their father. i’m excited to hear the results of these. it’s fascinating to me to find out what our roots are; despite some specificity flaws and rounding up (or down) of genetic heredity in the testing and reporting kits i have read about, it is still interesting to know just a little bit more about where we come from.
my sweet momma and poppo traveled to salt lake city to work on the genealogy of our family. they spent hours in the library there, researching. they would have loved the idea of simply submitting dna to find out a broad spectrum of heredity, of lineage, but i suspect they still would have traveled to work on this the old-fashioned way, looking for names of family and how the branches of the tree spread out.
without doubt you have seen the commercials for these tests. my favorites are the ones where people find that they were either mistaken about their ethnic heritage or they found that there were some surprises. the best part is that – and i know it’s a commercial, but hey, i’m gullible – they embrace learning about this new part of their identity they had no idea existed. they embrace something different. they want to celebrate ethnicities they knew nothing about. why not celebrate these whether or not it is a part of our heritage? maybe we can make the legacy we pass down one of inclusion and acceptance and a curiosity to learn and welcome others, whether or not their dna matches ours.
as much as i like black and white, NOTHING is really quite black and white.
we walked the tax stuffff into the accountant’s office this morning. it’s been over 20 years that i have been keeping precise records for the company that is my recording label: sisu music productions inc. this company (like me, like any of us) has seen its ebbs and flows through the years. some of it was due to economy, some due to personal reasons, some due to technology and the internet changing every professional musician’s life, some due to the matter-of-fact financial challenges on any independent recording artist.
while i was compiling all the information this year, i had many conversations with d about how i was feeling. at one point, he turned to me and said, “this is like reading your calendar at the end of the year, isn’t it?” mmm. yes. a cruise through the year in my life as an artist with albums, an artist who has spent time on the radio, on stages, on wholesale show floors. some years that ramble-through is exciting; some years that ramble-through is disappointing. there is always back-story behind the activity, the sales, the decisions. it’s not black and white.
i stand here in march, 23 years after the release of my first album, touching the very very black of my piano and the very very white of the scrap paper i use so often to write on, and look out ahead of me. i wonder where – in this arena of my life, this heading, this column – i am going. the view from here is foggy and unclear. do i have albums to make? stages to play on? my end-game is different now – it has to be; i am 23 years older than i was back then – at the beginning. i can only wonder if the music that is still a part of me, still inside me, never yet hitting anyone’s ears as a finished recording, will find its way, will find relevance, will lead me into the next. it’s not black and white.
i used to spend a lot of time driving across the country to wholesale shows where i would represent my cds and sell to stores everywhere that stocked music. the world has changed since then and not only are there less boutique-type shops with original work (inexpensive copies have taken over), but there are few shops that actually sell physical cds. in this world of downloading (read: streaming, but don’t get me started on THAT subject) it is hard for a proprietor to invest in anything they aren’t sure will fly out the door.
when i drove east with a vanload of boxes and merchandise, i would pass a lake called meander lake. i looked forward to these signs and the view of this lovely lake through the trees. the word “meander” conjured up images of every time i had taken the time to do just that: meander. on a back road, on a trail in the mountains, in the woods in a state park, along the lake, through a magazine or book, or in my mind’s eye. i am a meanderer. i believe i come by it naturally; my sweet momma loved meandering…any day she would suggest a car drive or a bike hike to some distant spot, meandering on the way. she wasn’t afraid of getting lost; for her, meandering WAS the meaning in the time spent.
sitting at yamaha artist services in nyc i had a list of titles i had collected, words that had spoken to me or touched my heart. “meander” was on that list. with “record” on, i simply ‘played’ the word “meander.” the amazing “fine” ken orchestrated this piece back in chicago, bringing in musicians to add tracks.
sitting next to me right now, david just listened to it. the richness of that orchestration wrapped around me and i was back on I-76, jotting down on a scrap of paper the word “meander.”
years ago i was commissioned to write for and perform at the annual breast cancer symposium in san antonio, texas. after talking with the producers, i had gathered enough details to know that this symposium is a very big research event in which new research is both shared and celebrated, at which researchers and physicians from all over are honored. these folks are often the people in the foreground of new advances but the background as far as survivors and lay-people knowing who they are. it was from that place that i wrote this song.
a couple of years after that, lance armstrong was leading the tour of hope across the country. despite his more recent fall from grace, there were countless good people working on this tour of hope – bicyclists riding across the country with big rallies in various cities – to raise awareness for cancer and celebrate survivorship. i performed alongside my cherished friend and breast cancer survivor speaker heidi on an out-of-season gorgeous day in october in downtown chicago at the block 37 on state street park that is now a high-rise. lance was there and was laser-focused and passionate in his support of cancer survivors. at the time, i was honored to work with him and i credit that day with meeting my dear friend scordskiii, his photographer, who brought many a laugh and hours of conversation during subsequent years when i really needed both.
this song is personal for me. the moffitt cancer center in tampa, florida used it as a thank-you in a hospital-wide video to the staff for their work. for me, their efforts included extending my poppo’s life 12 years beyond diagnosis. i was proud and honored for this song to be featured.
in the last two decades, heidi and i have performed all over the country at innumerable oncology events together (walks, runs, survivor celebrations, conferences, hospitals, cancer centers, churches, memorials): she, speaking from a survivor’s viewpoint; me, performing songs i have written to resonate with these events. each event has been a shining light for us.
as i listened to this song YOU MAKE A DIFFERENCE the other day, i realized, once again, that this is not a song dedicated to one effort, to one fight. it is a song that is dedicated to any effort in which people gather together in community to fight against darkness, whatever that darkness might be. it’s for the people in the foreground, on the front line. and it’s for the people in the background, not looking for any credit whatsoever, just looking for change…good change. it’s for all the people we don’t know who walk, strike, write, argue, research, march, petition, and present clear options to the light.
this week i would dedicate this song to those young students who have risen up from the pitch-darkness shooting at marjory stoneman douglas high school in florida. to have a voice. to bring light. we are all proud of you. you make a difference.
one of the first things i told david when we spoke was that “i don’t do nutshells.” he had asked me a question and framed it with, “in a nutshell….?” i laughed. it is not in my dna to do nutshells. none of my family is good at nutshells. my big brother always told a long long story, filled with minute details. he was brilliant and it was always truly fascinating to listen to him. my poppo was the same way, when you got him started. my sweet momma, well, she was a practiced tangent-story-queen. and my sister? suffice it to say she is much like me in story-telling. 😉
i love a good story. i WANT to hear the details. i WANT to see ALL the pictures, not just a few. i WANT to know what-happened-next. it’s the same way i will tell a story, winding all the peripheral stuff right into the very crux of the point, as if it all mattered and carried the same weight, which, of course, isn’t always true. there have been people in my life who have said, “get to the point!” (which i have to say is not a fun thing to be told; it deflates the storyballoon inside one’s heart and makes you lose track of what it was you were trying to say in the first place.)
i blame growing up on long island as well as dna. people tawwwwwk there. they will go on and on. and interrupt each other. and go on and on. it’s great fun following a conversation that way – you are never bored. perhaps a little blurry on the story-point-edges, but never bored.
it’s a long story is the first piece on the album this part of the journey. it starts off with a lift and has a cello line i wish i had the ability to perform. the amazingly “fine” ken produced an album for me that has withstood time. originally recorded in 1998 on a CFIIIS, this is still my best-selling original instrumental album. we were in the studio for long hours, sometimes as long as 23 hours at a time. but we were moved by our studio musicians and their performances on each track and it was easy to summon the energy for this emotional album.