For a really good preacher...

As might be evidenced by my last post, I'm a huge music lover. I'm especially enamored of singer/songwriters, I think mostly because I'm also a lover of poetry. There's just something about

Listening to music at home is great. I'm a big fan of car karaoke - playing a CD at top volume and driving around singing along. It's better than therapy. And it's really good to have background music for your life. I like to fall asleep to music. I like to listen to music while I walk, when I'm on the bus, when I'm knitting. But the best thing about music for me is going to concerts. As a performer myself, I understand the draw of both performing and being in the audience. It's something a friend of mine called "the feeback loop," where the audience gives the performer their energy, who then feeds it back to them, who feeds it back to the performer, etc, etc, until you have what I experience as a spiritual experience.

In my Sociology 101 class back at Mills, we discussed a concept that really captivated me: the sociology of God. The basic premise, as I understood it, is that when a group of people gets together and focuses on one thing, they create a presence, an energy, that is greater than themselves. Whatever this thing is, was the beginnings of what people called "god". I don't mean to discount religion, or to explain it away; I just want to say that this is how I experience religion and spirituality.

You can have a spiritual experience at any concert, but every once in a while you meet a performer who can truly channel that energy. I'd liken them to a really charismatic preacher - they know what the audience is reaching for, and they know that they're the link that can get them there. I remember the first time I was really able to put that feeling into words was when I was 19 and went to see the Butchies at the Bottom of the Hill in San Francisco. I remember how uplifted I felt through that whole concert. I still remember how it smelled, how Kaia looked from the front of the crowd, how the music sounded, how the energy pulsed through the crowd, through my body... I remember coming home and saying "that concert was a spiritual experience". I had a similar experience at the Erin McKeown concert - I think she might know how well she manipulates the energy of a crowd, and if she doesn't, she should. Concerts like those are transcendent - they are why I listen to music, why I go out, why live music is so important. If I can't afford it, I find a way to go.

I go to church for the community, but I go to concerts for the energy rush, the spirituality, the connection to god.

Put your money where your heart is

This is a call to action.

Okay, everyone copies, burns, pirates music. A friend has an album you like, so you borrow it from her, burn it, and give it back. You find your favorite band's latest CD at the library, so you check it out, burn it, and return it. Money is tight. I understand that.

But wouldn't it be cool if we each picked one or two artists that we will support wholeheartedly, never burning, copying, pirating, or even buying used? Someone who we only buy from when we have the money, but we make sure they get every penny for every song, because they're amazing and they deserve it. Wouldn't that make you feel good about yourself? Wouldn't it make you more invested in their music, and make listening to it even more enjoyable?

I know it is for me. First off, I really enjoy having the original CD, with album art and lyrics. There's just something wonderful about having it in my hands, and I like to take a new CD and sit in my room and listen to the whole thing in one sitting with the lyrics sheet in my lap, letting the music soak into me and getting the full effect of the lyrics. So I almost never pirate CD's anyway. But I never used to have a problem with it. Really like her music, but can't afford a CD? Just rip it from the library! No problem. But recently...

Okay, so I went to this concert last November that really rocked my world. I ended up going to it kind of by accident - I signed up to be on the street team for one of my favorite musicians, Chris Pureka, and I got an email back about five minutes later saying that they really, really needed someone to hang posters for the Erin McKeown/Jill Sobule show two days later. Well hey, I thought, I spend an hour of my time doing this and I'll get brownie points with the Chris Pureka team. The two free tickets were an added bonus, but I wasn't feeling very well that week and didn't decide to go until the day of. Anyway, I did end up going, and boy am I glad that I did. I absolutely fell in love with Erin McKeown's music, lyrics, and stage presence (especially the stage presence! Come back to Seattle soon, Erin!). I almost never buy CD's at the show, but I knew I had to have a copy of Hundreds of Lions right then. Got it signed, took it home, and really haven't stopped listening to it for more than a day or two since then.

A day or two after I got home from the concert, I went online and purchased a copy of "We Will Become Like Birds," another Erin McKeown album, from her website. A couple weeks after that, I bought two t-shirts. This was the first time in years, and I mean years, that I had bought any CD new (except for Chris Pureka's new EP which I got signed at her last concert), much less a band t-shirt. It got me to thinking, but I hadn't formed that thought yet until Christmas came and I received a $20 Amazon.com gift certificate.

Now, $20 is a lot of money for me these days, and the temptation on a huge site like Amazon is to buy as cheaply as possible to make it stretch. Knowing that I wanted a couple more Erin McKeown albums, I thought, well, they're pretty cheap if you buy them used, I bet I could get two or three that way, instead of one and a half. But I looked at them, and I stopped. How could I love this artist so much and not support her 100%? If I knew that my biggest fans were doing everything they could to not spend money on my work, I'd feel like shit. So I made myself a promise.

For my favorite artists, I vow to always buy their merchandise new and pay full price for it. I know I cannot afford to do this for every musician I come across, so I will put my money where my heart is.

Since I promised this to myself, I feel better about listening to music. I feel freer about extolling the virtues of my favorite artists. And I feel really good knowing that when I take my newly-bought CD's to the next concert, I can get them signed without feeling even the slightest twinge of guilt.

Can you make this promise to yourself? In an age when most music is available (if illegally) for free, can you choose the moral high ground and pay for yours? I don't think you'll regret it. If you read this, comment and tell me where your heart is.

The Happy Existentialist

We make our own purpose in life. Every choice we make brings on more choices, unfolding endlessly before us. Fenced by circumstance, guided by our desires, we move forward as we will.

Some believe in God, some in justice, some in truth.

I believe in me, and my power in the world to do good or ill, to have my life touch the lives of the people around me. I try to be a good person, to step in where I can, to make things easier for others. I like to have fun. I like sex, and music, and soft fabrics, and good books. I like to feel. I like excess. I like to go back into myself at the end of the day, to recharge and reflect.

I like to give. I like the surprise in someone's eyes when I give them something, do something for them, that makes them feel special. It makes me feel whole. I like to give nice surprises. I like to bake cookies and share them with everyone I meet. I like to give pleasure to people because I like to indulge myself so much. I like to share. Joy shared is joy doubled.

I like to lose control, to be in control, to see where things go. I like to see how other people's choices connect with mine. I like coincidences.

I believe that life is inherently meaningless, that its only meaning is what we bring to it. And I like it just fine that way.