Indecipherable
The CD release show came and went, all in all quite successfully. Except for my guitar battery giving out after the first song and an unexpected eternal span of minutes in which I was left to my own indecipherable sense of humor to charm the crowd until I could get my hands on another guitar, it went well. (Yes, the battery in my guitar gave out. Yes, silly me for not replacing it before the show.)
This whole endeavor has been a lesson in faith for me--trusting my community, trusting my own ability, trusting that things will come together. We took on a massive project by deciding to organize a plant sale as well as an album release. Oh, and not only a plant sale, but a plant sale and art show. We collected, painted, and prepared the pots. We dug and split and planted the plants. We assembled the "planted music" packages (hardly an hour before the show). We wrote and performed and arranged and produced the music. We showed up and sang.
By "we," I mean specifically these people, but many, many more: Dan Zamzow, Jake Staron, Rachel Price, Bethany DeLine, Maya Dahlberg, Garden Harbor, Mother Earth Gardens, Colin McDonald, Thomas Kivi, Kjersti Rognes, Meg Stinchcomb, Henry Allen, Emily Pflugi, Sean, Ryan, all the boys and girls of East Terrace Road, etc. So, so, so, so many people contributed to this effort.
I have been struck, repeatedly, by my luck at finding myself a part of such a generous and willing community. Out of nowhere, people have volunteered to donate their time and talents. The "Planted Music" event could never have happened without all that outside energy spilling over. I meant to gush about how grateful I was on Saturday night, while I had the microphone in front of me.
However, it turns out I am not so graceful in front of a microphone if I'm not singing.
That span of eternal minutes without my guitar was brutal. You wouldn't believe how scary it is to stand in front of a room FULL of people (disproportionately populated by unfamiliar faces) without a guitar in your hands.
Standing there without anything to hold onto, without a song to sing, I felt literally naked. It was the first time I have had so much attention directed at me, all at once, all in a hushed, anticipatory waiting game, as everyone stood there, their multiple pairs of eyes resting on my nervous body as I tried to think of something funny to say. I felt required to entertain these people who had scoured the city to find Corner Coffee (not even on the corner!) on the edge of downtown in the middle of Pride weekend in Minneapolis. Unfortunately, I'm really only funny to like three people in my life, and those include my sister and brother who only think I'm funny because they remember the origins of certain quirky mannerisms.
I think I told some half-funny joke about working with kids, but only those three people laughed. Actually, I can't be sure if the people out there in the audience-o-sphere were as uncomfortable as I was, but it seemed to drag on forever. Thomas (who can't decipher my humor but sometimes laughs out of pity), thankfully, let me use his guitar, which is identical to mine, and I told another half-funny joke about how Thomas only got a Taylor 110E because I did.
And when I finally had a guitar in my hands, I relaxed into singing. I could never be a stand-up comic or a improvisational actor. I love performing, but I seem to do much better with pre-constructed dialogue, or at least a plan. Songs, music--that's easy to perform. You know what to expect. Even if you are improvising while performing music, you're working within a system. You anticipate chord changes, melody line, harmony.
Those lucky people (my sister is one), who can pull out ten character parodies on demand, baffle and amaze me.
At least I know my limitations. However, I should really study the art of improvisation as a precautionary measure. If I am ever in a situation again where I have a roomful of people staring at me, expecting me to perform, and my guitar gives out, what will I do? Next time I will be prepared.
Maybe it's time to take that juggling class?
