The Icing

My friend John recently posted a link to his favorite music videos for the year. I especially liked the one he ranked second, Battles' Atlas. The video portrays musicians playing in a glass box floating in space. They are really focused on their playing and singing--not performing for the observer (us). The clever concept serves as a reminder of the value of art to the creator and participants. Yes, they're probably excited to have an audience and lots of hits on YouTube, but really music is an art form, more about exploring different modes of self-expression than it is about adulation (or so I'd like to believe).

When I was about 8 or 9 years old, my neighbor and best friend Lucia Cluff and I had a "band." I'm hesitant to share what we named ourselves, but here I go . . . we were "The Groovy Two." We weren't a cover band; we wrote our own material. There was our theme song, "The Groovy Two," which I only vaguely remember, and another song called "Airplane, Airplane," which was greatly influenced by "Leaving on a Jet Plane." We'd get up on the wall of the courtyard in front of my house in Tempe, Arizona and give concerts to neighbors and family.

As I grew older, there were times that I'd dream of being in a rock band. I didn't really need to be the focal point of the band, but I did think it would be fun to sing, perform, and otherwise be engaged in the process of creating music. After I learned to play the baritone ukelele, I'd sit in my room playing and singing--and sometimes performing for the family at Christmas or family reunions. As an adult, I subscribed to Rolling Stone magazine and would stay up late to read it, forgetting my fatigue as I read about music. When I started earning more money, I spent a lot of it going to concerts. Music played an important role in carving out an identity that I perceived as being out of the mainstream, an aspect of my identity that continues today.

Last night, I watched the movie, "Once." In it, two people meet, talk, and make music together. One is a street musician and the other is a Czech immigrant whose life is defined by the practicalities of making a living and raising a daughter. Their meeting allows them both to explore their shared interest in making music. It's a lovely, understated film--one that unfolds slowly and subtly. The more I think about the film, the more I like it. I especially enjoyed seeing the joy they both felt as they explored musicianship.

I'll never be a rock star, I know that. But that's beside the point. After watching the film last night, I sat down at my neglected piano and played. I didn't play long, and I didn't play well. But I played with delight.