The woman you see in this photograph had to do a lot of self talk before performing her latest show...
She is suffering from SIRDs - Societal Induced Reluctant Dreaming.
Note the somewhat reserved look on her face combined with great focus and determination in her arms and hands. What you are observing is a young bird learning to stretch her wings and ruffle her feathers. What her mentor and dearest friend calls - unleashing the Monster.
In a few days I will be turning 27, which marks the 20 year wedding anniversary between the Monster and her Music. A while back, during one fateful trip to Winnipeg, my dad re-claimed his
1950s Jumbo Acoustic Guitar from his younger sister. My Aunt Justine had given her "Musical Prodigy Sons" the opportunity to plunk away on the guitar as a form of recess from their very regimented piano academy education. When my Pa realized the little brats were pawing away at his first and oldest musical instrument, he slipped it into the family van before heading back to Alberta on the No. 1 Highway.
The ride back was as memorable as the first informal guitar lesson from my dad. The next 20 hours were full of firsts:
1a. Making acoustic sounds in a moving vehicle while drinking in the prairie scape and powder blue sky - music and movement is so powerful and spiritual.
1b. Open Tuning. Dad tuned the guitar strings to an open C chord so that I could bar the frets and strum like a crazy little thing. I realize this was very smart on my dad's part, simply because to all those listening on, all notes sounded major and somewhat melodic...
1c. Song Writing. The old guitar and the movement together, made me feel like an old hobo. Which inspired my first lyrics. "When I first came to Calgary, I strapped some wheels on my guitar so I could be a big, big star...Uh huh, um hm, oh yeah..."
After that, the monster was born, only to battle with me for another 20 years before I finally fed her properly and showed her the light. My future brother-in-law explained that an artists' craft lives in the swamp, to the lay-person this is their gut or their belly. All the air comes from the swamp, the soul lives their amongst the mess and the music. Once you acknowledge the mess, there is an acceptance that one simply wades through it, sometimes going under, but inevitably finding a warm spot in it.
Then last week when my friend Maggie was counseling me about a show I played during Canadian Music Week, she said plainly, "Just sing with the Monster." I confided in her that the show felt like a flop because I was so affected by my surroundings and I felt vulnerable on this huge stage. My gear wasn't working and by the time I went on we watched about 150 people bleed out of Lee's Palace. But the worst part was knowing that such crap doesn't matter. I was disappointed in myself because I just wasn't
myself. Which got me thinking who is she?
According to Maggie, the Monster in its natural state just knows, doesn't hold back and does not listen to societal conventions. Such information tugged on my heart strings because I instantly recognized what I was bringing to the stage and what I was ignoring within myself. I was acting like some haggered, emotion-less worker - a reluctant dreamer. Throughout my years of guitar playing, singing and songwriting, I have pretended to be a good student, a community worker and a teacher. I have a section in my closet solely devoted to my attempts to work as a full-time worker with collegues and professional development. Beleive it or not, I have 12 more weeks as an Educational Intern and Community Service Coordinator at a private school. Now for others this is a respectful path, for some of my peers, this would be a magical career path or portfolio builder. For me, it feels like I'm steeling this opportunity from someone who would truly benefit. This is someone else's dream.
All the while, within me I see colour and hear sound, feel peoples excitement and worry, sense purpose and things through song. Things that translate into music and lyrics. So I struggled to live the life of "Full-time worker bee Holly" and the life of the "Monster in her musical swamp". Which resulted in a CMW show that flopped. Good. There has to be a breaking point that led to the inevitable discussion about the Monster.
So I listened, and I sensed her, and by March 20th, I stepped onto the stage again. The Brothers Elliott and I traveled to
Avening Hall in Creemore to open for the Monster of all Monsters,
Fred Eaglesmith. But this time, I was in the swamp. Amongst the mess of Fred's tangled patch cords and pedals I sang for Fred's audience. And she spoke, she sang, she played, and she was surprisingly funny and polite. So the Monster can stay.
Now what about the other characters? Like the 1950s Kay guitar or the bratty Piano Playing cousins? Well the Monster in me continues to harass my folks about rescuing the Kay guitar from their basement in Calgary, maybe this story will be the final envelope to push them back to their senses...
As for the
cousins, like anyone on recess, the boys both dropped piano playing after completing all 12 grades in piano lessons, only to totally fall in love with Ibenez 7 string electric guitars, Dream Theatre and 1970s Fender Stratocasters with over-sized headstocks. One more reason to beleive whether you like it or not, the Monster in you will find a way to come out. Just be warned, it will feel like a mess at first, but then you will find a warm spot in it. After 20 years...I love you
Monster.
Mom and I used to make the trip to the Husky Oil out on Perimeter Highway. The hum of the diesel engine would lull me to sleep. I was four years old. I don't know if this was just one day, or a mix of little outings on different days, but my memory is fixed with images of mom and I in Winnipeg...
