Hush Up When the Band is Playing
In April 2022 I started this Substack. Here I am, a year later, simmering in uncertainty. Simmering is okay — it’s slow-cooking. The main ingredients are in, the flavors are melding. I’m in a waiting period. Here’s a little piece about musical medicine while I stew:
Music — sounds eliciting feelings. A soundtrack to the home movie the day my parents brought me home from the hospital. Taking the El to Grant Park for Blues Fest in the summer. Witnessing Jonny Lang’s soul-filled Blues in a parking lot in Chicago (he was barely 16, I was almost 10). Magic. Musical alchemy coming to life before my eyes.
My tastes in music have shifted over time. Blues, oldies, classic, and alternative rock were the base on which I developed my love for pop-punk/etc. — finding new flavors and people in the local music scene: the Des Plaines Theater, Wheaton Grand, Knights of Columbus Hall, and the Elk Grove Park District. My cousin, Andy, was a gateway into many musical adventures. He got me started on ska/pop/punk, which led me down a rabbit hole of Lucky Boys Confusion, Swizzle Tree, 504 Plan, Penny and the Loafers, Empyrean —> Treaty of Paris, The Dog and Everything… and on and on. I stayed up way past my bedtime to watch Lucky Boys on the Late LATE Show:
Local music was easy to love and accessible. The musicians were (usually) nice, the shows were cheap, and many venues offered all-ages performances. From Chicago to Des Plaines to the corn fields of Dekalb, Illinois, a plethora of great acts have been within my reach. I’ve seen local and traveling performers in Arlington Heights, Wheaton, Elk Grove, Crystal Lake, Downers Grove, and Sugar Grove. Milwaukee, Joliet, Aurora. Garages in Buffalo Grove, back yards of Marengo.
I live in a musical beacon.
Coming out of the pandemic has me thinking about the music community. The impact of lockdown, changes in human patterns, the tenacity of deciding to make a career out of sharing music. Musicians decide to perform, venues maintain spaces from which to host, and audiences show up. Thank god for the music community. If it weren’t for a friendly member of a Street Crew in the early 2000s, I would’ve missed Rise Against at the Knights of Columbus Hall in Arlington Heights. Don’t tell my mom it was this much of a fuster cluck:
Musical Medicine & The Pandemic
I got to see an old friend of my cousin’s (Pete Jive) play in three different settings this late winter/early spring. Three distinct venues, performances, and audiences. A barbeque restaurant, a pub with a stage, and a dedicated performance venue.
To boil it down, I witnessed:
Music as seasoning — accompanying a meal or a drink, filling the room with sound, not demanding attention.
Music as an appetizer — familiar flavors getting everyone warmed up for what’s coming next, whetting appetites. Conversations continue, some clapping when songs end, saving room/energy for later.
Music as the main course — Look, listen, and shut up while the band is playing (or some other nicer way of saying — presta atención).
I didn’t expect to learn something about myself while I was there. The juxtaposition of these three shows made me consider the niche way I consume live music. Without knowing or being able to name it, I’ve always observed with intention. I go to see a performance, pay attention to the opening acts, and stay till the show is over. I’m a participant: chanting for encores, cheering when the wish is granted. Live music is reciprocal. I feed off the energy of the performers, and I give my energy and attention to our shared space. A little like Goldilocks, music as a main course is just right (hopefully I’m not also wrecking a Bear Family’s day in the process).
I missed live music throughout the pandemic. Like, a lot.
The last show I saw in 2019 was Nahko & Medicine for the People — sun setting behind the Chicago skyline, a late summer breeze blowing on my back from Lake Michigan. I had no idea that I would go into a deep hibernation in the period that followed — yet, I remember feeling whole at that show. Embodied. Grounded. Magic.
My first show of 2021 as I began to reemerge (the first time) was Dead & Company, standing on Wrigley Field, next to my cousin Andy and our friend Pete Jive. I don’t believe I’ll ever find the words to describe the feeling of that whole day.
I felt Whole that day.
A last-minute decision to join my cousin from Arizona at a show in the Friendly Confines, an encouraging husband making it an easy choice, and a venue packed completely full of loving, tie-dyed humans and an unexplained rainbow in the sky. Magic.
Further unfolding and ongoing healing as I continue to discover comforting spaces filled with musical creators and the audiences who love them. Wookiefoot, Wilco, Indigo Girls, and most recently: Pete Jive. From a quick meeting on the way home from 6 Flags in middle school, to a talented trio playing in a college town, and now a solo act playing all over Illinois. Magic.
What a gift, to get to partake in musical medicine in headphones, on speakers, through an instrument — coming to me live in a real human gathering space surrounded by other like-minded individuals. The Music Community.
Where is the Music Community now? I’m finding out one light at a time. Wanna come?
Take good care, ya’ll!
Love,
Jessie
Music....nothing else goes together with everything like music does.
For this obsessive, it makes my world spin and makes me twirl.
It moves me or makes me move.
Live music disappeared from our stages during the time no one talks about too much these days.
Many of my friends lost their inspiration and their livelihoods.
Some lost their lives.
Music moved to our screens as artists had to create and play and put a virtual tip jar out there for ya so they could make a dime.
Some lovely moments were given to us.
The John Prine Tribute was one of them. They only showed it for a limited time.
Todd Snider and his storytelling kept me smiling and warm.
How about Jorma Kaukonen playing from his Fur Peace Ranch?
Telling stories, selling merchandise, laughing with his partner who operated the vision machine.
Music is medicine.
Easing my pain through decades and amplifying my joy at other moments.
Live music gatherings are my community.
Thankfully it has returned and we can commune and conspire together again.
And
Dance!
My search for music continues on my Substack page where I broadcast what is new to me.....I hope people enjoy it.
I certainluy do.
Keep on truckin'.