Human Dynamics

This blog is normally devoted to subjects related to music and ways it can be used to benefit people. This a little bit of a diversion into the world of public art.  The installation of public art is a lot like the public performance of music, except it has greater sustainability. 

Dayton has just installed a new sculpture called "Fluid Dynamics."  It's all about air and wind and water and hydraulics and aerodynamics and movement and flow.  You can read more about it  here  and here. 

Here is a photo of me interacting with Dayton's newest public sculpture.

I call the photo Human Dynamics because it adds the dimension of the human spirit to the culture.  In many cultures and languages, the concepts of breath, spirit and wind are closely tied together.  For me, it is the human spirit that is the most dynamic and fluid force of all.  The history of Dayton, the invention of flight, the construction of canals, are all examples what happens when the human dynamic interacts with natural dynamics. 

On an aesthetic note.  I was prepared to like everything about the sculpture except the color.  Before I went to see it, I thought it should have been either a more natural or neutral color related to earth, stone or wood.  I would have settled for it to blend in with urban tones of black or gray, rust or steel.  The yellow seemed to be too much.  But then I went to see it.  When I viewed it from the north, I could see the bright colors of the Neon Theatre behind it.  When I viewed it from the south, it had a garden background in which were sprouting...daffodils.  I am forced to somewhat grudgingly concur with the choice of color.  Well done.

Seasons of a Music Venue

"To everything; turn, turn turn
There is a season; turn, turn, turn,
And a time for every purpose
under heaven."

You can give credit to the Byrds, Pete Seeger, or Solomon, but either way, there is wisdom in these words.  Canal Street has had an incredible 30 year run.  Kudos to Mick Montgomery for a job well done.  He has created a legacy that is a permanent part of Dayton history and culture.

But now change is upon us.  The social media has been buzzing with rumors, gossip, and the articulated worst fears of those who love what Canal Street is and what it represents.  TV screens?  Heaven forbid!  Blenders?  Sacrilege!  And it suddenly occurs to me that my bar going rock and roll friends sound a whole lot like my Sunday morning church going friends sound when a new preacher comes to town.  All the new reverend has to do is utter the word "change" and a holy war has been intiated.  Take out the old church organ?  Heaven forbid?  Drums in the sanctuary?  Sacrilege! I have been part of this conversation many times and I find it interesting and mildly humorous to hear the same arguments used when a, shall we say "revered," secular music venue changes hands.

Allow me to make a simple observation.  There is no canal at Canal Street.  The old canal functioned, ironically enough, for about 30 years. It then sat unused and decaying for 50 years until it was covered up in 1927. Technology and progress had left the canal behind, so it was abandoned.  Patterson Boulevard Canal Parkway, on the other hand, is looking quite spiffy these days.

Far too often, preservation and progress are set up as antagonists.  The thinking is that one must be embraced and the other rejected. The truth is that preservation and progress can be partners and friends.  One could argue that they are the yin and yang of development and growth.  Preservation, left to itself, leads only to the death of thing which was to be preserved.  Progress, left to itself, has no sense of direction or motion.  How can you know if or where you are moving if you have no sense of where you have been? Preservation and progress joined together give sustained life and health to organizations and institutions.

In December of 1981 Mick Montgomery wrote in the CST Newsletter No. 1, "I have been warned that Dayton cannot or will not support a small intimate music club, but I don't agree.  Too many friends and acquaintances have given up on the local bar/entertainment scene for one reason or another-sometimes because of the lack of commitment on the part of the club to maintain and emphasize an environment conducive to listening to music as a communitative art form.  Hopefully the Canal Street Tavern can fill a void.  And hopefully, those of you who haven't been "on the scene" lately will find something here to interest you. I believe a discerning audience exists who will enjoy an informal "come as you are" place where they can relax and enjoy artists and their music."  Obviously, many things have changed in 30 years, but some things have not.

When I was in Canal Street Tavern last week, I heard someone describe it as "tired." I think that was a good description.  Good things of a certain age naturally get tired and that's okay. When it happens, one of two outcomes will occur. Either the old tired thing will cease to exist, or it will be renewed by a new generation.  This new generation will have energy and and some of its own ideas, but it will also have  the DNA, history, and upbringing of its forebears. It can achieve preservation through  progress.  My challenge to the new owners of Canal Street is this, "Honor the past and embrace the future." Do what is necessary to insure another good 30 year run.  My challenge to the "children of Canal Street,"  to those who have been shaped and molded by its influence is this. Support the new owners as much as you can.  I realize that it might not be the same.  It's pretty certain you won't like all the changes.  But keep showing up.  Bring in a friend, listen to a new band, and have a couple beers.  Regale them with stories of how if used to be when you were younger.  Become part of the history and legacy.

But if you can't do that, then go out and create the new version of what Canal Street would look like if it was started in 2013.  Like Mick 30 years ago, I don't agree that Dayton won't support a small intimate music club. Or even a medium sized one. And I don't intend to give up on the local entertainment scene either. Thanks Mick for all you've done. Pass the torch.  Take a break.  Go have a beer. We'll drink to another 30 good years for Canal Street.

Why You Should Attend an Open Mic

At an open mic, you can hear your community set to music. 

This is what makes it special.  There are plenty of good reasons to pay lots of money to hear a highly paid celebrity perform music that you know and love.  That is a good thing to do and you should do it often.  But the person you are paying to hear, the "professional," is probably not like you and probably not from your community.  Maybe they were at one time, but now they have become something else.  We can admire them and desire to be like them.  We can appreciate their ability to enter our world and enhance it.  But at the end of the concert, they return to their world and we return to ours.

At an open mic, the person you are hearing, usually for free, is like you.  Or they may be like somebody you know. Heck, they may be somebody you know.  They are from your community.  Like you, they will drive home after the show and sleep  in their own bed.  Tomorrow morning they will wake up and go to work, maybe at the same place you work. They live in the same social and geographical environment that you live in and they want to sing about it.  It may be a cover tune or an original song, but the desire to sing it comes from the same social context that you experience every day.  At their best, they are amateurs.

I found the following definitions of an amateur in an online dictionary.

1. A person who engages in an art, science, study, or athletic activity as a pastime rather than as a profession.

3. One lacking the skill of a professional, as in an art.

 

Definition number one is accurate as far as it goes, but I think the word "pastime" is a bit misleading.  Many of the open mic performers I know regard their day job as a pastime.  Performing their music in front of a live audience is what they live for.   For others, it is recreational, in the sense that it "re-creates" them.  It refreshes their spirit and gives them the strength to deal with the daily struggles of life.  If by pastime you mean something that makes the passage of time more bearable, more enjoyable, or more exciting, then I suppose the word is adequate.  I have watched people cry, get goose bumps, dance, shout, sing and walk out offended during open mics. It does help pass the time.

 

Definition number three may be accurate in some cases, but there are many open mic performers who have been, or soon will be, professionals.  Either way, they consistently demonstrates skills comparable or superior to the level of many professionals.  Being a professional is not just about your skill level.  Technically, being a professional means you get paid to do it. Open mic performers generally don't get paid.

 

Which brings me to my usage of the word amateur.  The derivation of the word comes from the latin amator, which means  "lover, devoted friend, devotee, enthusiastic pursuer of an objective." It is in this sense that I use the word.  When you see someone performing onstage at an open mic, they are usually motivated by love, not money. What you are witnessing is an act of passion.  The skill level may be high or low.  The artistic expression may be one you enjoy or dislike.  But there is no denying the fact that the person on stage has something that they want, or perhaps need, to share.  Otherwise, they would be at home, playing for their own enjoyment in their own living room.

 

Since the idea of sharing is central to the open mic experience, there must be an audience.  And this is where you come in.  If you are planning to be part of the audience at an open mic, Here are some suggestions on how to make the event more enjoyable.

1)  Be engaged.  I believe that open mics are ultimately social events.  You probably came with friends.  You might have come to support a friend who is going to perform.  It's okay to talk to each other and have a good time. But try not to distract from the performance.  There are lots of places where you can go to hang out with friends that don't have live performers.  You won't hurt a jukebox's feelings by ridiculing it's song choice, quality or volume.  But you are in a place with a real person on stage.  Make eye contact with them every now and then.  Smile if you like what they are doing. When the song is over, respond.  Polite applause is always appreciated.  Clapping and cheering is even better.  At the moment when the song ends, the person on stage is exposed and vulnerable.  Open mic performances are a conversation. The performer has said what they had to say and now they are waiting for your response.  Give them one.

2)  Be supportive.  To put it bluntly, the performer on stage doesn't need your crap, so keep it to yourself.  Granted, they chose to get up on stage and share what is going on inside them.  But you chose to come to a venue with live music.  You might not like or appreciate the performance you just shared, but you can still show respect for the performer. Sure, you can be verbally abusive, and you might even persuade the performer to never, ever get up on stage again.  But is that what you want to do?  Is that the effect you want to have?  What if that was your friend, or brother up there pouring their heart out? How would you want them to be treated?  What if it was you up there?

3)  Be generous.  Open mic performers may aspire to be artists, but at the end of the night we are all just beer salesmen. The club/bar/venue hosted an open mic hoping to make money.  If they don't make money, or worse lose money, they will eventually stop hosting.  Nothing personal, its just business.  So when you go to an open mic, BUY SOMETHING!  And don't forget to tip the wait staff and bartenders.  They also are part of your community and they are working very hard for not a lot of money.

I believe that open mic events are music incubators.  They are developmental in ways that are similar to school music departments and performing arts organizations.  They have different pedagogical philosophies and values, but if you want to find the raw, bleeding, cutting edge of musical creativity in your community, go to an open mic. 

Or better yet, get together with a group of your friends.  Appoint the most qualified person to be the designated performer.  Encourage them to schedule a time slot at an open mic. Then go with them and support their performance.  Art doesn't get any more personal or community oriented than that.

Musicking in Dayton

It was an event that almost defied description.  As the participants arrived, it was difficult to tell what they had in common.  And yes, they were participants, not an audience.  Some were dressed for a formal event, men in the obligatory black bow tie and cuff links, ladies in black sequined dresses.  Others were men well passed retirement age, with shoulder length hair, boots, jeans and cowboy hats. Musicians came with instrument cases.  Parents came with children.  As they entered, they were greeted by a well-dressed doorman, a rented security guard, and a man with dreadlocks playing a steel drum. 

            The inside décor was every bit as eclectic.  In the entrance were tiki torches on either side of a giant stone face that could have come from the statue of Ozymandias.  The wall to the left was decorated with a variety of musical instruments that ranged from primitive folk instruments to death metal guitars.  They were hung over one bad ass West Coast custom motorcycle.  The right wall featured tombstones being the names of the establishments that had previously inhabited the building, but had gone out of business.  The date of the last departure was 2011.

            The  diversity of the people and the décor served to give context to the performances that were taking place in the room.  Only a few of the performances were happening on the stage.  On the left side of the room, the man behind the bar was engaged in making an ice sculpture.  Simultaneously, a fire dancer was entertaining the guests on the dance floor.  Simultaneous performances in fire and ice? Perhaps it bordered on cliché, but it was compelling nonetheless. On the balcony to the right an older lady was rendering a seaside Italian villa in oil paint.  Next to her a younger lady was painting the Tardis from the Dr. Who series.  Most of the guests would have been able to identify both paintings.

            The onstage performances were meant to be the aural expression of the other activities and they succeeded in doing so.  The beginning sequence was approximately as follows:  a tenor aria from an Italian opera, followed by Native American flute and drums, followed by a young female singer/songwriter.   After her performance the guests were brought to their feet by a blues band featuring a Dobro player, a guy playing harmonica, and an accordion player.  At one point in the performance, a slightly inebriated young female participated by pounding on the large ceremonial African drum that was placed in the middle of the room as part of the décor.  Blues jam meets drum circle, and the musicking cycle is complete.  Christopher Small would have been proud.  Unfortunately, Christopher Small passed away on September 5, 2011.

            In the beginning paragraphs of this paper, I purposefully chose to use the word “participants” and “guests” as opposed to such words as “audience” or “spectators,” for this is what they were.  In a Christopher Small inspired ethnographic analysis of a musical event, the question must be asked, “What exactly is going on here?” Simple observation would not have revealed the common thread that united the financiers and the fashionistas with the roofers and the rockers, but there was a relational connection between them.  That relational connection was Greg.

            Greg is the owner of the venue and the host of the event.  Greg is a lover of art and music.  Greg was also the guy playing the Native American flute and the guy playing harmonica with the band.  If Christopher Small was right, if music is all about how we structure relationships, then Greg had succeeded in creating his ideal world, if only for one evening.  He was surrounded by the art, the music and the people he loved, and all of those elements were interacting with each other.  Whether he knew it or not, Greg was musicking.

            The remainder of this paper will consist of an attempt to lay the philosophic foundation and academic structure behind the event the reader has just experienced vicariously.  Greg, the host of the event, was just following his heart and pursuing his passion, but in doing so he was engaged in an activity that has deep roots, and a promising future.  Hopefully, this paper will satisfy the curiosity of the scholars and feed the appetite of the sociomusicologists who value such events and long for them to be more commonplace.  

Finding Your Artistic Voice

One of the most important but difficult things I've encountered in my recent journey as a musician is the process of finding my voice as an artist.  For most of my life, the content and style of what I've performed has been determined by external forces; sometimes by the audience, sometimes by the organization.  Usually I'm playing in a group that has a predetermined sound or style and my job is to blend in with it.  That's okay, I don't mind blending in and I'm fairly good at it.  And its given me the ability to perform a very wide variety of styles.

But as a solo artist, or as a singer/songwriter it's different.  Now I can write or sing anything that's within my ability.  There's a different set of questions.  I started with questions like "What will get me some paying gigs?"  The entertainer in me asked, "What will this audience respond to?"  The artist in me has been slow to answer the questions, "What do I want to say?" and "How do I want to say it?"

For the moment, the songwriting has been taking the lead in artistic development.  I've discovered the sad truth about myself that I don't really rock.  When I started doing some serious songwriting, I wrote upbeat songs so that I would have something to play that would go over well with the open mic bar crowd.  These songs are holding up pretty.  But now I'm writing more personal songs and they seem to going in a old country/roots/americana/bluegrass direction.

I'm asking myself, "Why?"  Why is the Johnny Cash, Bill Monroe, Dwight Yoakam influence coming to the service? I've performed at the Schuster Center and Carnegie Hall with the Dayton Philharmonic Chorus, but I find myself feeling more comfortable at little bars and clubs.  And retirement homes.  Go figure.  I think that in spite of my aspirations and illusions to the contrary, I am a commoner.  Common as dirt.  That was my upbringing, and that's my preference.  I like hanging out with common people.  I despise things that reek of arrogance or pretension.  I guess it shouldn't be a surprise for it to show up in my music.

Celtic Traditions

This picture is from the Dayton Celtic Festival.  I play accordion for the band Sons O'Blarney.

You can find out more about the band here.  www.sonsoblarney.com

We've been playing together about 7 months.  When we started I didn't know any celtic music.  I like it well enough, but had never aspired to play it.  Now I like it.  Why?  It may come as no surprise that it's very conducive to getting audience response and interaction.  Since we do traditional Irish tunes, many people know all the words and sing along with us.  Some of the songs have long established traditions for when you are supposed to clap and shout responses to the band.

With the last name of Makofka, I grew up with polkas; ethnic music with Eastern European associations.  But I have to confess that Celtic music is every bit as much fun to play.  It can be fast.  ie crazy bluegrass fast.  As you can see in the picture, we don't have a fiddle player, so I get to play the fiddle parts.   It has been wonderful for my technique and dexterity.

Two of the songs we sing, "Finnigan's Wake" and "The Night that Patty Murphy Died" are about death and Irish wakes.  There is something healthy about including these subjects in music.  The Irish tradition for approaching death is rich and instructive.  I'm not Catholic or Irish, but if someone wants to have throw a wake for me when I'm gone it's okay with me.

Audience Response: Winning Over the Holdouts

This week's musical adventure was at Hidden Meadows Day Camp in Centerville, OH.  The high point of the show for me was that a kid who saw my show two years ago remembered that GNIROB is BORING spelled backwards.  For more information on this concept, go to www.mrmusicmaker.com

Notice the little girl in the yellow outfit.  Look at her body language in the first picture.  She has decided she is NOT going to be participating.  This was during a song where everybody makes animal noises. (technically, pet sounds, with references to Elvis and the Beach Boys)  By the second picture, she has soften a little.  This song is a dance contest between the grown-ups and the kids.  The adult leaders at the camp were GREAT and made it fun for everybody. (note:  They were great leaders, not necessarily great dancers.)  By the third picture she is in full motion.  Yes, the accordion is out and they are dancing to the Beer Barrel Polka.  What can I say, it's effective in multi-generational settings.

I point this out to support my idea that audience response is significant.  There are some artists who are so into their music (and themselves) that they probably wouldn't notice if the audience left while they were playing.  And some audiences enjoy being musical voyeurs; watching, but not participating in intimate exchanges between an artist and his music.  But for me, I'm looking for some response to let me know the music is getting through.  I'm trying to win over the holdouts who have walls of resistance to whatever effect I am trying to produce with the performance.

If you are going to music to benefit others, you have to participate in a circle of response.  You put your music out there and notice the audience response.  Then YOU respond to the feedback you are getting from your audience.  This puts the music in the context of social interaction and makes it more than just entertainment.  I believe this gives live music a greater therapeutic advantage than prerecorded music.