I’ve got a friend who is perhaps, one of the finest keyboard players on the east coast. Though he doesn’t talk about it much, he’s also one the best drummers I’ve ever heard. He and I were on Skype one day not long ago. He was messing around in his studio and just for fun I asked him to hop on the set of drums that were set up in the corner of his room. He propped up his ipad on a music stand so I could see him. “Play a funk beat,” I said. And he did, he fu&*ing killed it. “Play some uptempo swing,” and he tore into a groove that would make most drummers look like children. “Play a rock beat,” “do a wild fill in 6/8,” “play a super fast ska beat…” I couldn’t help myself from laughing as I watched him gettin’ into it on the little screen of my iphone.
What I was seeing and hearing was fairly close to unbelievable. His playing made me feel the same way I did when I saw one of Prince’s first concerts in North Minneapolis in 1980. Just like Prince, my pal was merciless on that drum kit, profoundly skilled. And lest you forget, drums were this guy’s second instrument; piano’s his main thing.
A few years back he’d been complaining to me that it was hard being a musician; hard to make a living, hard to hold a family together, and hard to explain to anyone who wasn’t a professional player what it felt like to do anything resembling what he does. He told me some of his friends were investment bankers. They were making so much money that my friend felt small next to them. He admitted that he sometimes felt like he was less of an adult, perhaps less of a man, than they were. Sad, but there have been times in my own career where I’ve felt the same thing. If you’re a player, that’s how it goes sometimes.
My friend was having a hell of a hard time making ends meet at that point in his life. He wondered if he’d made the right choice in becoming a full-time musician. It’s a weird way to make a living after all, blowing and beating and strumming and pounding and plucking on things to make sounds. That’s basically what being a musician comes down to; you’re a tinkerer. A tinkerer who shapes sound waves. A soundwave-shaper.
What does it mean in the scheme of things, to be one of those people? I guess it depends on how and why you shape the sounds. The ones who do it well, who do it for the love of the sounds they make (and not just to show off their chops) are like modern day shamans. They are mystics who make beauty out of invisible waves. They can make you laugh and cry, they can make you dance and shout; make you get up off your feet and shake your ass like you’ve become a child all over again.
A profoundly skilled musician might not make the same kind of money as an investment banker, but what’s the ability to make music worth? What would you give to get up on a bandstand and blow the living shit out of a trumpet or a saxophone? What’s it worth to you to be able to sit down at a piano and bring the woman in the front row to tears with just your fingertips? How do you estimate the value of being able to wind out on a Stratocaster and sing a song that makes an entire room rise up out of their seats and be transported, if only for a moment, to a higher realm? I can tell you firsthand, just like I told my friend. The value of being able to do that is inestimable.
I say this for my brothers and sisters who have elected to become soundwave-shapers, who have given their time, their sweat, and their waking (and dreaming) hours over to this strange and hallowed profession: The world would be a mighty desolate place without you in it.
We’ve got all sorts of people walking around looking for answers, looking to be moved, looking to feel something beyond the normal work-a-day rhythms of life. People who are looking for a sense that they, that we, are part of a endless and integrated system, part of an ongoing history that moves through time as if on the crest of a colossal wave.
Most musicians may not be making much money plying their trade these days, but none of us ever set out with that goal in mind. If we had, we’d have become investment bankers. God knows I’ve got no quarrel with the bankers, I want them to be enormously successful – especially when they’re investing my hard earned money – but as they are judged by the size of their returns, we musicians are judged (or should be judged) on the ways and the depths to which we move our listeners.
To my friend, the piano player, and to all of us musicians and singers who might feel overlooked in the shadow of a music business that has been so dramatically disrupted, take solace in the knowledge that our success cannot be gauged by quantitative measurements, as many other things can. Our worth is of a totally different order.
The assessments that are appropriate to us are the same as with any strong spiritual leader. They resonate with me as these: How have you moved your listeners? How genuinely have you made them realize that life has purpose and that our existence here on this planet is nothing short of a miracle?
“If music be the food of love, play on, give me excess of it…”
— William Shakespeare
Play on indeed.
12 thoughts on “For Musicians, Singers, and the People Who Love Them”
This comes at a great time for me. Thanks for putting into words, what I can sometimes feel. All it takes is a good vocal work out on stage, for me, and those feelings disappear.
You have a way with words… Thank
Patty, I just want you to know how much I’ve admired your work over the years. You my dear, are a bonafide star. If we’re not doing our thing then we fall back to Earth. May you be blessed to stay aloft.
Without music, the world would b flat
Once again you have been able to gather a loose jumble of concepts and tied them together concisely and with, if not a happy ending, more light and color.
Wait… PJ, the ending is very happy. The musician is reminded that his or her place in society is exalted. What could be better?
We were created in the image of a creator, therefore creativity is an ancient language we all speak. So you do well to describe musicians as Shaman, for they speak in a dialect of that ancient language – a language designed to remind us of who we are and why we exist . . . so play on, indeed.
God love you man.
Thanks Jim. Means a lot to me that you’ve taken the time to write to me.
huxley–…”words…they are the smallest pieces of the mind that pass the narrow organ of the voice…the greatest remain behind in that vast orb of apprehension, and are never born..” glad
that you took the time to release a few of the good ones…as any musician worth his/her salt comes to realize….there is always somebody listening….
Shoe thanks for this! I like me some A Huxley. Be well, Peter
Don’t know how I missed this entry when you first posted it, but I may have been preparing for Christmas Eve and a trip to the Jersey Shore right afterward to commune with fans of the Bouncing Souls (one of my best friends among them). It’s partly because of her that my daughter & became Souls fans, and I fulfilled an item on my bucket list by getting to see them my first time with my friend and older daughter.
Peter, I have been a fan of yours for about thirty years now, and your music has done all those things for me that you’ve described, and more. My older girl, in her difficult teenage years, was brought to tears one night while listening to Skin. I know it’s done the same for me a few times. Music–your and others’– saved the two of us, and how can you calculate the value of that?
MCRMom, Thank you for this touching post. These days with all the infinite chatter, it’s a pleasure to be singled out for a good listening. Tell your “older girl” that I’m thinking about her and sending her blessings for abundant joy and success. You too! Please keep in touch. Peter