If, four weeks ago, you asked me if I would ever quit music, I would have told you that I was planning to within the next year and meant it. I was still committed and working hard (I have a project to do!) but I truly couldn't see myself continuing beyond that point; I had, in many ways, lost sight of the value of music.
I was sceptical even when I arrived at the festival, a bit burnt out and cynical, very unsure of my place. However, being let loose in a contemporary art museum (love you, MASS MoCA) with a bunch of the most sensitive, passionate, all-round-gorgeous musicians in the world turned this around easily within our three-week stay.
Every member of faculty shared a generous approach to leadership and guidance, and together they each contributed strands of wisdom that, I feel, built up around me like a net. The lessons they taught were not about how to hold your instrument, or how to contort your body to achieve the right sound, but instead were things like: you don't have to do any work that is in conflict with your values if you don't want to, there is something in all of us that makes what we have to offer unique and valuable, and look here at this extraordinary joy there is in making sound! Freedom! We could see in front of us such a broad scope of possibility to live a musical life and see the successes that are still possible when stepping out into the unknown. We were encouraged to ask ourselves what a meaningful musical life looks like to each of us, to examine the musical world around us and come up with our own solutions to the problems we see that can invite others into the same, refreshed spaces. And, we were all reminded that we were there because we believe in music, and we have something that we need to say with it.
I was sceptical. I heard this and wanted it to be true but wasn't sure if it possibly could be. But then, over the course of the festival, I was gifted moments where it was. First, it was improvising with my Like Magic trio, where my gorgeous friends and collaborators effortlessly held space for one another, sonically and extra-sonically, and afterwards, everything felt right. Then it was playing at the Chalet, not knowing what was going on in one moment to the next, but not wanting to miss out on a second of making sound anyway (side note: G# will forever be the most hilarious pitch to exist). Next it was being allowed to try Todd's electronic rig, and honking our way through the Orchestra of Original Instruments - both expansive experiences that were a gift of imagination. And finally, approaching the end of the festival, I realised in full force that I had a piece that I needed to play; I couldn't hold a conversation or think of anything else until I could share it with someone. Then, when I got to play it, the feedback was affirming in the most Bang on a Can way possible, underneath the lights of the cosmic latte. I need to make music! I couldn't possibly quit!
I've been thinking a little in the days since getting home about why I love music. I love music because I love sounds, like cicadas and violas and peoples' voices and moving objects and laughter. I love music because I love curiosity and creativity and learning, and I love music because it feels good to do in my body (at least, when I'm not worried about my classical sound). I love music because it can tell stories, and it can invite us into understanding the world in new ways, safely and meaningfully and empathetically. But most of all, I love music because it has the power to create community.
You see, the real magic of the Bang on a Can festival was the other fellows. I didn't know it was possible to fall in love with thirty people in less than that many days, but it is. The people I spent my time with at the festival are all adventurous, curious, generous, sensitive, and thoughtful, and they've made me realise that I don't have to go forwards into the unknown on my own. Together, we created a community of support, celebration, witnessing, and empowerment; I've found the people who will take that next unknown step with me.
So, what comes after this three week period? Here is my commitment to myself and to those I met at the festival:
I will explore new areas of practice, simply for the joy of doing so. I will compose, collaborate, improvise, record, experiment and expand. I'll immerse myself in tech and see what happens. I will keep an open invitation for anyone who wants to do this together.
I will make music for my love of community.
I will become a string player with rhythm and groove. Clapping games, here I come.
I will figure out how to improvise within a harmonic structure, even though chords are scary.
I will shift my focus towards the artistic practice that I want to have, not the one I feel is expected of me. I will try to answer that question: what does a meaningful musical life look like to me? I will practice for the sound that I want and the embodied feeling that I want, and trust that this will be of value to my community.
When I feel shaky about what I'm doing or why I'm trying, I'll pick up the phone and speak with the people I know get it. Thanks for the lessons and the good times, Bang on a Can.