Butterflies and Kisses
Happy New Year! It's January 3rd, and I'm finally back home (Montréal). Today was spent in Luc Boivin's studio (www.studio.tapageur.ca) recording with Quebecois/Moroccan artists Hassan El Hadi and Sabah Bounit. They are currently working on Hassan's album, and today he had guests in such as Quebecois Trad Icon Yves Lambert (Bottine Souriante & Le Bébert Orchestra-www.lapruchelibre.com/lambert), Bambara Trans mastermind Khalil Abouabdelmajid (www.bambaratrans.com) and I. The day was "quietly spent" recording tracks, hanging out in the studio and chatting over coffee and fast food.
Being back home actually had an impact on me. For the first time I realized that perhaps...just maybe...I was feeling "At Home" like most people would define it. Whereas in the past, I never quite felt at home in the environment I lived in: raised in Calgary, I was still being told to "learn how to speak english you immigrant" even though I was perfectly fluent in both languages and oh so Canadian. This left me feeling like I definitely wasn't at home in Calgary, so I had come to define home as "my own personal home...my home within" (with a motion towards the heart). Returning to live in Montreal along with the extensive touring/traveling in the past years has continued to solidify my idea of "home within", mostly as a coping mechanism for artists and future generations to pull themselves together in the midst of cultural, geographic, social and emotional states of displacement. More and more people in the world are experiencing this today, so it's only natural to adapt. But back to Luc Boivin's studio, and the friends & peers I found myself amoungst...
I felt "at home" with them simply because they provided me with familiarity and a safe feeling. This was due to a combination of the following ingredients: common shared space (recording studio), common shared interestests (music), a project bringing us together (Hassan's CD) and most importantly, a solid foundation of past experiences shared amoungst each of us. This group today is a microcosm of a larger community of Quebecois/Canadian/International artists that have been criss-crossing in and out of each other's projects, shows, and lives for a long time. It's through this network of memories and work stories that we are brought together and feel "connected".
Being home brought me back to reflecting on the Montreal Jazz Festival 2008 show we played with Amanda Mabro this past summer (www.amandamabro.com). While in Europe, I suddenly became aware of being disconnected from my femininity and I suddenly longed to confide in a female friend...someone who felt my language. Years in the music business has turned me into an Egg: cold and hard on the outside (for the freelance female musician must be a supremely virtuose playing machine better than any male counterpart to simply be seen as: "a good musician"), and at the same time within this egg shell holds an oh so soft, warm and fragile being. Laugh if you will, the result is a career and no personal life. No personal life is in a way...no home. No "home" is the saddest thing that could happen to a human being. Having met Amanda Mabro and working with her for barely a year now, Amanda's warm and emotional spirit forced me to open up.
The night we played the Montreal Jazz Festival was the closing Saturday night of the event. Amanda was scheduled to play from 8-9 & 10-11pm on the Rio Tinto Alcan stage. Although it was a prime time spot, I was in denial and nonchalantly went shopping at Complexe Desjardins minutes before we were to do soundcheck. Once on stage, I only noticed the ocean of people after the first song, when a roar of clapter & screaming pushed the energy we had put out from onstage 20 fold back into our faces. That evening, I would later find out that each set we played was witnessed by 20 000 people. The energy from the mob was intense...A long long time ago I lost the feeling of Butterflies in my stomach (that you get from being nervous before a show). But adrenaline plays tricks on your mind. Maybe those Butterflies had flown away from my stomach decades ago...but a new feeling emerged: a dry mouth, sweaty hands and the tingling feeling of kisses in the palms of my hands. At the end of the show, it was announced that Amanda would be signing CDs. I wandered around a bit before meeting up with her and the band at the tent. The line-up was incredible, and I was accosted by people who recognized me from the show. A couple teenage girls completely freaked out and were jumping all over me. Once things calmed down, everybody in the band, along with their significant other, started making their way to the metro. I remained alone; remember...no personal life. We took the metro to our respective homes, agreeing that we'd meet up at Boule Noir to celebrate this important evening. High from such an amazing show, adrenaline still running through my system, I opened the door to the empty apartment. I crashed. The evening went from total joy and adulation, to an unbearable loneliness. I had arrived "home", but in a way...to no home. For somewhere in this whole equation of success, I had forgotten to build close love & friendships outside of the working music environment.
And the point of this story? omg...are you still reading this blog? Well, a lot of reflecting on how to create healthy balance between work and play. So the Hollywood ending is as follows: Since then, Amanda & I's connection continues to grow, I try to spend more time hanging out with friends who aren't professional musicians, and there's always those wonderful moments when you find yourself in a studio with a bunch of old working buddies and think to yourself: "I'm happy to be home". May you all have a beautiful year of 2009, full of butterflies and kisses.
Being back home actually had an impact on me. For the first time I realized that perhaps...just maybe...I was feeling "At Home" like most people would define it. Whereas in the past, I never quite felt at home in the environment I lived in: raised in Calgary, I was still being told to "learn how to speak english you immigrant" even though I was perfectly fluent in both languages and oh so Canadian. This left me feeling like I definitely wasn't at home in Calgary, so I had come to define home as "my own personal home...my home within" (with a motion towards the heart). Returning to live in Montreal along with the extensive touring/traveling in the past years has continued to solidify my idea of "home within", mostly as a coping mechanism for artists and future generations to pull themselves together in the midst of cultural, geographic, social and emotional states of displacement. More and more people in the world are experiencing this today, so it's only natural to adapt. But back to Luc Boivin's studio, and the friends & peers I found myself amoungst...
I felt "at home" with them simply because they provided me with familiarity and a safe feeling. This was due to a combination of the following ingredients: common shared space (recording studio), common shared interestests (music), a project bringing us together (Hassan's CD) and most importantly, a solid foundation of past experiences shared amoungst each of us. This group today is a microcosm of a larger community of Quebecois/Canadian/International artists that have been criss-crossing in and out of each other's projects, shows, and lives for a long time. It's through this network of memories and work stories that we are brought together and feel "connected".
Being home brought me back to reflecting on the Montreal Jazz Festival 2008 show we played with Amanda Mabro this past summer (www.amandamabro.com). While in Europe, I suddenly became aware of being disconnected from my femininity and I suddenly longed to confide in a female friend...someone who felt my language. Years in the music business has turned me into an Egg: cold and hard on the outside (for the freelance female musician must be a supremely virtuose playing machine better than any male counterpart to simply be seen as: "a good musician"), and at the same time within this egg shell holds an oh so soft, warm and fragile being. Laugh if you will, the result is a career and no personal life. No personal life is in a way...no home. No "home" is the saddest thing that could happen to a human being. Having met Amanda Mabro and working with her for barely a year now, Amanda's warm and emotional spirit forced me to open up.
The night we played the Montreal Jazz Festival was the closing Saturday night of the event. Amanda was scheduled to play from 8-9 & 10-11pm on the Rio Tinto Alcan stage. Although it was a prime time spot, I was in denial and nonchalantly went shopping at Complexe Desjardins minutes before we were to do soundcheck. Once on stage, I only noticed the ocean of people after the first song, when a roar of clapter & screaming pushed the energy we had put out from onstage 20 fold back into our faces. That evening, I would later find out that each set we played was witnessed by 20 000 people. The energy from the mob was intense...A long long time ago I lost the feeling of Butterflies in my stomach (that you get from being nervous before a show). But adrenaline plays tricks on your mind. Maybe those Butterflies had flown away from my stomach decades ago...but a new feeling emerged: a dry mouth, sweaty hands and the tingling feeling of kisses in the palms of my hands. At the end of the show, it was announced that Amanda would be signing CDs. I wandered around a bit before meeting up with her and the band at the tent. The line-up was incredible, and I was accosted by people who recognized me from the show. A couple teenage girls completely freaked out and were jumping all over me. Once things calmed down, everybody in the band, along with their significant other, started making their way to the metro. I remained alone; remember...no personal life. We took the metro to our respective homes, agreeing that we'd meet up at Boule Noir to celebrate this important evening. High from such an amazing show, adrenaline still running through my system, I opened the door to the empty apartment. I crashed. The evening went from total joy and adulation, to an unbearable loneliness. I had arrived "home", but in a way...to no home. For somewhere in this whole equation of success, I had forgotten to build close love & friendships outside of the working music environment.
And the point of this story? omg...are you still reading this blog? Well, a lot of reflecting on how to create healthy balance between work and play. So the Hollywood ending is as follows: Since then, Amanda & I's connection continues to grow, I try to spend more time hanging out with friends who aren't professional musicians, and there's always those wonderful moments when you find yourself in a studio with a bunch of old working buddies and think to yourself: "I'm happy to be home". May you all have a beautiful year of 2009, full of butterflies and kisses.
posted by BRIGA at 3:50 AM
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