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‘Tis a Gift To Be Simple…

Published at: 09:01 am - Sunday January 13 2013

I grew up in Shaker Heights, where learning that simple Shaker tune was a requirement in music class. It’s amazing how when you try to find out who you are, you always go back to where you started.

A lot has changed for me over the past year and a half; professionally, personally, and emotionally, and the one overriding theme has been simplification. Everyone’s life incredibly complex, full  of factors that shape every decision that no other person can fully know. Sometimes we don’t even know ourselves — but there are times when events coincide to force us into change, and we can either make that change for the better or worse.

So rather than espouse the usual mantras to simplify your life, I think I’ll use the changes in my sound to make my point. Not that I write these thoughts for anyone else to follow — these posts are more about figuring out my own pathways than to help others along theirs. But, if they happen to ring true, then perhaps they are worth the pixels they consume.

A dozen or so months ago, my rig included more pedals and gizmos than most lead guitarists. It was a small point of pride that I got attention for all the tools I used to shape my sound: a looper, reverb, delay, flanger, distortion, equalizer, compression,  and of course a pre-amp. I wanted to sound as different as I possibly could. I thought that using those affectations would give me the variety of tones that would make one song sound different from another.

Then the change began to happen. As with so many changes in our lives, it starts with something innocuous. A chance crossing of paths that leads you in a direction you never anticipated. Slowly, I realized that I had the sounds I needed at my fingertips the entire time –  I merely needed to trust myself that I could make them happen. The chaff of my massive pedal board began to fall away, one effect at a time, like an onion shedding it’s layers of skin. I’m now left with nothing more than a Paracoustic DI and a tuner. I still use the looper at duo and solo shows, and it’s a wonderful tool for a song or two, but never more than that. Seeing that I use it only to create music in the moment (nothing is pre-recorded — I do everything on the fly) I don’t consider it an effect as such. Just a tool to create harmonies.

So much of our lives run in parallel lines, if we take the time to look closely. I needed to find the core of my sound, and the core of myself as a person. I found that I no longer had to — or wanted to — bury myself in layers that diffused the sound. I needed to strip it down and make myself bare to find out what exactly was underneath. It’s not all about me, but about how I relate to those around me. I had to turn inwards to be able to be the person I, and the others in my life, needed me to be.

And I found that I liked that inner core — that tonality, that person — and that I wanted and needed to let all those layers fall away, leaving me with an exposed and stronger self.

Posted in: Gear, General Thoughts, Parenting, Performance, Perspective by Cathy No Comments

Cloaked in Swagger

Published at: 11:05 am - Sunday May 13 2012

There are so many ways that you can manage to undermine your own ability to succeed. You can create an impossible situation for success to exist, like ensuring that you never have enough time to devote to your goal. With this tactic, you end up talking about how much you want to achieve your dreams, but never actually take the time required to work towards its achievement. There is always something in the way or more important, but deep down you know that if it was something you really and truly wanted to do, that you could/would be doing it.

 

There is also the method of piling your plate so high with goals that you could never achieve them all regardless of how much time you spend.  In this case, you are taking the time and pushing towards completion, but guaranteeing that there is no way you could ever consider yourself a success.

 

And thirdly, and by no means lastly, you can talk yourself out of any success by making sure that you are never fully convinced that you can achieve it or that you deserve it, even when the evidence in right in front of you that you can and do. This is a challenging condition, one that  pushes you to continually strive for excellence, but never believe that it is or can ever be achieved. This is a guilty pleasure — allowing yourself to let those little voices that niggle away at your sense of self dominate and control your perceptions. It’s a gluttonous way to live, always feeling like your achievements are never enough, as if the food you eat can never satisfy. And ultimately, you know that it’s not correct. You know that you are better than you will allow yourself to admit, but you find comfort in the cloak of perceived mediocrity. It allows you to work hard without having the dread ego in the way, telling you that you are in fact, good enough. It’s a very Puritan approach that does nothing for your sense of self worth, and can be highly detrimental to your relationship with yourself and with others.  It’s an indulgence that simply can no longer be afforded.

 

Regardless of your goals, and more importantly, regardless of your level of accomplishment, be honest with yourself. There is nothing wrong with being good at what you want to do — and more to the point, there is noting wrong with enjoying your success. Revel in it while you are doing it — don’t hold back, and bring on the heat and burn it up! Enjoy every chance you are afforded to be amazing.

Posted in: Articles, Composing, General Thoughts, Parenting, Performance, Perspective, Press Materials, Songwriting, Teaching by Cathy 1 Comment

Being a Perfect Stranger

Published at: 11:03 pm - Sunday March 25 2012

There is an element of performance etiquette that many fantastic players neglect to remember — how to be considerate when sitting-in on someone else’s gig. All too often, folks who are incredible on their instruments show up to sit in with a band or other performer complete with a huge pedal board or other large footprint items, making their plug-in time an extended event and incorporating far more than necessary. I am very protective of my sound and tone, but when I am sitting in with any group, I bring just a tuner pedal and a preamp.

 

However, beyond the impression of imposition that showing up with every piece of gear you own can create, the other grave mistake so many wonderful players make is the assumption that they can instantly solo on a song they have never heard. Yes, many songs follow a predictable chord progression, especially if you are playing certain flavors of rock and blues, however there are a number of tunes written in the Americana and folk genre that employ a fairly standard set of chords in a non-standard order. Too often, both soloists and support sit-in players don’t take into account that they don’t have to be in the groove on the first note. Even if you are playing drums or bass, you can sit back and listen to how the chords and feel of the song is unfolding, and then come in with your addition.

 

Many times players jump the gun, thinking they have it all figured out, only to find that they have now thrown other core group players off their game and out of the progression entirely. Even the best solo players can fall into that trap and not take those few moments to listen through the verse and chorus and then be able to step in without stepping on the song. So many bands in general don’t value leaving spaces in their sound, giving the listener a chance to enjoy all the different aspects that the solo instruments have to offer.

So those of us who work as hired guns, stepping in when invited or simply needed, we must give every song the respect it deserves and the core band the opportunity to show us how it should be played. There will be plenty of time to shine and add our talents, preferably without detracting from the very music we are trying to enhance.

 

 

Posted in: Articles, Fiddles, Gear, General Thoughts, Performance, Perspective by Cathy 1 Comment

Easy On The Eyes

Published at: 01:03 pm - Thursday March 01 2012

I suppose it’s a compliment. They say that the way you know you are a good musician is if you make it look easy. I had a guy come up to me at a show last year and ask if he could play my fiddle. Mind you, I was aware he was drunk, but I asked if he played. His answer was “No, but you make it look easy and fun.” A huge compliment, but with a significant lack of social filters at the same time.

My point with this post is that if we are doing our jobs correctly — and you must know without question that it is a job — the audience should never see anything other than you having the time of your life making incredible music. That may very well be the case, and there is a lot of fun to be had standing on stage doing what we love. However, the parts that are not immediately obvious are the ones that get us a poor reputation with regards to the musician’s work ethic.

I’ve been simultaneously accused of working all the time (Facebook updates, changes to the website, speaking with venue owners or bandmates, practicing, rehearsal….etc) and partying all the time (gigs that go well into the night, meeting up with other musicians to network, open mics, jams, etc). All those things go hand in hand to create a buzz about you as a player. No one else can do that footwork for you. You have to be out there being seen by as many different people, players and venue owners as you can, all so that you can parlay that into shows and hopefully money somewhere down the line.

If we are doing our jobs well, the audience, spouses, friends and other non-players only see that we are up there smiling, connecting and making great music  — no matter what else might be going on in our lives. The music is seen as an outlet, an emotional release, and to an extent it is, but that stage is a place where you have to shove aside the fact that you aren’t feeling well, or had a shitty day, or a fight with your boss (because there is almost always another job somewhere in the mix) or that you’re depressed as hell. You may not feel like standing up there and smiling as if nothing’s wrong with your life, but you do it, you play it, and you make it look easy.

It’s a little bit of inside baseball here, but the truth. For the most part, anytime I have a fiddle or guitar in my hand is a moment I treasure. But they are not all moments I would want to repeat. So when you see a performer who connects with you, and makes you feel like you are a part of their music, you truly are — and you give back to them what they need in that moment: the respect for what they are accomplishing and producing, regardless of the personal cost.

And we thank you for that — it is worth far more than you could ever know.

Posted in: Articles, Fiddles, General Thoughts, Performance, Perspective by Cathy 2 Comments

Size Does Matter

Published at: 11:10 am - Friday October 07 2011

It’s amazing how a simple realization can change your whole outlook. For my entire playing career I have always thought that I had trouble with 4th finger intonation because I just didn’t practice it enough. I figured I was on the lazy side, and if I really valued it I would have spent the time long ago to really make it work. I was working with student on developing her intonation when I realized that my fourth finger on my left hand is a full 1/4″ shorter than the pinky on my right hand. This accounts for so much that I had not been able to understand about my playing.

Not that it is an excuse for being out of tune, but now I know that I need to adjust my playing due to a lack of reach instead of a lack of intent. There is so much that we are told along the way that we take as law, when in reality these concepts need to be adjusted to accommodate the individual’s physical peculiarities. I have another student whom we have discovered will be unable to play the 4th finger on the G or D string due to a wrist injury when she was younger. We will find ways around this limitation using position changes that we might not employ otherwise. Since we know what the issue is, we will find a way around it.

I suppose my point is that once you know what your limitations are, physical or mental, you can find a way to overcome them.

Posted in: Uncategorized by Cathy 2 Comments

The Cobbler’s Children Have No Shoes

Published at: 12:06 pm - Monday June 13 2011

We know that budget cuts are forcing more and more schools to remove or drastically reduce their music and art programs, even though there are significant studies indicating a direct correlation between increased math and science abilities and musical instruction. I teach kids of all levels and degrees of interest, but when it comes to bringing that life skill to my own children, I continually drop the ball. I frequently am asked if any of my kids play violin, to which the unfortunate answer is “No”. My oldest let me teach her for a little while when she was young, but she and I have extremely different personalities, and we did not do well as a student/teacher combo.

My younger daughter expressed an interest in learning fiddle, and while we did briefly start lessons, we also moved three times in three years and that most decidedly got us off track. She has now decided to play the cello in school (the one stringed instrument, along with banjo, that I do not play; OR drums. ) And while my young boy may have an interest, he’s little and we’ll see what develops.

I suppose what I find intriguing is that when it comes to other people’s kids, I have near-infinite patience to allow them to learn at their own rate. With my kids, I expect much more and tolerate less. Hence the concept that the cobbler’s children have no shoes — I spend so much of my time making the path easier for other kids (and adults) that I have not been able to set aside time to teach my children something I feel is valuable to know.

I don’t expect any of my kids to want to do what I do. I just want them to be able to experience the fun of making music. It is around them day in and day out, as I teach and practice at home. I guess I just have to make a point of (like so many other things) making it happen. It’s about time my kids quit having to go barefoot.

Posted in: General Thoughts, Parenting, Teaching by Cathy 2 Comments

Me, Myself, and I

Published at: 12:05 am - Wednesday May 04 2011

I have come to realize that songwriting has to be one of the most intriguing and gratifying things that I have ever done. I had no idea when I wrote my first song with lyrics how it would affect me. I found that I was incredibly protective of it. I did not leave snippets of lyric lying around, and waited a good week or more after making a rehearsal recording before anyone in the family heard it.

However, while no one else was being asked to listen, I could not hear it often enough. It’s as though every time I heard it, I expected that it was written (and performed) by someone else. I thought to myself “This person really gets me — This song completely nails the way I was feeling. It reflects all the things I was going through!”. Crazy, I know.

It almost felt as if I didn’t have much input in the final creative process, that it just sort of happened, and I was there to write it down. Words that were intended to fill spaces and create the right rhyme, ended up putting voice to feelings I had forgotten I had. Then, once I got the guts to play it for Jim, it morphed into the song it was meant to be. It needed his touch on the guitar, and the ability to help me find that one missing chord — the one I knew when I heard it, but had not been able to find. The words were done, but the feel and the pacing and ultimately the tone needed to be explored before it felt right.

I had never been able to express myself with words and music before. I honestly had not believed that I could do it. I guess in a way, it did sort of happen without me. It happened without my overwhelming doubt and criticism, and I have never been more proud of anything in my life. So, I listen to it and experience those feelings all again, but with the distance that only time and expression can provide. There are some lines that touch me so deeply that I worry whether I can sing them, but in the end they sing themselves.

I wonder if all songs make you feel this wonderful when they finally surface. I guess I’ll have to write another one and find out….

Posted in: Composing, General Thoughts, Perspective, Songwriting by Cathy No Comments

Don’t Bother Knockin’

Published at: 05:04 am - Thursday April 21 2011

I need some doors. I don’t mean the proverbial kind, like doors that lead to opportunities, I mean doors made of wood, or perhaps a combination of wood and glass. Maybe something with a nice bit of detail, or etching on the glass.

I have realized that while it’s great to push yourself beyond your comfort zone and self imposed limits, there is something to be said for feeling secure while you do that. Right now, my music studio is in what is supposed to be a front living room. Since our family room is right off of the kitchen and has a amazing view of the back yard, we saw no reason to have a whole room essentially set up as a parlor. Who has a parlor anymore? So I staked my claim, and since I have a ton of gear, it became my music room.

It’s lovely because it’s huge, and I can keep everything in one place, but there is no way to block it off from the rest of the house when I am working. This means that any time it occurs to someone (by which I mean “the children”) to say something, they are right there, in the room. Regardless of how minor or unimportant, it must be expressed immediately. This is the reason why I had to give up trying to teach out of our house and move my studio to Woodsy’s. I could not convince Logan that while I was working, I could not be interrupted unless it was a real problem.

So now I realize that in order to really be able to get any real work done, I need to be able to close myself off. This is one of the things I love about working over at Jim’s studio- not only is it soundproof, but when you shut the door, you feel as though you can make mistakes without the other poor folks in the house having to hear how much you mess up until you get it right.

I had a student this week who was struggling with her bow jittering for the first 15 minutes or so of every practice session. We talked about when and where she practices, she said she has been practicing in her living room, usually while her husband is sitting there trying to read. That would make anyone nervous! I swear that I find it harder to play in front of 1 or 2 people than I do in front of hundreds. I feel very exposed and vulnerable when playing for so few, especially people whose opinion I value.

So, I need some doors (extra wide, please — these door frames are huge!) so thar I can feel a bit safer while I push those boundaries of comfort.

Posted in: Gear, General Thoughts, Perspective, Teaching by Cathy 8 Comments , , , , , , ,

Why Buy The Cow….

Published at: 05:04 am - Wednesday April 13 2011

Recently, I was having a conversation that I have had several times over the course of my career. Always with different people, but the gist is the same: why is it that people who would not ask for free merchandise from a craftsman, do not hesitate to ask for talent to be given away for free?

There are certain industries, music being one of them, wherein you routinely are asked and even expected to play for nothing or next-to-nothing. Whether it’s for a fundraiser, a project, or an opportunity for some extra exposure or other event, some folks simply expect you to give away your hard-earned talent and skills because they are ephemeral. We don’t have a widget that we can pull off of a shelf, hold in our hand and say “I spent $2.50 wholesale to buy this widget and need to sell it at $5.00 to cover my overhead and expenses”. There is no tangible and lasting evidence that anything was consumed when the product is an experience.

Of course we do have expenses that we have incurred to make the experience not only happen, but if we are careful, memorable as well. There’s the equipment (guitars, microphones, fiddles, strings, rosin etc.) and the training — let me assure you that Vanderbilt degrees do not come cheap! These factors at the very least involve an outlay of cash just to make the music possible. What about all the time spent practicing? Considering the number of hours I put in to every single song I perform, I don’t even come close to minimum wage when I DO get paid.

This brings me to the title of this post “Why buy the cow, (when you can get the milk for free)?” — usually referring to sex, but hey, that’s an experience too, right? Why support a musician or other experience-giver as you would a retail venture, if that person’s talent is only useful when it is being consumed? Like the “If a tree falls in the woods…” scenario, if a musician has talent, but no one is there to hear it, does it have any worth?

To answer my own somewhat rhetorical question, I think the worth is in the realization of the absence of the music, and what would be lacking if the musician was not there. However, to the person who is asking you to play for nothing simply because you can, you are left holding the bag as a horrible, selfish person if you refuse.

“You could make this work if only you would share your skills without thought of compensation! It’s not like you’re using them right now! It costs you (the musician) nothing to take out your fiddle and play, and that simple act would make this a better, more profitable experience!”

Yet, if you respond that this is your livelihood, and that you would have to charge for those services, you’re greedy. Would these same folks expect to call a plumber and say “Hey, you’re not doing anything right now and my sink is plugged. You should come over here and fix it for free, because you can.” All it takes is know-how, right?

I am not angry or upset — I am merely making an observation that talent — all kinds of talent — is not valued in general as a commodity. This is why we don’t pay our teachers enough, and why we have few qualms about paying for the part at the auto mechanic’s, but the labor fee burns our biscuits.

I was heartened that the conversation to which I am referring was between myself and a venue owner. This person also has a creative aptitude aside from her venue management, and can understand the frustration that often accompanies those trying to transform a skill into a living. However, as sympathetic as she is, she is a business owner and has to try and make the most fiscally responsible decisions she can during a difficult period for entrepreneurs.

Perhaps the next time you are spending your very hard-earned money, think a little about the intangibles that had to go into that purchase — it might be the customer service that you experienced during your visit, or the atmosphere that was created to make you feel as though that item was one you should own. (Perhaps created by the music that was playing at the time?)

Then, consider your own talents and how other people benefit from them — I’ll wager that you feel they have worth as well.

Posted in: General Thoughts, Perspective by Cathy 2 Comments , , , ,

I’m the Lucky One

Published at: 05:04 am - Thursday April 07 2011

I feel incredibly fortunate – I am able to do what I love for a living, with a fantastic support system and what feels like unlimited opportunities. I think about the things that have come to pass for me to be in this place, right now, and I am overwhelmed by it all. I was able to study at a fantastic school, receive the best medical care when my career was in jeopardy, and although there was a period when I wasn’t playing regularly, I still had the opportunity to teach some wonderful people.

I know this is an incredibly self-centered post, but I was looking at the difference in my life from this time last year, and it is almost unrecognizable. Last April, I was logging an incredible number of hours trying to do the work of two people, recovering from surgery, and teaching only a handful of students. I was playing with a great group of folks, but it wasn’t where I wanted to be — I wanted more.

During this past year, we moved to Medina where we have always wanted to live, I left the full time position to concentrate of teaching and gigging, and miraculously met the perfect person with whom to pursue music. I am fortunate enough to have a full gig schedule, wonderful original songs to help arrange, the inspiration to write some of my own and a great environment in which to achieve these goals that were put off for so long.

So, I just wanted to take a moment to reflect upon just how lucky I am to have been in the right place at the right time, often enough to be happy.

Posted in: General Thoughts, Perspective by Cathy 2 Comments , , , , , , ,
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