reflections. quiet/loud.
there's a delicious book out in the world. written by alan licht. but really it's just a transcription of a serial conversation between him and will oldham about the latter's bonnie "prince" billy project. which has taken lots of brilliant forms this past decade and three-halves.
i read the whole thing. maybe 7-8 years ago? i think i was living in san francisco. discovering good bread. and learning how to manage humans being. and one part stuck with me.
about performance. and this was mostly in the context of performing music. but it could be anything. a reading. a dance. a play. whatever. and it was about how special a small performance could be. because it was about the performer summoning his or her humanity. and performances are only better and more interesting when they're filled with errors and departures and mishaps of the moment. cuz the performance isn't about recreating a prior performance. (the performance that landed the track on the record, for example.) because then what's the point? instead, it's about creating from whole cloth a new moment. between the performer and the observer.
this ain't so easy to do. or even to grok. in a large concert hall. but it is quite easy to understand in a small room. with 10-15 people. when the performer can make eye contact with each of the observers before the performance is over. and the observers can really see the humanity of the performers. their worries. their struggles to get a note out. a detail they may have forgotten. or rushed through. and that reminds the observer that this beautiful things derived from a mere human. that humans being can produce beautiful, transcendent things. that humans are busy being beautiful, transcendent things.
last night, polly and i and a few other friends were lucky enough to observe three special performances at a comfort station fundraiser. the jarringly raw angel bat dawid. who's performance reminded us of the inspiration and utility of struggle in artistic and other practical creations. bill mackay. who played a mexican guitar-like instrument. and somehow went from spain to ireland to the dixie south and back again. in the same, delicate set. and ohhme. whose voices twist together like a resilient piece of wise driftwood on a lyrical, loud, rhythmic michigan shoreline.
thanks to comfort station for all their killer programing. and for bill mackay's sometimes labelmate will oldham for putting it just rightly.