I played a show in Paris a few weeks ago at an art
installation on a footbridge over the Seine River. I haven’t really had a
chance to assimilate the experience until now because I had 2 art exhibitions
opening right after I got back. It wasn’t easy, but I got everything finished. The
paintings are all hanging on walls now and I’m proud of what came out. The LA
Brewery Artwalk show went amazing last weekend, and I’m looking forward to my
opening at The Frame Gallery in Agoura next Saturday night.
And now here I am. And there I was. Paris.
I started this entry a couple times but ran out of words
before I could do the experience any justice. It just doesn’t translate well to
language. But I really want to share the experience with you, so I’m trying
again.
When I got offered the gig, I was told there was no budget
so they couldn’t pay for me or any expenses, but if I could get myself there
they would love to have me. I didn’t commit right away while I wrestled with
whether or not I “should” go due to the sad state of my finances and the fact
that I had just had a vacation. Plus, I knew there was a distinct possibility I
could wind up playing for 3 people. From a rational perspective, it really made no sense.
But there was something inside me that just wouldn’t let me
say no. I knew I HAD to do it. I was helpless. I knew it the moment Adrian and
Ruth first offered it to me. I heard a voice say, “It’s Paris. This is once in
a lifetime. Go.”
Just because something doesn’t “make sense”, doesn’t
necessarily mean it’s a bad idea. “Sense” is overrated. My best decisions
usually fly in the face of reason. So I listened to my gut and finally hit
“send” on the email committing myself to go.
Woo hoo! Was quickly followed by…Eek! What am I going to
play? I’ve performed at countless clubs over the years and some of my art
openings, but never an installation like this. Somehow my “regular” set just
didn’t feel appropriate. When I imagined myself on that bridge playing, I knew
I had to do something different. Something new.
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| STEP UP 48"x36" The steps at the St. Michel Station in Paris |
The thing is, I feel a kinship with Paris. The first time I
went there was in 2008. I spent a week there alone that altered me for life. I
remember walking up the steps at the St. Michel station in the Latin Quarter
after riding the train in from London, taking one look around, and feeling
something I’d never felt before...comfortable.
Comfortable in a way I never even knew existed until that moment.
It was beautiful. Yes. I was happy. YES! Ecstatic in fact.
It was noisy, chaotic and strange. Absolutely. But the best word to describe
the feeling I had is comfortable.
It’s odd. And it struck me as odd at the time. There’s no other way to explain
it. It was like unbeknownst to me, I’d been holding my breath my whole life
until that moment when a silent, spiritual, gutteral sigh came over me...and
then...everything was different.
It still is.
So when I got offered this gig, it was personal. I almost
teared up when I imagined sound waves of my music floating, bouncing around and
being absorbed by the city. This was a chance to give an offering of myself to
a place that has given me so much.
I wanted whatever I did to make sense with the concept of
the installation, which involved a connection between 2 things….people, cities,
nations or lives (hence, the bridge). I stayed up nights for weeks concocting
together a musical experience which I felt mapped the emotional terrain involved
in moving from one place in life to another. I tried to throw away everything I
thought I knew about music. I just pictured myself standing there playing….what
feels right? Drums? Ok. A string section? Sure. I refused to worry about
logistics. If it sounded beautiful or right, it went in. I worked until the
last second getting on the plane.
In the end I don’t know exactly what I wound up with, but i
liked it. It would require me to play live with prerecorded backing tracks on
my computer which I had mixed feelings about, but nothing else seemed majestic
enough. So I went with it.
I was fine until the day before. Then the doubts came. “What
have I done? I would’ve been better off with etheric sound effects than a
concert. They’re going to hate it. It’s an art installation, not a rock show.”
I was a basket case. I promptly blew the electricity in the
apartment where we were staying because I didn’t use a transformer with my old
reverb unit. I couldn’t get my head screwed on right. My girlfriend who joined
me on the trip tried to talk me off the cliff but I was struggling.
Later that night we went to dinner with our friend who flew
in from Italy for the weekend, and finally I relaxed. Trust, right? The whole
concept of my show. “Nothing I can do now. I did this for me. As recently as
yesterday, I thought it sounded good, so I need to roll with it. It is what it
is.”
So I wake up the next day feeling good. We see a few sights
in the morning and take the train to the bridge in the afternoon. It’s a
beautiful day.
When we get to the bridge, I set up, plug in, and Adrian
turns up the PA loud. Loud is good. We hang out for a little while, and then
it’s time. I start with my light intro music and build up from there. The concept
of the set opens with this naïve bravado kind of space, ultimately ending in a
humble determination to continue forward. I turn my head to the left as the sun
sets over the Seine. Sound my from guitar is everywhere. I can feel the bridge
vibrate under my feet. I’m in Paris. Everyone is watching. Good crowd. I've never sounded quite like this.
It’s not often in life I can say I’ve had an actual and
completely new experience. This was one of those times. Everyone was so nice
and appreciative that I came so far and put so much into it. And this is where
words fail me. As I profusely thanked everyone after my first set via Adrian
who translated for me, I felt tears welling up so I stopped talking before it got
ugly. Or beautiful. However you want to see it.
Two days later, we went to visit a suburb where I had
another profound experience in 2009 and it’s as special and incredible as I remember. And this
time I got to share it with my beautiful girlfriend.
The once in a lifetime experience I was hoping to have, I
did, in fact have.
Today I feel different. Again. I’ve been changed. Again. And
I can’t help but to see the irony in going to Paris to perform a concert about
bridging the gap between 2 chapters of a man’s life, coming home to realize
that the experience itself has carried me across the void to a new chapter in
my own life. Art leading life. Or is it art reflecting life? Or is it the other
way around?
Funny how things are. And all I had to do was say yes. Sort of.
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