Tag Archives: Music

Sailing Homeward.

Home is an interesting concept to someone in transition. From college, to my parents’ house, to summerstock, to college, back to my parents’ house-I’ve bounced around quite a bit in these past four years. And now, it seems, I’m just biding my time until I move to my next location. I have my family in one location, and my chosen, extended family in about ten others. So, it’s been awhile since I’ve felt truly at home- where all my possessions and all of my life’s loose ends come to rest, neatly tied up and put away.

For the past three summers, I had the incredible opportunity of working at a Renaissance Festival in upstate NY. This entailed living in the woods for three months of improv training, character creating, and laughing at and with my insanely talented castmates. It was, in one word, magical.

This summer, it was time for a change;  however, I have missed my little corner of the woods more than I can say. So last weekend, two of my college friends (Toby and Kate ) and I piled into my car and roadtripped it to their opening weekend.

I’ll admit it: I was a little apprehensive about visiting. Firstly, I had no idea how it would feel to not be acting in the festival. Would I play along (it’s interactive improv-which is creating scenarios that you can pull audience members into)? What shows would I see? And, most terrifyingly, would it be less -well- magical as a guest? Secondly, it holds a lot of memories. And, really, any place that holds that many memories can either be a joy to visit or a painful sinkhole of moments. (I know, that was a little too 14-year old goth chick, but go with me.) Anyway, I was nervous. And immensely excited.

I could spend this blog post commenting on the awesome shows I saw, and this quirky conversation I had with a character, or that hilarious scene I saw played out in front of me, or what it was like to be carried through the mid-day parade over the shoulder of a once alchemist, now pirate, but I’m gonna go ahead and skip to the pivotal moment of my trip: the pub sing.

PUBSING!

Now, every faire day ends with a half-hour sing along with the entire cast, all of the musicians, and every guest that is within the gates. I cannot accurately explain  how moving this is, but I’m gonna give myself fifteen words in which to try (lest I spend the next twenty minutes writing some epic poem about it that no one, not even myself, will want to read afterwards): It’s like that moment when you first light a sparkler as a kid…awe-inspiring. Anyway, the songs vary from day to day, but it always ends with the same two songs: Auld Lang Syne and Mingulay. Preceding Auld Lang Syne, one character gives a speech- a moment in which he can reveal something about himself, the actor. The speeches are usually moving and therefore usually bring me to tears (A lot of things bring me to tears. I am not generally able to not cry when things move me, or I, you know, breathe. Or walk. Or eat a particularly good sandwich.)

It wouldn’t be a pubsing without a song about drinking far too much.

On this day, my dear friend Lenny Burrows got up to speak. So, of course, my eyes welled up. He began to talk about returning to the festival-of how leaving for a period of time will make the return mean that much more. Great. Thanks, Lenny. Let’s talk about that today-when I’m returning. Thanks for that. By the end of his two-minute (if that) speech, I am hysterical. Kate and Toby are sitting next to me, I’m assuming wondering if they can sneak away slowly so as not to become associated with this madwoman. But I know, oh boy do I know: this is just the beginning.

Love is pretty much what it comes down to. Love and Music.

The minute the song begins, I fall entirely apart. Sobbing. Not really breathing because I would rather refrain for a few minutes than start wheezing. I can see cast members looking at me, sobbing about 8 rows from the stage, and smiling in that way people do. More tears. Then comes the line, “And here’s a hand my trusted friend…” Traditionally, during this line, the cast will offer hands to each other, then to the first two or three rows of the audience. I look up from my lap, which I have been studying quite determinedly for the past 30 seconds or so, and see about ten of my friends in the cast traversing down the aisle towards me. They grasp my hand, one by one, share a tearful smile, and run back to the stage.  I cannot express, or even begin to make sense, of the amount of love I felt in that moment. But more than that, I felt at home. It all clicked into place- I was entirely and happily home.

And as the cast sang the last song, “Mingulay,” I heard my own voice join in. It was a song about coming home, about returning to loved ones after time away- how could I not sing along?

The End of an Era…and the Beginning of a Dramatic Eulogy.

I’m a talker. I love to talk. I enjoy talking. I like it so much that sometimes, when I’m alone, I say my thoughts aloud. I’ve dealt with this my whole life-from the first time I had to write my name on Mrs. Stolgitis’ blackboard in first grade for talking during class until now. I choose to confidently blame this on my Italian heritage (although I probably get it from my mom, who talks more than I do and is, in fact, French).

Regardless of why I talk so much, the fact of the matter is this: all of that talking has finally caught up to me. I’ve noticed over the past year that if I talk as much as I am used to, my voice gets insanely tired. Very quickly. This has become a problem, as I’m an actor. And a singer. Both of these things require quite a lot of my favorite pastime. And to preserve this future, I have been forced into a false, taciturn existence.  My silver tongue has been silenced, after 20+ years. Lovers of quiet, rejoice.

This might sound a tad dramatic (something I also have a knack for), especially for those of you who have an aptitude for silence. (And if any of you reading this fall into that category, please– Share your secret.) For me, it’s sort of like having my right hand chopped off: I can still write and type and brush my teeth using my left hand, but it’s gonna take a lot longer and not turn out as nicely.

So, as I continue the search for ways to get my voice in shape, I will suffer through hours of silence. I will think my thoughts, instead of say them. I will listen to others spin their stories, and offer no complementary tale. I will- okay, this is actually getting too dramatic for even me.

I will shut up for a while. And maybe do some yoga? That seems to jive well with silence. Any other ideas on things to do while being forced to stay silent?

I and Love and You

I’m a firm believer that art should be experienced, not written about. So, while I usually don’t feel inclined to write about performances I’ve seen, I did want to post about one particular moment in a concert I saw two days ago.

If you don’t know who the Avett Brothers are, you’re missing out. In fact, I suggest you stop reading, go to youtube, and look them up. OR! Better yet, read while you listen to them. Really, they’re fantastic. Bluegrassy, with a banjo, upright bass, cello, guitar, drums, piano, and stellar lyrics.

I was lucky enough to go see them perform on Sunday night with a few friends from the city. The place was packed, and, of course, the minute the band hit the stage, any thought of enjoying the concert sitting down disappeared. They were absolutely phenomenal! High energy, clearly loving what they were doing, with the audience swaying and singing along to every song.

About 3/4 of the way through their set, the familiar chords of the first song I ever heard by them reached my ears. “I and Love and You.” My heart leapt. The memories attached to that song swam in my head, and, feeling slightly sentimental, I reached up and put my arm around my friend’s shoulder. Within seconds, my friends and I were connected in one swaying, singing line. It’s strange- how connected you can feel to a song. In that moment, I was exactly where I needed to be, with the exact people I needed to be with. At a concert. Singing along to a group who loved what they were doing. Along with a thousand or so others.

All sarcasm and joking aside, it brought home to me once again the incredible ability music has to bring people together, to ground them, to enrich their lives, and make them feel that they are a part of something bigger.