singing!

I think I am kind of bad at asking people to come with me when I play a show.

Plus, I always know that I will be just fine by myself. Well, except for the whole carrying the three-thousand-ton keyboard into the venue part. That part sucks. But there is always a kind person on hand to help me, which I appreciate.

Tonight I played a benefit show. I was billed as “Jessica Latshaw of the Paper Janes” which I thought was cute, but sadly, I didn’t play any of our music. I played my music. Afterward, someone kindly told me that they could “really hear the Broadway influence,” and I am not sure what to think about that statement. I mean, I’m good with sounding like Jason Robert Brown. Real good. In fact, if someone told me I sounded like him, I’d probably kiss them. Or at least give them a hearty handshake of gratitude. But if we’re talking Rogers and Hammerstein, then no thank you.

I know, I know–I should bite my tongue right now. They are like demi-gods of musical theater and musical theater has been kind to me and given me more than a few paychecks. But still, I don’t particularly love their music and I don’t particularly want to do one of their shows.

Unless we’re talking paychecks.
Cause then, oh my gosh, I’d love to do one of their shows!

But I had a really fun time playing my set tonight. And I even played one of my songs on the guitar. Dear little Treewood did great for me. It was kind of a milestone, playing the guitar by myself like that with a mic and everything. Singing into a mic made it a little more difficult to see where my fingers were going (and yes, I still look), but luckily there is only like five chords in the song I played, so it went pretty okay, I think.

And this is funny: someone asked me who my guitar influences are. I had to keep myself from blurting out “anyone who can strum all the easy chords!” I was fumbling for an answer, so he asked me if I strum or I like to finger pick. “Strum,” I said quickly. And then I finally told him that I am really more of a piano player who does love the guitar but has no influences that I can think of on the spot. And then he was all, “Does your guitar have a cut out (I think that’s what he said, anyway)?”

“Huh?” I replied.

And then he explained what it was–that part is fuzzy cause it’s hard to remember what someone says to you when you have no idea what they’re talking about–and all I could say was, “I don’t know.”

He finally stopped asking me guitar-related questions after that statement and my accompanying blank stares. Smart man. Although, he did ask me who I sound like. And I Hate. That. Question. I have no idea who I sound like. Well, actually, I do know: me. But that sounds pretentious to say. Or maybe rude. But I think I am going to start saying ridiculous things when people ask me. “Have you heard of the Donut Man?” I will say. “I sound just like him and I usually sing with boxes of donuts that I use as props and then I throw them into the audience when I am done and yes, Dunkin Donuts is one of my sponsors and I hope you like Bavarian Cream.”

Now that doesn’t sound rude, does it?

And I stayed a little bit after I played. I would have stayed longer, but there was someone who sat next to me pretty close and then touched my elbow with his and just kept it there and maybe we’d still be there if I hadn’t gone rifling through my purse, just to buy some space. Who knows, the elbow contact was probably unintentional, but I decided to just get up and go after that.

But not before saying good bye to some friends who I hadn’t seen in ages. And also getting to listen to another friend who I’d never heard play and so it was a real treat to hear him.

The truth is, singing is one of my favorite things to do. It makes me think of this quote:

Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.

Even when life is at its lowest, the act of singing has always reminded me that the world has not ended, after all. Yes, I love it and I am grateful that I get to do it. And now I sound like I am in eighth grade, writing some terribly dull essay on singing, for which I apologize–but I think you get the point.