Lately I've had a few transformative experiences. I can't speak for other creative types, but these things always seem to come along for me just when I need them. Just when I feel like I'm in a rut, or that maybe music doesn't mean as much as I thought, there's always something around the corner to kick me up the arse.
First of all, Woody Guthrie. Don't know of him?
You do now.
I read his biography, Bound for Glory, and it moved me. Moved me in a way few books do. Woody seemed to be of the belief that music is a tool, for healing people and making them feel good and strong. To Woody, a song in the morning was as important as a good breakfast. Songs weren't a way to make money, they were a way to bring communities together.
I've always felt that way myself. Good thing too, cause my songs have rarely made money. However strongly one feels about the binding power of music, though, it's rare to see it in action.
A couple of weeks ago here in Weymouth, a young girl of fifteen fell to her death from the multi-storey car park. She may have jumped, it's not for me to say. Fifteen years old. Ain't that a tragedy?
To cut a long story short, I know her sister. It's a small town. She asked me to bring a guitar down to the car park a couple of nights later, to lead the mourners into song. Tough gig. That night alone was astonishingly moving, there were a good sixty or so of her friends and peers, all singing along, laying candles, weeping. It was decided there should be another memorial night on the sunday, a weeks anniversary. We did it, and there were hundreds present. All to sing, and all to help each other through collective grief. Anytime anyone bitches about the youth of today, I'm gonna have to cut them short. The tribute that these....well, children, paid to their friend was beautiful. Singing, regardless of the strength of their own voices. It was their united voices that mattered.
And I, for one, think Woody would have appreciated it.
Cheers,
Tom
