All posts tagged folk rock

Singing Naked: Honesty on Stage

My mom swears I was born singing. I’m pretty sure it was colic. Regardless, music has always been an important part of my life. My early “naps” consisted of cooing on a swing. To ~~shut me up~~ soothe me, my parents drove me around, making song-like noises. (Though my parents have nice voices, neither is demonstrative about it. So my dream of The Johnson 7 never quite happened.) And each summer as we drove “up north,” I’d start a made-up song with the rev of the car engine and, to my brother’s dismay, continue until we pulled into the cabin driveway 4.5 hours later. If nothing else, I’ve got lungs.

“Nap” time

For years, I didn’t care whether I was good; I simply loved singing. Around adolescence, everything changed. I started feeling insecure about most everything—my lack of smarts, my “ugliness,” my general un-coolness and my inability to sing or write good songs. I have loads of theories as to why this was the case; I’ll skip those for now. What’s important for this post is when and why that changed.

I was living and working as a model in Paris and, though I didn’t realize it, was pretty sick with anorexia. Before arriving to the illustrious city, I’d sold my guitar. Gone were the days of performing in the folk-rock trio I was in during high school. With no plans of performing solo or teaching, why would I play? During a photo shoot in which I played a winged, leafy-haired nymph, I spotted a guitar in the room’s corner. Though I continued to move for the cameras for several more hours, my mind stayed fixed on that guitar. The more I fixated, the tighter my throat felt—the prelude to tears. What was wrong with me?

Then it hit me. I was longing for music. Longing to sing, to play with all of my heart, whether anyone heard, saw or enjoyed it. Looking back, I’m pretty sure that that inclination was my desire to reconnect with my authentic self—the one then squelched by disease.

After the shoot, I yanked my copper fairy nails off and grabbed that guitar, strummed a few chords and shed a few tears, not caring if the crew deemed me odd or crazy. (They spoke only French, so I’ve no clue.) During the following weeks, that guitar frequented my thoughts, which was remarkable, considering that 110% of my thoughts prior to that involved food, weight and calories. Even after I passed out by the Seine—the Does Dirt Have Calories? experience—and flew home to Minnesota for treatment, I thought of that guitar. So I bought one. And the day I had my biggest turning point, deciding for real that I’d no longer live my life by E.D.’s rules, I stood before a mirror and out came Mirror Song.

A few of the lyrics:

Who are you, looking back at me?
In the mirror I see, everything but me.
Who are you, in all your beauty?
You’re black and blue. The pictures tell your story.
It’s not fair that you cry yourself to sleep each night;
And it’s not right that you hide your body and your mind.
If I give you my light, will you see that you’re all right?
Just don’t give up, not tonight.

From then on my voice came out louder, literally and figuratively. Feelings I couldn’t recognize or express in words poured out easily through song. Music undoubtedly played a crucial role in my recovery.

I’ve written songs off and on since, and while I’m still somewhat timid about my music, I’ve come to believe that the little girl I was was right: It doesn’t matter if we’re “good” or if people like what we create—not if we feel it in our hearts.

Toward that end, I’m doing a couple of slightly nerve-wrecking things: performing at Los Globos next Tuesday as part of my book release party, and sharing a rough, live performance of one of my songs here with you today.

I wrote the following song, Solitude (or Mr. Ground), for the patch of grass I fell in in Paris, but it’s really about learning as we go and growing comfortable with ourselves. It’s far from perfect performance-wise, but it’s honest, and I felt, as per usual, a whole heck of a lot when I sang it.

Sharing our work leaves many artists feeling naked, and rightfully. Little makes one more vulnerable to criticism, and when we put our honesty and hearts into our work, it’s particularly personal. But you know what? It’s so worth it. It may not inspire Girl Boners (though we never know!). It can, however, give people’s hearts a lift. I feel that often when I experience others’ work—including many of yours. I’m going to remind myself of this on stage Tuesday night, and do my best to stay true to the stories. I think I owe that to my heart. ♥ If you’re in the LA area, I hope you’ll consider joining me.

Do you get nervous sharing your work? Have a creative outlet besides writing? Have you ever written a song for a dirt patch? 😉 I always love hearing your thoughts.

65 Comments

by August McLaughlin on March 7, 2013 • Permalink

Posted in Life, Music

Tagged acoustic songs, august mclaughlin, folk rock, music, solitude, writing songs

Posted by August McLaughlin on March 7, 2013

https://augustmclaughlin.wordpress.com/2013/03/07/singing-naked/

Sweet Solitude: Creating Intimacy with Writing & Ourselves

One night during my teen years, I found a tattered copy of Kahlil Gibran‘s THE PROPHET in my parents’ bookcase. I read it and understood for the first time one of the reasons my parents have remained together and in love for decades. They love each other, but respect each other’s individuality first.

On Marriage (excerpt)
by Kahlil Gibran

But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.

I believe that many writers are deep-feeling, sensitive creatures who long for intense intimacy. We seek deep connections with others, the ability to crawl into our loved ones’ heads, to know others and be known deeply. If we aren’t careful, our interpersonal relationships can fall short of such high expectations. And we can appear frustrated, disappointed and overly complex.

I was living in Paris some years back, feeling lonely and hollow in this never-never land I thought would fulfill and “fix” me when I realized that what I lacked was intimacy with myself–comfort in being alone and connected with me, my thoughts and my feelings. Once I began turning loneliness into enjoyable solitude, the world of writing and other creative pursuits drew me in.

(Click here to listen to my song, “Solitude”, about this experience…)

Once we’ve instilled “sweet solitude” into our lives, we can form and relish intimacy within our craft. This can lead to some of the most authentic, connected relationships anyone can have—not only with others, but with the characters, worlds and stories we create. Think about it. Aside from writers and actors, who else gets the opportunity to step inside others’ lives and minds??? And similar to lasting romantic partnerships, we benefit from time away from it all. (For more information, see my post on writing and rest.)

Nine times out of ten nowadays, I find that any feelings of loneliness that pop up are remedied by time alone with my writing or away from it, particularly if I’ve been in spastic overdrive. 😉 I spend lots of time alone now and love it.

Simple Ways to Experience Satisfying Alone Time

Start waking up 30 minutes earlier than usual to journal, sip tea, meditate or walk.
Start winding down 30 minutes earlier each night. Turn off anything lit up (phones, computers, TV….) and avoid stimulating activities. Do something restful instead–read a relaxing book, journal, doodle, meditate…
Rather than eat lunch at the office, pack a lunch to eat outside or in your car.
Declare “social bankruptcy.” Health and happiness expert Dr. Susan Biali suggests saying “no” to most invites and attending only those that mean the most to you for increased alone time and emotional wellbeing. “The more alone time you get the happier you’ll be,” she says.
Write for FUN. If writing is your job, set aside time each day or week to write whatever the heck you feel like writing. Let it be “bad.” Don’t judge it. Grab a writing prompt or attempt your first poem. And if you’re working on a novel, approaching the plot and overall with a fun-loving attitude can lead to a fun-to-read end project.
Partake in a cell phone, social media, TV fast for one day or several hours per week.
Take a bubble bath while listening to soothing music.
Prepare and eat a candlelit dinner for one.
Observe and consider giving up your vices. Rather than deal with our thoughts and emotions, we can fall prey to coping mechanisms, such as overeating, over spending, over drinking and flat out avoidance. The first step in undoing these dependencies is awareness. (Actually changing them may take serious and important effort.)
Remind yourself that you can’t do everything. Ask for help. For more on easing up on yourself, see my post on letting things slide.)