(Blog – Sept. 21, 2005 continued) Amazingly enough, we found a parking spot. We parked the car and started carrying our equipment to the club, when all of a sudden we were greeted. "Hi, I'm Mama Boone-- who are you?" An older woman stood outside of a small church, waiting for a Bible study to begin. She introduced us to the Rev. Smith, and they warmly invited us to come in and play. However, we were trying to get to the club to register by 7pm, as the instructions had specified, so we told them we needed to continue on to the club and would return after we registered. Undeterred, Mama Boone escorted us, then went around greeting the other musicians. Soon we were swept up in signing papers, talking to the other musicians, and waiting our turn to be interviewed and get our sound check. We actually met a young lady and her mother who came all the way from Illinois! We thought of returning to the church, but they had started using the room where our equipment was stashed as a makeshift studio for the interviews. As the night progressed, we felt more like the proverbial fish out of water. Each act had fifteen minutes to win over the crowd. There were some talented people performing, but many of the acts were bands, with very few ―Americana/Folk‖ acts. The sound was set for ―hip hop‖ and so everything seemed to be distorted and too loud. By the way some of the people were singing, it became apparent that they couldn’t hear themselves. The crowd was noisy, there was lots of pink hair and odd clothes, and we had the feeling we were sitting in the Cantina scene of Star Wars. The voting was skewed towards those who had brought fans with cell phones and could text message in their votes. The thick cigarette smoke was closing up our throats—we should have realized what the atmosphere would be like and taken allergy pills. After five hours of being cooped up in this club with over-amped distorted-sounding music and feeling very sleepdeprived, we began to wonder why we’d come. I think we finally performed around midnight. We decided to do something ―completely different‖ and do an Americana/folk style song! We started with ―Ann Landers,‖ Sharon’s humorous take-off on a song by John Prine. It went off well enough, though we couldn’t really hear ourselves. We could feel the crowd losing interest. So we swung into ―Latte Blues,‖ a tongue-in-cheek song about Sharon’s ―coffee addiction.‖ As soon as we played the blues-styled introduction, we had the crowd’s attention. They seemed to really get into it, and one of the young guys who was helping to run the show turned to the cameraman and said, ―Now, that’s REAL music!‖ I knew we had connected and it felt good to have won the crowd’s approval. Then we got ready to do our final song, and that’s when the trouble began. Sharon needed to tune down to an open G setting, and the noisy atmosphere combined with the distorted sound system made it impossible to hear. We tried to start the song, but Sharon had to stop and hook up her tuner. After what seemed like many uncomfortable minutes, we started again and performed the shortest version of ―Free to Fly‖ we have ever done, as halfway through the first verse, we were waved the ―two minute signal‖ by the young man at the front. I was glad it was over, and slinked back to our seats in the back to finish listening to the rest of the contestants. I hoped no one would notice that we were the ones who had just died up front. But the most amazing thing happened—the young man, who we later learned was one of the club’s hip hop stars, made his way back to where we were sitting and took my hand in his, telling us how much he had enjoyed our music. One of the
other musicians we had befriended, a young man from New York, told us that we had really brought the crowd back on our second song, and had done well. The mother who had accompanied her daughter from Illinois told us that ―Free to Fly‖ was her favorite. And as we packed up our equipment, ready to brave the unknown, a giant of a young man offered to help us carry our stuff to the car. Driving home, I wondered, ―What was that all about? Should we have been there tonight?‖ The answer was yes—but somehow, we had forgotten our mission—which was not to go and perform at a festival and try to win, but just to go, meet people, encourage others, be good sports, and be God’s presence in that place. We regretted not being able to go back to the church, which we later figured out was probably our real reason for being there. We hadn’t sold any CDs, nor had we even swapped with any of the other musicians. But there had been some magical moments. We did meet and try to encourage a lot of people, and perhaps we can continue to foster some of those relationships through email. Yes, it had been an uncomfortable situation, but everyone we met had been so friendly and nice. No matter what kind of music was played, the audience was very encouraging and polite, clapping and cheering for each artist. The internet radio station that broadcast the contest played two songs from our CD, including the full version of ―Free to Fly‖ and ―Holy Passion.‖ (Wow!) And God had provided an escort for us to and from the club! A long time ago, I was told, ―It’s not about the music.‖ But I had forgotten. Since the release of our last CD, Sharon and I have been working hard, trying to find ways to get our music out there, looking for places to perform, setting up a publishing company, posting our stuff on various websites, sending press kits and EPKs to various festivals and contests and venues. So, in answer to the question recently asked by Keith Mohr of Indieheaven.com, ―where are you in your music and mission?‖ I need to remind myself that it’s not about the music—but it IS about the mission. -----Doris Au MacDonald www.thebraededchord.com