[Sent: Jun 11, 2022]
January 7, 2022
February 7, 2022
There are times that music can drown us and there are times that it can twist all of the water out of us until we are dried out. Both drowning and drying can be either pleasant or unpleasant, but regardless it can happen when interacting with this form of art or any form of art for that matter. Below are my earliest memories of music: - Singing along to The Sound of Music cassette and presenting Do-Re-Mi to Mom, interrupting her solitude time on the toilet, reading a newspaper with a cartoon of George W. Bush as a pig on the front cover. - Playing the Raffi cassette on repeat. - My (abusive) babysitter bought Shaggy’s record because she knew I loved the song Angel. - Dad would blast reggae music from the basement, which made the main floor vibrate. He had these massive speakers that freaked me out because they looked similar to the monsters in my night terrors. Exhibit A:
- Mom singing nursery rhymes with me in bed.
- Dad would yell/sing into the microphone attached to his home audio system and encouraged me to do the same.
- Alone time in my room with a xylophone.
Exhibit B (this was so hard to draw haha):
As a child, existence was frightening and sensations in and outside of my body were amplified. I became excessively self-aware and always felt as though there were egg shells stuck to the soles of my feet. Speaking was rare for me and I withdrew myself around adults (I still do this around adults that are adultier than me). My voice was buried underneath a pile of organs. I spent moments daydreaming of taking singing lessons and by the time I was in high school, I raced home to either create a Youtube video, watch Arthur, or sing into a lamp as if it was a studio microphone. One of these or all of these would be completed before my parents returned home from work. Homework was the least of my priorities. Exhibit C:
Brendon created this magnetic space where it was encouraged to allow my voice to take up an entire room. It was difficult to grasp my head around peeling away the layers of myself in front of an audience. To confess my weaknesses, my flaws, and the ways I've glued my heart back to one piece. To show the weaknesses and flaws in my own voice as a person making an effort in singing as an adult. When we were first starting out, I would go to the bathroom and cry after a performance if I did not think it went well. I find that with time, those moments get further apart not only because I may be improving, but also because I understand the concept of learning to forgive myself. To say, "Hey, if you mess up I forgive you and I still love you." One of my parents never understood why I was drawn to The Arts and viewed it as a waste of time. Now and then I would take this into consideration and make decisions that pulled me farther away from it. But eventually, my voice rose to the surface and I realized that art can teach us a lot about ourselves and can bring us closer together when we are feeling alone. Through songwriting and performing, I experience music as truth and vulnerability - of letting go. It is imperfect and it is flawed because that is art as well as being human. Brendon once said, “Music is one of the only art forms captured in small time fragments. Three minutes and it’s over.” * This week we had to cancel our performance at Grounded, which was disappointing and inconvenient for those who made it out. We sincerely apologize for cancelling on such short notice.
Thursday June 16, 2022
Unsociably High - Grounded Kitchen
Thursday, June 23, 2022
Unsociably High - Grounded Kitchen
Thursday, June 30, 2022
Unsociably High & Visual Painter - Grounded Kitchen
As always, thank you for reading and we hope to see you soon!
*Kiss sound* *Kiss sound*