A New Musician Coming Your Way

I don't usually, as you know, publish something like this, however, I'm willing to try anything (almost!) at least once. I'm helping a young artist spread the word about his music and desire to record his first CD. Please check out the link below and watch his video. If you like it, share the link with everyone you know. Even if you can't contribute, if you will share the link with all your friends and family, it can't hurt and will only help. "Word of mouth" is always the best way to get noticed... right? Right! So go for it. I hope you enjoy his video and what he wants to accomplish as much as I do. As a writer, I can feel/imagine what he wants to create...

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/tristanmusiconline/tristans-first-album?ref=live

Images from: http://tristanmusic.com/
 

Tristan, a Musician

Music is a life force that not only humans produce. Nature has many ways to gentle a stressed out spirit, to give peace where no peace can be found. Those among us who can hear music in their minds and hearts and put it on paper, give voice to it, play an instrument that allows that one to share it with the rest of us I find reassuring and uplifting. These artists remind me of all the beauty and good in human kind. It is also an amazing ability to be able to produce, literally out of the air, a sound no one else has ever heard before. To put a string of words together which haven’t been strung quite that way before. As unique as a pearl necklace, sometimes at first glance we don’t notice the differences, only the similarities, but then the sound changes, creating a new image in our minds and we realize this isn’t a song we’ve heard before.

Here is a musician trying to live his dream: to make music and live by it. He has a gift with words, phrases, meanings and how they are put together. He is a poet with his poems strung on musical cords. There is a song “I Hope You Dance” sung by Lee Ann Womack that came out when my children were young. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RV-Z1YwaOiw  I often listened to it and thought of my little ones and wished those same things for them, just as she did when singing it for her daughter. Tristan, this musician I am writing about here, is singing, playing and “dancing” with his music, the rhythm of his life, taking the risks and putting his love on the line. He is constantly finding an open door when one closes behind him. He keeps on going and I hope, later in life, he won’t have regrets because whether he wins or loses, he’s done what he set out to do. Try.

Here is a video of him and a friend singing a song he wrote. Also so a link to hear a bit more of his style. If you like it let him know on YouTube and FaceBook. https://www.facebook.com/tristanmusiconline. Pass it on and let your friends in on it too. If you don’t like it, well that’s okay too, because that is what creating is all about. You can never please everyone all the time. But who’s trying to do that anyway? Let the music play…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YsIYiKyXZ54&feature=autoshare

 http://www.reverbnation.com/tristanmusiconline#

For Whom The Bell Tolls

“For Whom the Bell Tolls” is the title of a Bee Gee song that I had never heard until last night. My husband and I watched “Bee Gees: In Our Own Time” on Netflix and were simply and completely blown away. The documentary was filmed in 2010. Maurice Gibb died in 2003. In April this year Robin Gibb died as well. This left me to think of Barry Gibb and how he must feel, living without his hands and feet. Did it make it any easier having almost ten years between the two losses? After watching this informative and entertaining film, I was left with a profound sense of grief. So deep I can’t tell whether it’s just in empathy with the last remaining member of their group and brotherhood, or if their story has somehow tapped into some unknown grief of my own. Maybe it’s both but whatever it is, I could barely sleep last night, can hardly focus today and I NEED to be writing.  http://vimeo.com/40976233

 

 So I’m writing this to see if that will help purge some of this emotion that has me on a rollercoaster ride. I wish I could hug Barry Gibb, tell him I’m so sorry he has lost all of his younger brothers, his partners in life and music. Thank goodness he has five kids and a family who loves him. Still, after seeing what I saw in the documentary I can’t imagine what he is feeling: after seeing how incredibly linked the three older brothers were, how Barry probably doesn’t have any memories before his younger twin siblings arrived in his life. How do you live your entire life professionally and personally with brothers who have such close bonds with you and then lose both of them? After that, how do you cope? With family of course by his side I know. Still…

I know he is thankful for all that he and his brothers lived, dreamed and made together. I’m sure he is aware of knowing his brothers are always with him, but also knowing he is “alone” without them here to help shape their common music, voices, and their dreams. http://beegees.com/

So this is a tribute to The Brothers Gibb and all they gave the world and their fans. Here is a wish to Barry Gibb and his family, and to Robin and Maurice’s families that they find solace in the legacy the Bee Gee’s left to us all. For me, right now, there is no question about for whom the bell tolls. It rings loud and clear for Maurice, Robin, and Andy. I hope it waits awhile for you, Barry. Thank you Bee Gee’s. You have been a part of my life I am grateful to have had. Maybe that’s where my grief is finding purchase. It’s just so hard to say good-bye.

Photos from:

duduki.net

 last.fm

 batanga.com

 ibtimes.com

Tristan, the “Last Minute” son

Twenty-five years ago my husband and I were blessed with a son whom we named Tristan. I was inspired by the younger brother on “All Creatures Great and Small” and my husband by the famous opera. Our son came not upon his due date, but on the day he chose, which just happened to be the anniversary of Napoleon crowning himself emperor. Our son waited till the last minute to arrive as, we found out, is his custom.

When Tristan was born he didn’t cry. He barely made any sound at all. The doctor gently forced him to make some noise so she knew he was all right, but he didn’t feel inclined to aid her. He peered out at us as if a more knowledgeable person waited behind those all-seeing eyes. As if to say to us, “I don’t think I’m ready yet so you’ll just have to wait.” And wait we did and still do. Once he chose to participate in this world, he took it at his own pace and made sure we knew it when he felt rushed. As a man in his own right now and no longer “our son” only, he speaks fluent English and French and is a musician who writes his own songs.

Tristan still, and always has, had a habit of waiting till the “last minute” for anything. To be born, to go to school, to do homework, to make sure he has what he needs for a gig, or for work, or gas in his car, or his wallet or keys.  I think this comes from his unwillingness to join the rest of the world’s time table. He likes to set his own. I don’t know if he’ll ever make it to the “big time”with his music, but he’s one heck of a writer and has a guardian angel who works miracles for him so who knows? Why not? Maybe he’ll even take me seriously one day and use the name I know he’s destined to use for his band. Maybe one day you’ll hear a song that knocks you off your feet and you’ll find out the name of the singer/group is “Last Minute Son.” Maybe it will tweak your memory and you’ll search the web only to find this little bit of - for the time being “unknown”- history on that superstar. You’ll proudly tweet it to all your followers and find yourself, unlike my “Last Minute Son,” ahead of the game.

Tristan can be found at:

 https://www.facebook.com/tristanmusiconline

tristanmusiconline.com

Music/Musique

I don’t remember a time in my life where I didn’t listen to music. I grew up in the sixties and seventies when music was in a state of flux. Almost anything went, and it did. In one of my memories my sister and I are about 6 and 8 and we are dancing in our dining room on hardwood floors with the sun streaming in through the ceiling-high windows and the glass door going out to the balcony. We are dancing to Leonard Cohen when his voice was young and not so velvety deep as it is now. I loved the poetry of the man even then. It spoke to me and evoked images that I painted as I saw fit.

I still love music that speaks to my soul; that can make my heart yearn, my tears fall, my lips laugh. I love to sing along, or hum, or whistle. Today we venture once again into the heart of the French Quarter in New Orleans to partake of their particular brand of life-enriching music. Now I am not, per say, a huge fan of sitting around listening to jazz, or blue grass or calypso or zydeco unless, I’m listening to them live.  I can’t not sway with the rhythm or tap my foot or wiggle my hips or clap or turn in circles in joy. Live, all of these different styles speak a language that some part or the other in me responds to.  When I see the faces of the voices and the instruments producing their glorious sounds, the music is different to me than when I sit at home and listen to a disc. Some music works that way in reverse. I can listen to the disc but not appreciate the live performance as much. And now, I’m ready to hit the streets again and sync myself into the pulse of the city. I’m off to indulge my body and soul in a “gumbo” of fresh music as only the French Quarter Festival can provide.

The last act the "Royal Frenchmen"

So, we've spent the entire day enjoying the music the FQF has had to offer us and it ended about 30 minutes ago for us with a last hour sitting on the corner of Royal and Frenchman listening to the "Royal Frenchmen", a rag tag thrown together group of young musicians who decided to play together a few weeks ago. Some are even from France! I watched as they set up, tuned up, warmed up and then started to play. At first there were maybe six of us onlookers paying attention. By the third song there were at least 30 people watching, tapping their feet or swaying to the lively beat. By the sixth song there were at least 70 to 100 people at any given moment who had joined us on that corner. We spilled into the street almost blocking traffic. At least in the Big Easy they are used to this and tolerate it well. Two dancers showed up and entertained us with their fluid style. The tide of people ebbed and flowed as did the music. It was magical and so worth experiencing. I almost couldn't wait to get back to the B&B to get it all down, but was afraid to miss anything! What a wonderful way to end a glorious day.

Photos:

Listen Little Love of Life

Amazing to be here in New Orleans for the French Quarter Festival and the magic music this city has to offer. I’ve been listening all day to all kinds of music, loud, quiet, jazzy, blues, cajun, zydeco, calypso, a little bit of a lot of soul and color.

As we sat on the curb on Royal Street this afternoon, I listened not only to the music of David Leonard and Roselyn Lionheart, two lovely musicians who’ve played here for years, but also to the flow of people walking by, drinks in hand. Different conversations floated on the air, words picked out at random depending on the turn of a head or direction; one lady telling her husband that he already knew she wasn’t listening so why did he bother telling her whatever it was he was telling her. A man on his cell making sure all of us around him heard him tell whoever he was talking to that, yes, his grandmother was all right, and so was he, thank you for asking. At a restaurant for lunch the host who seated us had tissue paper stuffed in his ears because he was tired of the noisy bombardment of Bourbon Street. I didn’t blame him.

I listened and imagined writing about these sounds, these people and their characters, how they might all become grist for the writer’s mill. These little snippets of people’s lives surrounded me and I became aware of the quiet in my everyday life. Meanwhile the music encased us all in a large envelope of multi-colored sounds. This city is alive and I feel alive in it. The magic that always seems to entrance me here is as powerful as ever. I love New Orleans, its sounds, its life, its vibration that moves through you like the taste of a salty sweet margarita. Tomorrow I’ll be back out on the FQ streets listening to the beat of the city and its people, and tomorrow night I will come back to our little B & B (Auld Sweet Olive) and write about nothing but the magic of music and how it soothes my soul.

Images from:

jambands.com

worldvisionreport.org