A few hours before New Year, 2023

Ever since I can remember, I've had an obsession with counting things. Really irrelevant things, sometimes. More than that, I can't resist calculating averages, over different time periods. Like when I had to wash baby clothes by hand, I'd count the number of items, so I knew the average number of  clothing items I washed by hand, in a given week or month. Even now, if I have to wait anywhere, and I don't have a book with me, I start counting random things, like window panes, or the number of people with visible tattoos. 

When I compare the number of blog posts I did in 2021 (29) with the number in 2022 (this is no. 15), it would be easy for me to feel like I've failed, in some way. But I don't. Even though numbers float around in my brain all the time, I've stopped being so hard on myself in terms of expecting everything to have increased each year. In 2011, I did an astounding 71 blog posts (almost 6 a month!), and in 2020, only 11. There's no way I could say that, if I could achieve 71 in 2011, then I should've been able to equal or improve on it every year after that; each year has its own set of circumstances, and it's silly  to think that numbers tell the whole story. 

This year, I've experienced some of my lowest lows and my highest highs. It's been a rollercoaster ride, but with more private tears than public screams. No single year exists in isolation, so 2022 was very much a consequence of 2021 (lockdown & retrenchment), as well as of 2020 (lockdown, with immense work-related frustration and stress). The best part about one year flowing into the next is that new ideas and lessons learnt can be applied in subsequent years. And that's how I feel as I type this post, just 3 and a half hours before the start of 2023. 

About half an hour ago, there was an unbelievably loud bang outside, which could have been a gunshot, but was most probably a huge firecracker.  It shocked me so, that I was trembling for long afterwards. I was scared there'd be more, but I was also really worried about people's pets and how much they suffer when that happens. In South Africa, it's illegal to set off fireworks in residential areas, but you'll always find idiots who do it anyway.  

My lowest low, this year, was being unemployed for a few months, employed part-time for a few months, and the resulting financial crisis I was flung into. One of my biggest goals for next year is to increase and stabilise my income, so that I can sort things out and feel like I like to feel again. 

My highest high was finally finding the courage to change direction in my music life, and starting my Solo Sessions. I'm a bit distracted right now, so I'll probably blog again in the next few days. I have so much to write, including about how magical Solo Session 5 was! 

I have a few thoughts about 2023, and I won't share them all here, but some of the things I want to consciously do are to worry less (I worry a lot - about everything!), to trust myself more, and to play to my strengths.  I also want to go back to mentally pressing the Pause button when I feel awkward about committing to something someone suggests. Not everything needs an immediate response. 

I also feel that, as my children grow into their adult lives, I need to focus on making sure my own life is full and interesting, so that, when I find myself living alone, there won't be too much of a void. These transitions are a natural part of life, and parents do their children a disservice by clinging to them long after they've expressed a readiness to live independently. 

Whatever the new year may bring, I want to be at peace with the choices I make. I also need to remind myself that life's too short to play small when you are bursting with ideas. I am 61 years old, and I want to live an interesting life, following my heart and avoiding whatever does not spark joy. I think we should live our lives, while we can.

Happy New Year. May 2023 be a good year for us all.   

    

Showing up for myself

A week ago, on Saturday, 10 December, I did my fourth Solo Session. To everyone else, it may seem like just another gig, but to me it was so much more. 

I was reading through some notes I'd made in January this year, in which I'd brainstormed the year ahead. Somewhere I'd written, under my music goals: "originals?" Shifting my focus to my original compositions had been on my mind for a long time. For many reasons, I had seen my gig life as performances of cover versions, and - for a couple of years - relegated my originals to an annual concert with one of my duo partners. When I was given one year in which to raise funds for my daughter to go to Thailand, in Grade 10, I did a five-concert series focussing on my original work. I performed with different people, in different venues, and we featured some younger artists, as well. I will always be grateful to everyone for their assistance. That was a very interesting and exciting year. We started in August 2013 and the trip was in June 2014. In a blog post, dated 8 July 2014, I wrote about the 5 fundraising concerts.

Anyway, the many reasons I kept side-lining my own music, in favour of covers, is linked to both the local music scene, as well as my personal journey, as a highly sensitive person, raised to put everyone else's needs before my own, and easily put off pursuing a different path when it seems it will cause certain people who are important to me to stop liking/loving me. There - I've said it! Fear of rejection. I can't get any more vulnerable than that. 

In my song, Delighted, I sing: "Was raised to be polite / Be nice and sweet, don't fight / When people walked all over me / I'd smile with all my might / Held me back for long / Cos I couldn't see / That I was not being me."

It's been a long and convoluted road, for me. All kinds of messages come our way, even when they're not addressed directly to us. If you hear your family/friends speak disparagingly about a certain type of behaviour, you get the message that you shouldn't do that. If you hear people you care about laughing at choices made by others, you know you'd risk ridicule, yourself, if you took those same choices. And because we tend to seek harmony at all costs, we adapt our behaviour, and even our goals, to stay IN the circle of acceptance, and not find ourselves adrift in the wilderness.  

But that works for only a short while, right? At some point, when certain patterns become clear, you start to think, "Fuck it, they're going to disapprove of me, regardless of whether I try to be authentic IN the circle, or live my truth and take a different path to the one everyone expects me to take."  

And that journey, in my broader life, was naturally echoed in my music life. Raised to put others first, without a healthy balance, I felt selfish for wanting to perform my own songs. Hearing disapproving comments from people close to me, including romantic partners, I curbed my desire to share my own compositions, and packaged them neatly into occasional performances - and even then, always accompanied by a more accomplished musician. Why? Two reasons - they definitely enhanced the sound of the songs (and I learnt a lot from all my music partners), AND I was scared that, on my own,  performing my songs wouldn't be good enough. In other words, I was shit scared. 

And then lockdown happened and we couldn't do public gigs. I went from doing at least one gig per week, to doing nothing. I sang in about six online concerts, during lockdown, always doing originals, and then in 2021, I sang two live gigs at the end of the year (Nov & Dec). That was after stopping live gigs in March 2020! During lockdown, I thought about what life would be like if I could never gig again. In fact, I'd started to think that that part of my life was over, and it made me really miserable. Also in that time, in Sept 2021, I turned 60, and I started thinking about how quickly life had passed, and about what I wanted to do before leaving this realm. It became crystal clear to me that I needed to stop trying to be any version of myself other than the one I was comfortable being. It was time for me to stop overthinking it, and to focus, unapologetically, on my own songs. It makes no sense to spend decades creating something and then to be afraid, especially in a world full of knock-offs, to expose your creations. In a braver headspace than usual, I decided to not just expose them, but to celebrate them.  

I also knew that the type of performance experience I wanted was different to what I had been doing before, and that it would be a huge risk. I was scared, but I knew I had to at least give it a try. I'm still scared, and the truth is that, a few days before each of the four Solo Sessions, I've considered cancelling the show because of low bookings. But Cape Town audiences are very interesting. The day before, you can have two tickets booked, and on the day, you'll have 22 people in your audience. Only 22? Well, my goal is 30. And, at this stage of my life, I'd rather sing to 22 people who are there specifically to listen to me and my songs than to 80 people talking and laughing loudly in a restaurant, where they might as well have a CD playing.  

Summary of my 4 Solo Sessions:

1. Sunday, 4 September, at Surplus Books, in Woodstock. So much went wrong, that day, but I'd made a start, and I was more convinced than ever that that was what I wanted to do. Many lessons learnt. I loved the quirkiness of singing in a bookshop, and I'd love to do so again. I wish the people who came to that show could come to one of my shows in 2023, because my first one was my worst one! 😀 

2. Sunday, 2 October, at Athenaeum, in Newlands. A very different vibe, in that building - but again, I enjoyed the experience. Like the bookshop, it was also an interesting space, conducive to storytelling.  

3. Saturday 22 October, at Café Societi, in the Homecoming Centre, in District Six. What a cool space! I would love to go back there. That whole building is filled with history and stories, and I feel some kind of magic there.   

4. Saturday, 10 December, in the foyer of the hall at Harold Cressy High School, in District Six. I liked the feeling of occupying a bare space, not intended for performance, and singing there. It was an extremely fulfilling experience, because I felt the audience (very responsive) throughout the hour, and of course it was surreal singing at my old high school, after 43 years!  

                 Solo Session 4, at Cressy.  Photo: Vincent Hendricks 

I am proud of myself for having made a start on this project. It's an indefinite concert series, because it's all I want to do, for as long as I can. I am working hard behind the scenes to improve the production side of things, as well as the quality of the music itself. I love having artistic freedom and control, but I am collaborating with people who can help me level up in as many ways as possible. 

I  thought about hiring a manager, but right now, that's not viable. I will continue to do all the work myself, outsourcing here and there. What I do need, though, is an assistant - someone capable, with good energy, who thinks out of the box, and who is mature and flexible enough to know when to follow instructions (because I put a lot of thought into everything I do) and when to make suggestions (because there's always something for me to learn). The person needs to like my music, because he/she will be around it a lot.            

Thank you, Universe. In the most important way, I showed up for myself, this year. This was a year fraught with instability on the job front, with resulting financial insecurity, and I could so easily have let that dampen my enthusiasm for this new music venture. But I didn't, and I'm proud of myself. I'm giving myself a BIG pat on the back, because I forged ahead, despite my fears and all those voices in my head from my past, saying, "What makes you think you're special enough to do this?" And "You're dreaming if you think people will come and listen to YOU as a soloist!" And "There are so many other musicians who are much better than you." (I know!!!! And I'm not trying to be them! I'm being myself!) 

I know it will take a while, but those voices are getting softer all the time, as I step into my power, as a creator of original music and lyrics, as a storyteller through songs, and as someone who's spent the past 44 years playing guitar and writing songs. I know I have a lot to offer. This original concert series was always going to happen - it was just a matter of time. And now that I've started, and I'm seeing what works and what doesn't, I am super excited about 2023 and all the cool spaces I'll be occupying, as well as all the cool audiences with whom I'll be sharing my songs and stories.   

Thank you, Universe. 

Breaking a Pattern of People Pleasing

When I was a child, I'd often hear my mom say, "Wisdom comes with age". I accepted it as a given because that's what you do, as a child. When I got older, however, and started questioning almost everything I'd been told (and sorting out what I would retain or discard - a never-ending journey, it turns out), I had to be honest that I knew quite a few older people who were not wise. I also knew many young people who were. It's funny how we say, in those cases, that she's "wise beyond her years", based on that same world view espoused by my mom. I'm not saying that it's completely baseless - just that it's not always true.  

What I have noticed, as I've continued to live self-reflectively, consciously discarding habits that no longer make sense and adopting ones that do, is that I occasionally catch myself in mid-response,  identify what's happening, and deliberately make a healthier choice. Being able to identify situations when you're likely to slip into default mode, is a good start. 

It occurred to me that you put yourself under a lot of pressure, when you're a people pleaser. It's such an unfortunate interpretation of kindness. It's like kindness on steroids, with you merely emptying your tanks, leaving nothing for yourself. And yet many of us were raised that way. We learn it as children, it's drummed into us at school, and by the time we enter into adult relationships, that inability to draw clear boundaries and to meet our own needs without feeling guilty is firmly entrenched. And we keep doing it - servicing others' needs, at the expense of our own. There's immense  pressure on girls, in particular, and we all grow into women who can't distinguish between a life characterised by reciprocated acts of kindness and one in which you're being taken advantage of.     

It all comes down to a topic I frequently write about - boundaries. During lockdown, I had a few online sessions with a really good psychologist (whom I met in person, as soon as lockdown was lifted), who taught me to "press the pause button", if I felt I was about to respond in a way that no longer felt right for me. It was something I had to practise - not responding immediately. Sometimes, it's better to say, "Let me get back to you", and to give yourself some time to think it through, before responding. Especially if you recognise a line of conversation or a feeling that you associate with previous situations that disrespected your boundaries. Manipulation can be very subtle, and for some people it's an  unconscious, habitual way of communicating. It's particularly hard to spot when it comes from someone you love; for me, it's hard to spot when it's said in a gentle voice, because we always think of manipulators as loud and monstrous. Most of the time, they're just people who want to achieve a certain outcome with the least possible effort, and they know exactly who to pick on to achieve it. It happens in the workplace, in marriages, between friends, between parents and children - in fact, wherever people are, that's where manipulation lives and breathes. Sometimes it's as inconsequential as getting a small task done, but at other times,  it could give rise to the most unconscionable, life-altering set of circumstances.     

I've also realised how people pleasing has led to my tendency to overthink situations, because I'm so concerned with making others happy, or meeting their needs. I'll give you an example. Someone who'd been to one of my Solo Sessions is planning to attend my next one. The first thing I thought was, "I should change my set list", because I thought it would be less enjoyable for that person to hear the same songs. Which is ridiculous, because it's a particular show I'm doing in different venues, with a carefully selected list of songs, and a pre-determined narrative. And then I thought about someone else who'd come to my second session, then brought her father to my third one, because she wanted him to hear a particular song linked to his life. (It was about forced removals from District Six - "In the Shade of Table Mountain".)  All I need to do is focus on my goal and work undistractedly through the steps along the way. That's all. Don't overthink what would suit someone else better - not on this project. That's part of why it's a solo concert series.   

Also, I have previously made big changes to my plans, based on the anticipation of someone else's expectations, and then that person has been a no-show. All I do, in those instances, is deviate from my chosen path and expend energy unnecessarily.  It's not selfish to have  a goal and work towards it. I find it funny how everyone applauds people who reach their goals, but can be so judgemental while you're working towards yours.    

Another situation arose, recently, where someone asked me if I had a particular item. I didn't have the item (for a perfectly good reason), but I immediately felt I'd let the person down.  It's ridiculous! Again, I had to catch myself in mid-shame spiral and course-correct, because I was putting pressure on myself that was completely unnecessary. I'm sure you know exactly what I mean. 

There are so many instances in my life, where this has happened, and allowing myself not to feel bad about things is still part of my journey. Every now and then, someone asks if I'm religious. This is a topic I generally avoid, except in my circle of trust, in which I am not judged for my choices, because very few people even want to comprehend a life without institutionalised religion. After saying that I'm not, I often qualify it by saying that I'd been raised as an Anglican. The point is, I don't need to justify my life choices. But the environment in which I live is fraught with the energy of "be like us, or explain why you're not, and we're going to keep reminding you what our expectations are, so that you can eventually be like us". This attitude crops up in relation to the most banal things, like whether you dye your grey hair or not, as well as what an acceptable length for grey hair is. Why don't we just let someone make the choice that's right for herself? And if she wants to make a different choice after that, why don't we just respect that too? It's not that complicated. Again - interesting how this topic is usually about judging women, and not men. 

I keep thinking, whenever I'm confronted with such myopic thinking: "I'm too old for this shit!" I am amazed at how people who survived the Covid pandemic could be just as parochial as they were before. But that's where part of my naïveté lies - I expect everyone to have done a lot of soul searching and to have decided that life has to be celebrated, and that there are many versions of truth. Personally, I'd rather have a variety of people in my life with different beliefs, feeling happy and respected, than to give people a hard time by insisting that only my view was acceptable.    

In conclusion, as I proceed through this 2nd day of December, still trying to figure out how quickly this year has passed, I am grateful for lessons learnt, for those still being learnt, and for the many I've yet to learn. I'm blessed to have truly wonderful people in my life - including ones who live far away - and I count myself extremely lucky to be alive on this day, to be healthy and to have all my mental faculties. I take nothing for granted. 

As I anticipate a busy weekend, with lots of social interaction, I am at peace with this day of uninterrupted solitude. 

This day is filled with possibility.  

                   After my 2nd Solo Session, at Athenaeum. Photo: Marwhaan Lodewyk 02/10/22

    

Selecting the focal point

Last night, I had a strange dream. And that's putting it mildly. But, with the arrival of a new day, I've decided to do the one thing I can always do - select my focal point.

This was easily the most disturbing dream I've ever had. It was nighttime, and I was walking through a confusing network of streets in a small coastal town. It was really dark - there were either no street lights, or they were very dim. I was walking in a certain direction, like I knew where I was going, but every time I turned down a new street, I was met with a set of horrible circumstances. 

The sea was rushing wildly into the town, causing chaos, as it spewed not just debris, but all kinds of horrendous creatures. The details are fading now, but I kept trying new routes to get to where I wanted to be, and encountering new horrors. I had to fight off disgusting creatures, some of whom were trying to attach themselves to me. It was creepy as fuck, but not once did I turn back - I just kept moving towards my intended destination, wading through the water rushing towards me. 

The water was dark, dirty and foul-smelling, filled with flotsam and jetsam, and even though I was shocked and disgusted by what I had to deal with, there was no thought of giving up or surrendering to the inevitability of defeat. I didn't call out for help. I took everything in my stride, dealing with each successive wave of horror, and never doubting that I would survive. 

And that's the focal point I've selected. I survived all of that. Yes, the dream freaked me out, and I woke up feeling grossed out and wondering what had put such terrible images in my mind. But when I thought about it later, I realised that that dream was about survival - my proven ability to survive whatever life throws at me. 

This has been one of my most challenging years in a long time. While I have the greatest self-knowledge and self-acceptance I've ever had, I've also found that taking principled decisions, in a world where too many toxic people make the rules and decide who deserves a seat at the table, can be a very difficult and lonely path, filled with hardship that can be soul-destroying, making one doubt one's ability to carry on.   

I will continue to focus on the survival aspect of my horrible dream. It felt like a harsh way to receive that message, but that's what I'm taking away from it. I have been reminded - in a hard-to-ignore way - that, despite the many difficulties I've experienced, in recent years, I have survived. I choose to believe that the worst is over, and that I've made it through the darkness. 

I'll quietly give thanks and live my life appreciating that I come from a line of strong women - women who endured a lot, yet survived. Women who were independent, who loved fiercely, and who found reasons to sing, dance, laugh and celebrate. Women blessed with longevity.   

Thank you, Universe. The only other choice I have, besides selecting survival as the focal point of this dream, is to live my life in a way that promotes the opposite of the ugliness I encountered in the dream - I will consciously seek out and advocate for life, light, peace, clarity and beauty.    

                             A photo I took at Sea Point Promenade, sometime this year. 

A mini-reflection on 2022

I often say that we write our life stories by the things to which we say Yes and No. It's obvious, right? The closer we get to the end of this year, the more I find myself reflecting and trying to figure out why this ended up feeling like such a crazy year. Maybe it's been no crazier than every other year, but right now I feel an unshakeable sense of frustration at how certain things turned out. 

This was a year of saying Yes to things that had a known end date, as well as things that ended earlier than anticipated. In the first half of the year, I had three part-time jobs, including a weekly restaurant gig. That was the kind of variety my creative soul craved - I enjoyed doing different things on different days. I also liked the fact that I was able to use my skills in three different sectors I loved - education, music, and the NPO sector. One of the jobs was a work-from-home arrangement, something I'd grown to enjoy during lockdown. But when you live your life a certain way, tuning into what does and doesn't work for you, you make decisions that don't necessarily make sense to others. I stayed in the teaching job until the contract ended (June), but I left both the gig (April) and the NPO project (August) of my own volition. I learnt - again - that something that starts off as a strong YES can end up evoking a strong NO. The harder realisation was that choices that feel right spiritually don't always work out materially.   

Leaving the gig happened around a time when I was questioning my choices in my music life and was feeling a strong pull in the direction of performing my own material to listening audiences. In June, I did an ensemble concert at St Saviour's Church, in Claremont (Cape Town), with three musicians for whom I have great love and respect: Keith Tabisher (my duo partner since 2003), Clayton Seas (a talented guitarist and singer), and Summer Dawn (my talented daughter). I did only original material in that concert, as did Keith and Summer. That experience convinced me that that was what I needed to focus on. But more than just performing my own material, I wanted to do something as a soloist. At age 60, I felt like I had run out of excuses not to embark on that journey. I started developing, and rehearsing towards, a series of one-hour solo concerts, which I ended up calling Solo Sessions.

                                 Summer & I, after Solo Session 2 - Photo: Marwhaan Lodewyk             

So far, I've done three Solo Sessions, and am busy securing venues for my next three. In the meantime, I've been approached by a poet (whose name I'll reveal once we're ready) to do a collaborative performance. It's both exciting and scary to contemplate, but my soul is wide open to collaborations with people whose work I respect. 

Having said as much, I was enjoying the growing momentum of my Solo Sessions, and - for many reasons - I want to continue exploring that leg of my journey. This is not about growing numbers in any one audience. In fact, my concept is intimate concerts, in interesting spaces, to audiences of about 30. It's something into which I've put a lot of thought and it ticks boxes that have particular meaning to me. More than that, I have learnt something from each performance. And when something means that much to you, you don't stop after your third one. No matter which other collabs I take on, I will continue doing my Solo Sessions.  

Clayton, Keith, me & Summer - Photo: Bianca Rasmussen

It's the 11th of November. I currently have one part-time job (teaching English to adults doing matric), which earns me a fraction of what I need to earn, to cover my overheads. So it's back to the drawing board, as I have to either add a second part-time job, or change jobs completely. Something full-time has come up, to which I have to respond TODAY. If I succeed at that application (very strong possibility), I have to leave my current job. (My heart breaks at the thought of leaving the students so soon after having started this journey with them.) At the same time, there's a very interesting part-time prospect that has come my way, but with no guarantee of immediate work. I'm qualified, I'm very interested, but when you enter a new sector, there's an element of risk. Struggling with the impact of risks taken this year (had to give up medical aid, etc.), I think it's time to revert to a more cautious approach.     

Even though there's a rebel inside of me, shouting, "But if you persevere, you can live life on your own terms", I suppose being an adult is not quite as straightforward as that; sometimes, the Venn diagram of what you'd love to do and what you have to do doesn't have an intersection.

My ideal life, if money were not a consideration, would be to live in a cottage, with all the creature comforts (like wifi, etc.) and a cute, manageable garden, with an outside eating area. I'd be in a peaceful area, with lots of trees, but a short drive from wherever I needed to be (shops, etc.). Actually, if we're talking dream situation, I'd ditch the trees any day to live near the ocean. I'd walk on the beach every day. I'd have a comfortable chair with a lamp, where I'd catch up on all the books I possess, but have never read. I'd work from home, writing on my computer. I'd also have a music room, where I'd compose, rehearse and record. In addition to all of that, I would perform. Sometimes I'd do my Solo Sessions, and sometimes work in a duo/trio, preferably performing my own songs. I'd travel all over South Africa, sharing my music with people, for as long as I'm able to. I'd keep in touch with my family and friends, enjoying the company of people who love me as I am. I would leave South Africa, about twice a year, and travel to different countries, experiencing other languages, cultures and foods. But I think I'd always come back to the Mother City. 

I'd like to think that I would always be open to new things, and that, since risk taking wouldn't be linked to my ability to pay rent, I would take risks, venturing down unknown paths, and seeing where they led. 

And, lastly - because I expect my procrastination tendency to have disappeared, in my dream life - I'd put things in place to leave a legacy (of my music and writing), for when I transition to the next realm.  In some ways, I've started working on this already.     

I am 61 years, two months and one day old. And life, with all its ups and downs, goes on.

(I like the numbers in today's date: 11/11/22) 

           Imagine seeing the ocean every day! I took this pic at Sea Point Promenade, this year. 

Sunday Somethings

Every now and then, I hear someone say, or read in a social media post: "I don't care what others think of me." I've probably said it myself, on quite a few occasions. But it's not true, is it? We actually do care.

If you've ever checked how many likes your social media post has received, you care what others think. If you've ever tried to grow an audience, either online or in real life, you care. If you've ever tracked the number of views on a YouTube video you posted, you care.  

If I genuinely didn't care what others thought of me, I'd never iron my clothes, I'd probably never wear make-up, or make sure my hair was cut on a regular basis. I'm one of those people who, if I notice a mark on an item of clothing I've just put on, will remove the item and put on something else. If I notice the mark while I'm out, I'll feel embarrassed for that entire day, like I owe everyone an explanation.  Crazy! A real waste of emotions. 

I often think about where all of that concern comes from. Why is it so important for us to be perceived in a certain way? Why do we all seem to struggle with being just who we are, warts 'n all? Why is fitting in so important? What fear lies beneath all of that? The most obvious is the fear of rejection, which I think is a very understandable thing. But think about it: if being accepted by the pack means you have to fit into a narrow description of "normal", or risk ridicule and possible exclusion - even if it causes you to suppress who you really are, and even makes you dislike yourself - is that really the better alternative?    

The interesting thing, though, is that as you get older, you genuinely don't care as much about fitting in as you did before. Most older people simply don't give a damn! It's often said that old people are set in their ways. Now that I'm older, I understand it completely - we've lived through so many experiences and seen so many outcomes, that we've narrowed down our options to what we know works. Yes, sometimes we can be a bit slow when it comes to new technology, but those gadgets are just add-ons, aren't they? Before you asked Alexa to switch on your music, you'd switch it on manually.  Same result - you get to listen to music you enjoy. I think younger people mistakenly think that not being able to handle modern gadgets means you're stupid. One day, when their kids and grandkids are laughing at them for not wanting their pizzas delivered by drone, they'll understand. 

But there's another thing I've been thinking about: there's something immensely ironic about the level of self-confidence and self-knowledge we have, when we're older. It's hard not to think about how different the trajectory of my life would've been, had I been this sure of who I was when I was in my thirties, or even my forties.  

I feel like I've spent at least the past twenty years living Plan B. I have consistently ignored Plan A, no matter how persistently it banged on my door. The intensity with which I've always regarded my music life is at an all-time high, and I can't help but feel a sense of urgency. Having said as much, I won't waste time dwelling on what might have been, and will pour myself into my performance life at every given opportunity. I enjoy teaching, I'm good at it, but, given the choice, I would choose playing my guitar and singing over teaching anytime. Sorry, students - it's not you, it's me. 😊 

The best part of being 61 is that I'm far less afraid to be who I truly am, to speak my truth, to implement better boundaries, and to go with what I feel is right for me!  I've had to deal with some tough consequences of walking away from toxicity, in both my personal and professional lives, but when I reflect on each situation, I know without a doubt that I'd make the same choice again. I think I've also reached a point of peace, in my life, where there's practically no topic I feel can't be discussed calmly, to reach a peaceful solution. No matter how awkward it may be, it will always be less awkward afterwards. It doesn't always mean that the person I want to have that conversation with will be open to it, but I know for a fact that I can talk calmly about anything - even if it's really, really hard, at first.   

Today, I had planned to join an 8am group walk close to the sea (Sea Point Promenade), but when my alarm went off at 6, I decided that that was way too early for a Sunday (I get up early to teach on Saturdays, too), so I reset it and went back to sleep. Later, I went to a public walking trail, about a ten-minute drive from home, and had a lovely 45-minute walk. As usual, there were lots of people, mainly walking their dogs, so it was perfectly safe for me to walk on my own. But here's the thing: because of the huge gap between the rich and the poor in our country, it's very difficult for me to enjoy something like a peaceful walk in nature, knowing that the majority of our citizens don't have access to those kinds of places. Why? Two main reasons: one, working class areas aren't built holistically, where people's needs (for recreation and exercise) are taken into account. And two, the residential areas close to our city's natural beauty have always been reserved for the rich. No, I'm definitely not rich, but I can take just a short drive out of my area to access this green walking space.

One of the pics I took today, at Alphen Trail.

Today I spent hours working on my teaching prep for the next few weeks, and I'm amazed at how much work has to be taught in the given time. Many of the students haven't studied for a long time, and I hate rushing through the syllabus, but that's exactly what I have to do. It's fine for some of the students, but not for most of them. And so my usual dilemma surfaces again, where I don't understand why and how certain decisions are made. It's like our country's education system is just churning out semi-educated people. It breaks my heart.    

And so, as I anticipate the second week of November 2022, I'm still trying to deal with the fact that 2023 is around the corner. This has been a very challenging year for me, and I couldn't be further from where I'd like to be, financially. I can only hope (and manifest, and visualise) that the year ahead will be much better, in every possible way.

In my next blog post, I'll tell you about a cool collaboration I've started working on, with another artist. Very exciting!  

 

October media: Tatler article & Cape Talk Radio interview

TATLER ARTICLE, 13 OCTOBER 2022 

As promised, here's the Tatler article, which appeared ahead of my 3rd Solo Session.

😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎

CAPE TALK RADIO INTERVIEW, 22 OCTOBER 2022

And here's the link to my interview on Cape Talk Radio, on Sat 22 October 2022, when the dynamic Sara-Jayne Makwala King chatted to me about my music life and my Solo Session later that day. 

https://www.capetalk.co.za/podcasts/481/weekend-breakfast-with-sara-jayne-makwala-king/666178/sjs-top-picks

😉😊😉😊😉😊😉😊😉😊😉😊😉😊😉😊😉😊😉😊😉😊😉😊😉😊😉😊 

 

Music! Music! Music!

The last day of October - I don't even know where this year's gone! In 62 days, it will be 2023!! Nooooo!

Since my last post, I've done TWO Solo Sessions. Wow, it feels good to write that!

On Sunday, 2 October, I did my second Solo Session, this time at the Athenaeum, in Newlands. I liked the privacy the venue afforded us, and I liked the feeling of singing in a building that is reputed to have been built in the 19th century. As a person classified "Coloured" during apartheid South Africa, prohibited from entering places that were reserved for "Whites", I absolutely love going into those spaces now and doing my own mini-version of reclaiming the land. :-) 

Having said as much, there are certain old buildings that don't make me feel welcome at all, like The Cape Town Club (in Queen Victoria Street, opposite St George's Cathedral) and the Mount Nelson Hotel. There are other structures, especially in our inland towns, that also make me feel I need to keep looking over my shoulder for some under-educated-but-over-indoctrinated White man in a khaki safari suit and a comb stuck in one of his long socks, who's going to roughly evict me from yet another hallowed Whites-Only space. Hard to shake those memories. Like scar tissue after surgery, the humiliation never completely goes away.  If you've never experienced it, don't even think of telling someone who has, to get over it. That's something only they can decide.   

                                          Solo Session 2: Two Athenaeum photos, by Marwhaan Lodewyk. 

My third Solo Session was held at Café Societi, at the Homecoming Centre, in District Six, on 22 October. I must admit, this was my favourite Session, so far. I practise consistently, so each time I feel more on top of my material. I loved the venue! I liked the starkness of the space, with its bare walls that reveal the original bricks, here and there. I liked the centrality and accessibility of the venue, as well.

But, of course, my favourite thing about the space was that it's part of the Homecoming Centre, which is part of the District Six Museum and all that it stands for, formally commemorating the forced removals in that area, and paying tribute to the many victims of that inhumane, racist programme. The slogan on the outside wall of the D6 Museum, "Wherever we are, we are here" hits me in the gut, everytime I see it. 

As for the venue as a performance space, I could happily return there, over and over again. It feels like part of my DNA.  

With my third Solo Session, I got detailed performance notes from my daughter, giving me constructive criticism on every song, as well as on the show as a whole. This is something which, as a performer, I can't get enough of. Every performer needs someone giving honest, no-holds-barred feedback that is aimed at improving the overall performance. I am lucky that my daughter - who studied performance for 4 years, during which she had to learn to deal with very blunt feedback - is around, to help me on my journey. I appreciate it more than you could possibly know.     

        Solo Session 3, at Café Societi, Homecoming Centre, District Six. Photo: Lisba Vosloo

         A photo by Summer Dawn, capturing how magical the space is for an intimate performance.  

Two cool things that happened ahead of Solo Session 3 were a short article of me in the Tatler, one of  Cape Town's community newspapers, and a ten-minute radio interview with Sara-Jayne Makwala King, on Cape Talk.

In my next post, I'll share the Tatler article and the link to the radio interview.

Exciting news - I'm the featured guest on another radio station, CCFM 107.5FM, this coming Saturday, 5 November, from 7 - 9pm.  I'll be interviewed live in the studio by Daniel Petersen, the host of Just Jazz.  He'll also be playing a few of my tracks. 

How cool?! 

My Solo Sessions - Why now?

 I cannot believe it’s the 22^nd of September already!!!! What’s up with this year?!

SOLO SESSION 1

I did my first Solo Session on Sunday, 4 September, at Surplus Books, in Woodstock. It’s a really nice space to hold an event with about 30 people. I love venues that tell stories, so singing in a bookshop was wonderful. It was a stormy day, so the fact that more than 20 people braved the elements to be there, was a pleasant surprise.

As with everything I do, I always reflect and decide what I will and won’t do again. André Manuel did an audio recording, so I could listen back and learn from that Session. This is how I’ve been for as long as I can remember – I want people to give constructive criticism, so that I can do better, in future.  It’s less about perfectionism than it is about constant learning and growing, without which I’d feel there wasn’t much to look forward to.

I want to comment on two things that stood out, for me:

The first is that I was very nervous, and I couldn’t shake it for at least the first half of the show. It was a huge surprise to me, because I’ve sung my own songs many times in public, before – except, usually in a duo. The starkness of doing it solo, for a whole hour, made me feel a lot more vulnerable than I’d expected. There I was, having chosen to sing my songs and tell their stories, to a small audience, and yet it was terrifying to actually do so! I laugh at the memory of it now, because the next point will seem incongruous with what I’ve just written.  

The second thing that took me by surprise was how people enjoyed the humour in my songs. I’ve always had a sense of humour, so of course it would filter into my songs, but I hadn’t realised how people would react. I think it’s because I present as a very serious person, so people expect all my songs to be serious or sad. When you’re the one who wrote the material, you lose touch with how  funny it is. At one moment, my friend, Tina Schouw (one of my music heroes), laughed so explosively, that I couldn’t sing, because she made me laugh, too. 😊   

                   André and I, sound-checking before the first Solo Session. Photo: Faith Sheldon
 

WHAT WOULD’VE BEEN SOLO SESSION 2

I had arranged to have my second one at an art gallery in Muizenberg, on 17 September. I was really excited, as I love the idea of singing in an art gallery. I did so in 2005, in Buitenkant Street, when Dala Flat Music produced a three-concert series where I sang my songs with Hilton Schilder. Art galleries are rich with stories. The Muizenberg gallery owner and I had agreed on all the details. She insisted on doing the flyer, so I sent her the info and artwork, and we were going to start advertising on Monday, 5 Sept. I mentioned it on Facebook, and was expecting to upload the poster later that day, but, from that very day, I was unable to get hold of her on any of the platforms on which we’d been communicating. By the Thursday, I publicly announced the cancellation of the show. Up to today, I don’t know what happened. When I feel up to it, I will drive to the venue and see if I can get any answers. So – that was that. A real-life mystery. Disappointing, threw my plans out, but life goes on.

THE ACTUAL SOLO SESSION 2

My second Session now takes place on Sunday, 2 October, at The Athenaeum, in Newlands. This is a Victorian building, very close to the Newlands Stadium. Many people don’t even know it exists, despite there being a sign visible from the bridge next to it.  I’ve been fascinated by this place for years. In the early 1980s, when I was at Hewat Training College, I took guitar lessons with the late Neefa Van der Schyff, and I actually played a classical duet with another student in that venue! I remember also attending anti-apartheid gatherings there. Not sure if they were meetings or performance-type events. Anyway, I’ve always wanted to go back there and perform my work. I’ve booked the Drawing Room, so it’s a cosier space than the main hall, but what a charming setting! It’s now run as an NPC (Non-Profit Company), so the venue hiring rates are affordable. They have about six different spaces in the building that can be hired for different uses. There's a security entrance and off-street, safe parking right at the venue. I like that. 

SOLO SESSION 3

This time, I’ll be at Café Societi, which is in the foyer of the Fugard Theatre. The date is Saturday, 22 October, three weeks after my 2^nd one. I like that frequency, for now.

PREPPING FOR MY ATHENAEUM SESSION

Playing through the set I did at the bookshop, I decided to pitch out a few of the songs and replace them with others. I like that feeling. It will be mostly the same songs, but with a few significant changes. It’s an extremely personal thing, this entire project. I’m project managing the entire thing, I’m sourcing the venues, I’m doing the marketing, I’m selling the tickets, and I’m the only one performing – and performing my own compositions. It doesn’t get more personal than that. So deciding what to sing has got to be my choice, and no-one else’s. If I ask for input, that’s different.

I can’t even begin to tell you how profoundly different this is to what I usually do, which is to sing cover versions, either solo or in a duo. There’s something about singing songs you wrote yourself, and telling the back stories, that feels like pulling the skin off your body and revealing the real you, underneath.

Like I did with prepping for Session 1, I set up my P.A. system, tune my guitar, start the stopwatch, and perform the entire hour set, including the talking bits. Early in my practising, I had to remind myself  to factor in the applause. Weird.   

WHY NOW?

Given the skin-peeling analogy, you may wonder why I’m doing this project at all! There are a few main reasons and probably tens of sub-issues feeding into them. I want to share my original songs with people, because, through them, I tell the story of my life. While my songs don’t dwell on the adversity I’ve faced, as a woman, they do show how my twin passions for words and music combined to become the vehicle in which I travelled through life. My songs are like journalling to music, and in my songwriting, I found the courage I sometimes lacked in real life. Most importantly, I want to sing them while I still can. Two recent things - surviving the Covid-19 pandemic, and turning 60 – gave me a sense of urgency about doing what I’d been putting off for so long.   

But there’s another reason – in a sense, the biggest reason. Because people see me as a strong, empowered woman, they don’t know how fraught my music journey has been with gatekeeping from other musicians, who wouldn’t let me sing my own songs at gigs where mostly covers were being sung. What the actual fuck?! Every cover we do started out as an original that hadn’t been heard yet! And you know what’s even worse? I allowed them to silence me!

And even when I did sing my own songs, I had to put up with arrogance onstage. In an ensemble gig, in 2019, where the others in the band had got the gig through me, we were playing the intro to the next song, when one of the musicians pointed out to another that he was looking at the wrong chart. Instead of just flipping the page, he said “They all sound the same, anyway!” A few seconds later, I had to sing.  I’m a sensitive person and I found that offensive, but I didn’t say anything. I just felt awful for the entire gig. I handed over my power, my agency, and simply believed what he said, because he was so highly regarded in the music world. And, no - my songs don't all sound the same.  

I’M NOT THAT PERSON ANYMORE. I’ve grown. It was just a matter of time. I trust my gut and I don't put people on pedestals anymore. As the late Maya Angelou said, “When you know better, do better.” And this is what my project is about. I am finally saying, in no uncertain terms: the ONLY person who can give me permission to sing my own songs is ME.

As I wrote, in one of my songs: “I’m not waiting for your ok – I know when I’m right or wrong.”

Mic drop!   

September 2022 - A New Chapter

My month has finally arrived! No matter how old I get, my birthday month will always feel like an exciting new beginning, to me.  

For us, in the southern hemisphere, it’s the end of winter and the start of spring (only on the 23^rd, as I’ve been reminded all morning, on Facebook), which in itself is a huge relief and cause for celebration. I think our winters are getting colder every year. The uncomfortable part is that our houses weren’t built with that in mind, so we shiver as much indoors as we do out.

So much has happened since I last blogged. I journal every day, so I feel like I’ve already written about it, but of course that’s my private writing.

But before I write about the new energy (and project), I want to briefly write about what was happening in my life one year ago. On 1 September 2021, my daughter and I took a road trip to a coastal town called Onrus (127km away), where we stayed in a self-catering Airbnb for two nights. She had her learner’s license at that stage, but drove both ways – one, inland, and the other, right at the sea. My nerves, as we drove back!! It was one of those winding roads with a sheer drop to the sea. And it was raining! I think I clenched my fists for the entire drive. But she was a confident driver by then, so she handled it calmly, and enjoyed the experience. Two months later, she passed her driver’s test at her first attempt. That whole journey (her learning to drive) merits its own blog post. 😄

Our little getaway came immediately after I’d left a job after five and a half years. When the company informed us of yet another wave of retrenchment, I initially feared I'd be selected, but then decided it was actually a good time to leave – for many reasons – and voluntarily placed my name on the list. I could have taken a plane trip somewhere and indulged in an expensive holiday, but I had to think ahead – I’d left a job without having lined up a new one, and my retrenchment money needed to sustain us for a few months.  The trip we took satisfied my need to be in a fresh location, near the sea, and spending that kind of time with my adult daughter was invaluable. We had fun, and we often talk about doing another one, when the time is right.     

So where will we go this year? Actually nowhere, for now. In the first week of August this year, I suddenly became unemployed. Again! Very different circumstances, this time. I had been doing part-time work on a project for which I had not signed a contract. I found myself dealing with toxic communication, I kept requesting that it be addressed, and eventually I felt so disrespected that I offered to leave upon submission of my next invoice. I was told I could leave immediately. Many lessons learnt. I let myself down by entering into a verbal agreement, and not insisting on a contract, but I honoured myself by refusing to be silent. I’ve lived through enough - as a person of colour, as a woman, and as an employee in different spaces, both civil and corporate – to recognise abuse of power when I see it, and I refuse to sacrifice my mental and physical health for any entity that does not afford me basic respect.       

A NEW CHAPTER

While I have not found a new “day job” yet (high on the priority list), I am about to start a very exciting phase of my music life. In a few days’ time, I will be doing my first One-Hour Solo Session, in which I will sing a selection of my original songs and share the stories behind the songs. This is something I’ve thought about, on and off, for years, but there’s always been some reason or other that I’ve put it off. Actually, just one reason – complete, numbing fear. This despite all my years of performing, initially as a soloist, then in bands, and then, for the past 19 years, mainly in duos.

In recent months, however, as I’ve found myself dealing with other shifts, I started feeling that the time was right to take this next step in my music life: to do solo performances of my own work, in interesting, intimate venues.

And so I started putting my concept together – first in my journalling sessions, and then talking to my confidantes. Even though the concept was so simple and one of my obvious next steps, I was still tentative when I started putting it into words.

And then I found myself being interviewed at a bookshop, and I found myself having a conversation about performing there, as part of their Women’s Month (August) programme.

At that stage, I became so obsessed with the idea, that I sprang into action like I hadn’t done (for myself) for a long time! I’ve been contacting and visiting venues, and starting to clarify my concept. I’ve had two distinct no’s and one hiring quotation that was above my current budget. My budget, by the way, is exactly what it was for the June concert I put on, with three other musicians – ZERO! I have plans to get funding for future concerts, but for now I am completely dependent on ticket sales to pay all service providers and earn a moderate gig fee.

I am over the moon about doing my first Solo Session at Surplus Books, in Woodstock. It seats 30, which is perfect for what I had in mind. I have André Manuel (Dala Flat Music) doing my sound, which gives me complete peace of mind. André has liked my compositions and believed in me since 2004, when I met up with him and his wife, Chantel Erfort, at Off Moroka, where I had a weekly gig with guitarist, Keith Tabisher and bassist, Donald Gain. Shoo, that was many moons ago! (Even further, as I was Chantel's Grade 1 teacher!) 

So what happened to the August performance? I caught a cold and had to postpone the session! I managed to get a new date for this coming Sunday, 4 September, and I cannot wait!!! Fortunately, most of the people retained their bookings, so I have just a few tickets left.   

                                                  

                        The final sunset of August 2022 - view from my kitchen window.

Today I am giving myself a break, staying in bed for as long as I can, drinking soothing and healing warm drinks, with fresh ginger, lemon and honey, and just resting. With the first Solo Session in just three days, I want to be as calm and focussed as possible.

With a few more Solo Sessions confirmed for this year, I start advertising my second one on Monday. This one is in a completely different type of venue, with a completely different vibe. I'm very excited!

AND THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I WANT TO DO WITH MY LIFE: SING MY OWN SONGS, PLAY MY GUITAR AND TELL MY STORIES, TO LISTENING AUDIENCES, IN INTERESTING & INTIMATE SETTINGS.

Alongside this plan/goal/dream, are a few related projects, on which I’ve already started working. Basically, by 1 September 2023, my WHOLE life will have changed.

I turn 61 in 9 days – I owe it to myself to live the life of my choice, and to do so in a way that allows me to share the songs I’ve spent the past 44 years writing.  

Peace 💜  

Not my favourite season

Another cold, rainy day. As much as I don't like to admit it, I am very affected by the weather. Cape Town has lovely summers, and we tend to live as though that is normal and everything else, an aberration. We bitch our way through winter, complaining about the cold, the rain and the darkness. Actually, just like in life, we should just accept that both types, including their extremes, are perfectly normal. We're lucky that we even get to experience the in-between seasons, autumn and spring, unlike many other countries. 

We have other challenges, here, though - our houses seem to have been built before South African  winters became this cold. The house in which I live is very draughty. It's not comfortable in winter; there are gaps by the doors and windows, letting in all the chills. My bedroom is the coldest in the house, as it's the southernmost room, with three external walls. On really cold nights, I sleep with a woollen cap, as well as a scarf around my neck.  Oh, and socks are a given.

When I visited Sweden, in 2017, one of the things that struck me was how well-insulated the buildings were. People would wear t-shirts indoors, then slip on warm, protective clothing to go out. Back indoors again, they'd wear thin clothing. It's interesting how carefully planned infrastructure impacts on everyday life, making things comfortable and pleasant for the people. South Africa has been so focussed on politics, and all the fall-out from apartheid, that it has failed to effectively deal with some of the most glaring human crises around the country. A lot has changed, which we tend to forget, while criticising the powers that be, but we all feel that a lot more could have been done. For me, our country is yet another example of a leadership vacuum. In any situation where the leaders are focussed on themselves and not on their constituents, employees or beneficiaries, that's a recipe for disaster.  

I think that the two sectors of South African society that seem to be playing an effective role in alleviating the suffering of the poor,  are faith-based organisations and NPOs (Non-Profit Organisations). Having said as much, I have to say that people are people, and you'll find instances of corruption in both of those sectors. One of the biggest sources of funding to NPOs in our country is the National Lotteries Commission, the COO (Chief Operating Officer) of which has recently been suspended for a THIRD time, under suspicion of having redirected funds to himself, to the tune of millions of rand.  

It's almost one year since I left my last permanent job, within a big company. I'm still freelancing. Currently doing only one job consistently, but picking up some small jobs here and there. I really enjoyed the proofreading I did, recently, and want to do more of that. I like the freedom of working from home, for many reasons. I don't have to drive anywhere (petrol's become SO expensive!!!), I can dress casually, I can eat and drink whenever I like, and I can manage my other tasks around my working hours. What I like to do is allocate a number of hours to my job, and be flexible with when those hours are. That leaves me free to go to meetings (about prospective jobs, including music opportunities), do grocery shopping, or even meet friends for coffee. It also means that I can work at night sometimes, if I've had a busy day. Having said as much, the advantage of working fulltime is of course the salary, as well as the peace of mind - relatively speaking, since I have been retrenched three times, while on permanent contracts.  

One of my biggest challenges, throughout my life, has been feeling "not good enough". Even now, at age 60, when I am offered an opportunity, the first thing I think is, "Why are they asking ME?!"  And the second thing I think of is a list of people I should recommend, instead. Where does it come from? When will I finally stop defaulting to self-deprecating mode? Everytime I think I've overcome it, I find myself doing it again. A few days ago, I was offered an opportunity to do something at an NPO, and today I was offered another opportunity to play some role related to young people from disadvantaged areas. I said Yes to both, but believe me, even while I was doing so, I was dealing with major imposter-syndrome energy. I'll write about the actual experiences after they've happened. 

Oh, I finished my blanket for the 67 Blankets for Mandela Day project, and handed it in this week. I am very proud of it, and I hope whoever gets it snuggles up warmly under it and feels all the love with which it was made. I took nine and a half weeks to complete it, and I'm very happy with it. I used mostly yarn that I had at home, but bought a few extra balls, to keep the colour pattern going. 

I've already started my next one. I was going to make a garment, but saw a ball of cute yarn called Pumpkin, which looked more like the inside of a guava, so I bought it and started making a small blanket, with a few other complementary colours. This will be suitable for a baby. Now to find a baby! Haha! I'll make the garment next, following a cute pattern I found on YouTube.   

I got the official concert photos from our photographer, Bianca Rasmussen, and it was lovely to look at them and relive the experience. I selected a few and uploaded them onto Facebook. I've been working on my next concert, but haven't nailed anything down yet. It will come together in its own time. You know the biggest lesson I've had to learn, in the process? Be discerning with whom you talk to about your concept. People can be so negative! I'd rather have 3 people who believe in me and support my ideas than 30 people who give me reasons why my concept will not work. I don't mind constructive criticism - in fact, I even ask for it - but downright negativity just pisses me off. When I was married, my then-husband did not understand me and my passion for music. He found every way to discourage me from even taking my guitar to friends' houses and playing at social gatherings. In my culture, we sit around fires and sing together, and if there's a guitar, even better. He couldn't relate to that kind of uncomplicated, unselfish sharing of oneself, so he dismissed it. He said I was looking for attention. In 1997, I did a demo tape (it was on casette at the time), and in 1998, took quite a few with me, when we travelled to the UK and US, on holiday. One day, we pulled up at the robots outside Capitol Records, in Los Angeles, and I said, "Hey, let me run inside and drop off a demo!" Without hesitation, he told me that that wasn't Cape Town, that many talented people handed in demos all the time, and that I shouldn't bother. And I didn't. It took me way too many years to fully realise that that wasn't about MY talent, but about HIS fear of taking risks! HIS fear of putting yourself out there and seeing how it works out. HIS insecurity!  

So, after living through different versions of that, I decided that life works much better when I'm solo. I have a hard enough time dealing with my OWN insecurities! If I can't have a partner who enhances my life, making it more beautiful and magical, I'd rather be alone. 

It's just after 18h30 and it's pitch dark outside! I really don't like winter. Even worse, we've been having three loadshedding sessions a day, where the electricity is off for two and a half hours per session. Daytime loadshedding is one thing, but at night....! Oy!     

I feel like I've spent this whole post complaining. Sorry!

To end off, here's a picture of the blanket I donated, showing the edging I decided on. 

                                 My contribution to the 67 Blankets for Mandela Day, 2022.  

                                         I look forward to making another one next year. 

     

This Is My Journey

Three days ago, I did my first concert in three and a half years. This time, we were four musicians, from two generations: Keith Tabisher (guitarist, composer), Summer Dawn (singer-songwriter), Clayton Seas (guitarist) and I. It was our shared hunger to perform live that found us creating  our own event.  

There’s so much I want to write about. As someone who pays great attention to detail, I believe everything has at least three phases – before, during and after. In every phase, I could easily be accused of overthinking, but the ‘after’ phase is definitely a time for reflection and assessment.  I sometimes forget that not everyone is as critical as I am, and  - even more importantly – that not everyone wants to deal with constructive criticism. So I do it as a solo activity, unless an opportunity arises – in a line-up like this one - to reflect, as a group.  I learnt from my mother, who performed from age 14 to 82, the importance of listening to recordings of your performances, in order to learn and grow.  

For me, this concert was about so much more than anyone may realise.

·       It was a celebration of life, having survived the past two and a half years of the Covid pandemic. 

·       It was a reclaiming of my identity as a performer of original work and a creative entrepreneur.

·       It was a celebration of the three people with whom I shared the stage:

 – Keith, whom I’ve known since high school, who’s been my duo music partner since 2003, and who’s shared so much of my music journey;

-           Clayton, a talented young man I met in Sweden, in 2017, when he was a teenager. He was part of the  World’s Children’s Prize band, and I was attending the gathering as a representative of one of the funders. Three months later, I included him in a concert I did at the Nassau Hall, in Cape Town. Since then, we’ve been talking about another collaboration; and

-           Summer Dawn, my daughter. I’m acutely aware that, as an exceptionally talented and newly-qualified performer (after 4 years at the Waterfront Theatre School), with a busy performance schedule and an interest in working abroad, she might not be in South Africa for long. We love singing together, and I really wanted to perform in public with her, to share our sound, but also to seize the day, as it were. I also really wanted her to sing her originals. 

·       It also ended up being an opportunity to renew my working relationship with André Manuel, who did our sound and lighting. André and his wife, Chantel Erfort Manuel, the co-founders of Dala Flat Music, have played a huge role in my music journey, since 2004. In fact, André has done the sound for me at every one of my concerts.

·       It was an opportunity to perform original work. Even though only two items from the first set (Clayton & Summer) were originals, the entire second set consisted of Keith and my originals.

·       Venues always fascinate me, so it was a wonderful opportunity to perform in a historical church – the church my father attended as a boy, before the Group Areas Act forcibly removed “Coloured” people from Claremont. Singing my song, “In the Shade of Table Mountain”, about District Six, was deeply meaningful to me.

Now that we’ve done the concert and we’re just waiting for the official photos and video, I’m in deep reflection mode. What can I say? I’m a triple Virgo (yes – Sun, Moon and Ascendant), so detail is my game.   

In future, I would do two main things differently – use the performance space better (we kept moving chairs and tangling cables), and stick to our planned timing. We ended much later, which was avoidable. Fortunately, these two things can be addressed. The other things I'd do differently are not for this post.

I’ve listened to the audio recording of the concert twice already, and have been engaging with my own performance, confronting the bits I wasn’t happy with, but also appreciating the bits I’m proud of. To my surprise, I was incredibly nervous, which hasn’t happened to me for a long time. I need to spend some time processing what that was about, and how to eliminate it, in future.   

I loved collaborating with these artists, each of whom has a uniqueness that I enjoy and celebrate. The rehearsal process was enjoyable, and we got used to spending time together. Rehearsals are about so much more than just singing your songs repeatedly and agreeing on keys and tempos. There’s a group dynamic that is built, in the process – on stage, everyone depends on everyone else. That trust grows during the rehearsal process.

This concert was remarkable, in that we put it on without any funding, relying 100% on ticket sales to cover our costs. Along the way, I kept the artists aware of the range of our earning possibilities, depending on the number of tickets sold. Two of our core service providers turned down remuneration, which was extremely generous. 

In closing, I want to say that, for me, this concert has highlighted two things, crucial to my journey; things that will undeniably inform my choices from now on:

·       This is the first concert I’ve put on (since 2009), where I’ve included myself as someone to be paid. Yes, for the very first time, I have earned something from one of my concerts, and not run at a financial loss. I’m consciously breaking patterns that no longer serve me.  It’s part of living with healthier boundaries, and of honouring myself as I do others.

·       Singing my own songs to a live audience is a completely different, and far more fulfilling, experience to singing covers as background music. As with most things in life, it doesn’t have to be all or nothing - the latter (singing covers) is always going to be about staying musically active and earning something in the process. But where my heart lies is in singing the songs I wrote - the songs that tell the stories inside me.

I’ve already got my next concert concept buzzing around my brain. I don’t want to lose momentum. Ultimately, I have to learn how to best manage my energy output. At age 60, I feel the need to accelerate plans I’ve put on hold for so long.  I want to push beyond my self-imposed boundaries.

As I sing in one of my songs, “This is my journey / The road ahead, the road behind / My journey – who knows what I’ll find?”   

              L-R: Clayton, Keith, Trudy & Summer (Photo: Berne Muthien / 25 June 2022)