Random Russian

Photo - sign outside The Food Lover's Market on Saturday night.

Sunday morning, 13/09/09
Last night’s gig was very satisfying to me, as far as my bigger picture was concerned, namely, my promise to myself that this phase of my music career was going to be about growth in every possible way, about pushing personal boundaries, and about taking control of my destiny. I put together a three-set repertoire of songs and instrumental items, most of which Wayne and I had not done before as a duo. In some cases, I did songs that I personally had known most of my life, but seldom, if ever, performed to an audience, like “My Love”, by Paul Mc Cartney, by way of acknowledging the Beatles in this historic week.

I can’t deny that there’s something magical about working with Wayne. He’s a lot younger than I am, and comes from a different background, having been exposed primarily to Gospel music and not that much secular music, aside from his formal studies and his gig experience, so his frame of reference is very different to mine. But the magical part is, he’s confronted with the chart for the song (chords set out in bars) or, in some cases, the actual score (sheet music), but the song itself is often completely new to him – and then, using his incredible technical skill, and adding the X-factor that makes him who he is, he feels the song’s mood and interprets it exactly the way it should be played. I am convinced that’s not something that can be taught – he was born with that; it’s his gift. For me, as a singer, working with an accompanist who is all about music, entirely lacking in the guile and arrogance that occasionally become mistaken for “an artistic personality”, is itself a wonderful gift. Of course I have worked with other musicians who don’t fall into that category, but that’s not the point here – here I’m talking specifically about the person I work with now.

For some reason or other, I’ve always tended to rush through songs that could be taken at a much slower tempo – maybe it’s part of the success story of that old socialization process of playing yourself down, staying in the background, not putting yourself out there consciously – which, as you can imagine, is extremely schizo for a performer! One of the lessons I’m learning, now, is to take a ballad at its correct tempo, to feel it, to breathe through it, to live inside the song – and I’m learning that through the teachings, conscious and unconscious, of my guitar teacher and duo partner, Wayne Bosch.

A word I like to use, to articulate how I choose to walk this journey of life, is “unapologetically”. I choose to unapologetically put myself out there, and do my thing. In many ways, it goes against the Anglican upbringing I had, which was rooted in the Biblical doctrines of modesty and piety. But even then, I was raised by a mother who herself was a performer, and for whom music and live performance were like oxygen. So, no surprise that this turns out to be my overriding passion, as well! Interesting, too, that yesterday morning my daughter played the violin in their school’s orchestra at the Two Oceans Aquarium , and my son played drums in a jazz ensemble session, at Jazz Workshop.

By the way, my mom is now 79, and she still sings at concerts, her years of training and practice having ensured that her voice, even at this age, is still incredibly beautiful! She’s a classical singer, having done entire operas as the leading soprano. These days, she sings at concerts to help raise funds for different organizations, or to entertain groups of senior citizens.
(Her life story is remarkable, and I should write it, in collaboration with her.)

Also no surprise that, at age 48, I’m still working towards my debut original CD, because the age factor is actually quite irrelevant, all things considered. I’ve always rejected the notions that, firstly, a woman has to hide her age (?!!!!), and secondly, one has to wind down after a certain age. Naturally, I see, feel and embrace the inherent changes that come with age, but the idea of limiting my possibilities in life because I have reached a certain age…… huh?! It’s like saying, Now that I’ve become a mother, I’ll no longer wear jeans, or dance or swim or……..! I just don’t subscribe to that kind of closed-mindedness. Never have, never will. To use a word my kids over-use, it’s really quite “random”! Every person is unique, so everyone’s journey through life is unique.

Three years ago, my cousin, Judy Dudley, died, aged 42, about six weeks after being diagnosed with cancer. She was in hospital for ten days, and I saw her on most of those days, first fighting valiantly, and then succumbing to the inevitable destination her condition was moving her towards. Three months before that, I’d lost my dad, aged 74. He, too, ended this phase of his journey in a hospital bed, riddled with pain and fever as a result of multiple infections. He’d been diagnosed with diabetes in his fifties, and had eventually become insulin dependent, needing to inject himself daily. By the time he died, he had had a traumatic year of repeated hospitalization and recovery periods, but I think he eventually became tired of the fight to keep going. Granted, some of his choices in life predisposed him towards the kinds of health issues he had to deal with, but what the hell……., he lived his life, chose his path, lived unapologetically. His name was John Rushin, known to most as “Johnny”, to some childhood friends as “Kaffir”(!), and to two of us, as “Dad”. He was a colourful character, referring to himself as “JR”, and pronouncing his surname,”Russian”, unlike the more commonly-used “Rooshin”.

The point is: those two deaths shook me up, and made me look at my life and its many, many gifts, the endless possibilities and opportunities. When something difficult came my way, and I agonized about how terrible/unfair life was, I’d think about the fact that Dad and Judy didn’t have any possibilities in this realm anymore, and that I was alive, and had so many options at my disposal. Their deaths, coupled with surgery and a close shave with cancer, myself, in March 2007 (waited for lab results of biopsy for two agonizing weeks!), made me decide to embrace one of my main driving philosophies:
“I am alive, so I might as well be very alive!”