"If there's music inside of you, you've got to let it out." (From my song, Music Inside of Me)

Hi! I'm Trudy Rushin, and this is my blog, created in June 2009. I am a singer-songwriter-composer who plays guitar. Born and bred in Cape Town, South Africa, I blog about whatever captures my imagination or moves me. Sometimes I even come up with what I like to call 'the Rushin Solution'. Enjoy my random rantings. Comment, if you like,
or find me on Facebook: Trudy Rushin, Singer-Songwriter.

I also do gigs - solo, duo or trio - so if you're looking for vocal-guitar jazz music to add a sprinkle of magic to your event, send me an e-mail to guitartrudy@gmail.com.

To listen to me singing one or two of my original songs, type my name on www.soundcloud.com or www.youtube.com


















Saturday 7 November 2009

Music Inside Of Me


Tonight I do my next duo gig with Wayne at The Food Lover's Market, my 19th consecutive Saturday there, and the start of our fifth month. A few years ago, I had a 5-month resident gig at Off Moroka, in Adderley Street. I worked there with guitarist Keith Tabisher, and our duo grew into a trio when Donald Gain, a double bassist, joined us. The restaurant has since closed, and unfortunately the enigmatic guy who ran it, Richard Ishmail, has since died. I have many fond memories of that place, and one of them is doing my first guest appearance as a songwriter at one of the Poetry Sessions organised by Richard. That was in 2004, the day that South Africa heard the shocking news of Brenda Fassie's death. I remember a fairly inebriated guy in the audience asking me my opinion of her (music), and there was something so threatening about his demeanour, that I needed to draw on all my diplomatic vocabulary, to get through the experience intact, and to get to my performance in a focussed way!

I did a half-hour slot of my own compositions, accompanying myself on guitar.
The audience was filled with poets and others who had come to listen to poetry, so my inclusion, a departure from the usual programme, may easily not have been welcomed. To my delight (and relief!), the response was not only tolerant, but extremely positive, with people asking me all kinds of questions afterwards. It gave me an idea, for the first time ever, of how my songs mght be received by the public, were I to expose them more.

I sang my songs at a few other poetry sessions, organised by Dala Flat Music, and there again I realised that:
1. I needed a listening audience, like the ones that attend poetry sessions
2. people enjoyed my songs

What astounded me was how many women would come up to me after a performance and say they'd had similar experiences to what I'd sung about, but that they could never have articulated their feelings like I had done in my lyrics. That was interesting.

There was a time in my life that I thought I'd never sing my songs in public, because I was constantly told that they were "too personal". I've come a long way since then: I trust my own judgement about what's right or wrong for me.

In four weeks' time, I do a concert of original compositions, called "Music Inside Of Me", one of my song titles. I had been married for six years when we split up, and it was while I was going through a year-long divorce, that I wrote the song. I remember a friend commenting, when I told her I'd just written my first song since the split, " I suppose it's a sad song". I looked at her, smiled and shook my head. It was anything but a sad song! I realised how different people's perceptions of us can be to what we're actually feeling.

The gist of the song is, "If there's music inside of you, you've got to let it out."
I had had a period of years of viewing myself through someone else's eyes, of allowing someone else's perception of me to cloud my own, and I had emerged with the clarity I'd lacked before - that there's only thing you HAVE to do in life, and that's to be exactly who you are. (In one of her books, Maya Angelou says there are only two things she has to do in life: stay black, and die!). I'd tried to be what I wasn't, suppressing the confident, spontaneous, goofy side of me, and after too many years of failing myself in that way, I made a choice to free myself, and to live a more authentic life. The best way I could process that experience was to write about it, and because music and words course through my veins as naturally as my heart beats, I wrote a song about it.

An astrologer told me, once, that my relationship with someone had been karmic, and I asked what that meant. She explained that certain people were sent our way to teach us valuable lessons. It had nothing to do with how long the relationship lasted, or what the nature of the relationship was - it just meant that through that person's influence, positive or negative, you would learn certain important lessons. I now know that some of my most valuable lessons have been learnt through what seemed like extremely adverse circumstances. Which is also why I'm as patient as I am, because my Great Teacher, my garden, has shown me that sometimes you can't avoid handling some fertiliser before the true beauty of the garden can emerge.

But, I digress!

I need one more musician to complete my band for the 2-set concert on the 6th of December. This week, I'll choose the songs I'll be doing, and start working on them. I'm so excited, because I feel like my music has come alive in the past year, since I started taking lessons with Wayne, and I'm looking forward to performing my original songs to an audience, with my new approach, some new chords, and of course some new songs. I'm putting a fresh spin on all the songs, whether by changing the arrangements, the chords, the rhythms or the tempos. This concert will be different to any other I've done, where I've performed my compositions. The most important shift, with the whole show, will be the shift that's happened (and continues to happen)inside of me. Which is why I chose that title for the show. I'm way past the time of wondering how people will receive my songs - these are my creations, my inner processes, and all I'm doing is sharing them with the public. I don't care who likes them and who doesn't, who thinks they're too personal, or not African enough - seriously, I don't care.

Like recently, I had my hair cut, and had to deal with all the comments that people always feel they need to make. A young colleague (with the most amazing hair - long, funky, super-curly!), when I shared some of the comments with her, said, "People ask me why I don't wear my hair this way or that, and I always reply: Why would I want to look like everyone else?!". Oh, to have been that wise that young!

And so, with just a few weeks to go, I have a lot of organising to do. This week, I'm getting the tickes printed and starting with my 4-week marketing programme. I need to contact the media, and get some photos out there, as well as an article or two. I need to spend time on the overall concept, and work on how it translates into the details, the little extras one adds, to make the show memorable. If I can, I'll have it recorded, but I want it done properly or not at all. I have to think about the stage, the printed programme, etc. etc.

This is what makes me tick!

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