"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


















Thursday, 22 September 2022

My Solo Sessions - Why now?

 I cannot believe it’s the 22nd 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 2nd 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!   

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