Saw Michael Franti at the Salvage Station in Asheville a couple nights ago, with my almost-16 year old son Ben. Ended the night in a sea of hearts joined by arms of sooo many different colors, patterns (nice tats ;), shapes, sizes, clothing (or lack thereof)...watching Ben experience a wee bit of unity in diversity, loving the lovefest. Thank you Michael and Spearhead for bringing us back to us, again and again ❤️
Enjoy this clip of “Good (stuff) happens”...I can’t find the real title anywhere, so if u know it, feel free to shoot it to me so I can properly credit Da Man ;)
As I prepared for the Sunday Salon at the River House in Grassy Creek, NC, I found myself feeling nostalgia for all the points in my life that found me intersecting with what I needed most at the time. Maybe it is the power of the river...maybe the quaint setting overlooking a slice of God’s Country...and definitely it is Gayle’s iridescent energy that enlivens the venerable House, the intentionally exceptional food, and all who are lucky enough to share her time there.
For me, my journey back home to music was shepherded by the River House. One Sunday Salon (maybe 2007?), I met Greg Carroll after his show to ask if he knew a good local vocal coach. If you knew Greg, one of the original InkSpots who made his “retirement” home in Ashe county, you will smile when you hear his response: “Baby, that’s me - I’m the best!” followed by a flurry of kisses he placed on his own arms, in self-love.
After that, Greg and I met once a week for a few months, while he patiently uncovered the voice that was mine - not Billie Holliday, Sarah Vaughn, Ella or countless others I had learned to mimic in the years I memorized each little nuance of their classic styles. He helped me find my voice.
When his accompanist from the River House came one afternoon to play for me, we burned through a number of songs before I sat down at his keyboard and played a little. Classic Greg: “Baby, you gotta play for yourself!” Classically trained, I had no idea how to transition to accompanying myself, let alone improvising and playing “jazz piano” like I always dreamed. Enter Mr. Right, Dave Braun, whom I met in late 2008...there’s another story there for another time...this story is about his depth of experience and amazing gift as a music educator.
When we met, I couldn’t even play the simple chords to “You Are My Sunshine”, and sing along. Sad. REALLY sad. I could play Debussy, Greig, and Tchaikovsky...but not a C chord in rhythm. So Dave started me with playing a simple left hand one note bass line in rhythm, then adding chords, then after a few weeks adding a few more notes in the left hand...and I spent every evening after work, after the kids were in bed, playing any song I knew the lyrics too, sounding like a hack -- a HACK -- for sooooo long.
Until I didn’t. I learned jazz chords, and started making my own arrangements for the songs I loved...and then a strange thing happened. I started writing my own songs. Lyrics were pouring out from some cloud of emotion and meaning...some of them I related too from times already lived, and some of them prophetic about times to come.
The River House was a favorite spot for us to go for fine dining, and we often ended up playing music. Dave trained me essentially as his accompaniest, to play just the right way to enhance his sound, to come in at the right time on the harmony - it was a joy to experience the energy we created through music. And my first attempts at “playing out” as anything other than a classical musician were with Dave...many at the River House.
We shared some amazing dinners with so many of our best friends there, always grateful for Gayle’s divine creations. And our friends were so gracious, enjoying the energy of the music with us, even when I was still nervous and oh-so mistake prone, cringing with every wrong note, making Dave laugh at my self-consciousness with his easy crowd-pleasing style.
I had to say goodbye to Greg a few years back, when he left the earth too soon; Dave’s road headed south away from mine awhile ago too...but the memories of unexpected gifts I found at the River House are with me as my journey continues.
And last weekend, when I played “jazz piano”, covering Nina Simone, Joni Mitchell, and Jobim, and threw in a few of my originals - some old, some new - I was watching the River, the new friends smiling and chatting on the porch, and thinking of the roads, the intersections and the journey...looking forward to the next direction and the gifts yet to discover.
Thank you Gayle, Virginia, Julie, Joyce, Kari, Staci, Delanay, Jennie and Bob, Josette and Alfred, Steve, and all the other beautiful folks who shared a magical afternoon at the River House...looking forward to our paths crossing again ;)