It’s the night before Falcon Ridge and all through the house …
I’ll take my first crack at sleep by 12:30a.m., I think. I could sleep 12 hours starting now and still be on time. It’s more likely I’ll lay awake in the dark. Before that, I’m cruising the internet on a desktop that lags 20 keystrokes behind me. I didn’t bring my laptop because I knew we would be having late nights and camping half the weekend. Also, my laptop seemed irrelevant to anything I hope to achieve this weekend.
We made short work of creating our little nest. I’m surprised at how well I remembered how to set it up. Despite Heather’s official expertise, I actually was able to correct something!
My eye is on the prize, you see, but not the one people might think. I’m not worried about “winning.” I want to undo the “one of these things is not like the other ones” sinking feeling I got when we left Kerrville after our finalist slot in 2005, having sold only 5 CDs, been elbowed out of song circles and doubling back a thousand miles.
I want to feel like we were accepted/respected by those we respect. I want to know that when it counts (when an audience decides our fate), I held my own. I want to move people in a way I can see; ridiculous applause, mad cd sales, an invite back … I’d take any single one of those. Please, God, don’t deny me any of those things at all after I waited so long to see what would happen here. After I dared to hope and believe in myself.
Because I feel that reaction – moving people – more now than I ever did six years ago. I can move people. At my recent shows at IOTA, the Everyday Gourmet open mic and Parallel Wine Bistro, I am surprising myself with how much I can. And I’m holding onto that pride and that faith in myself with everything I’ve got. I am more dedicated and more driven when it comes to this job than ever, as my life outside of it seems to shrink and dwindle. And still, “not good enough” rings in my ears there, just like it does in all the other parts of my life where I’ve fallen short. And I feel alone, and not truly part of the community to which I belong. Not truly part of anything, actually, even things I once connected with. And always afraid of being “found out,” when they realize I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m not the real musician they hope I am. I’ll admit to recently dodging a couple collaboration requests for this very reason.
I search “ilyaimy” “falcon ridge” online and restrict the parameters to the last month. One person says we didn’t do it for him at first, but the more he listened, the more he liked us. Concerts At Home claims us and six of the other 24 finalists as “one of their own,” as we’ve done house concerts associated with them. Driftwood Magazine encourages people to see us and We’re About 9, our “yearbook buddies” from when all the bands began in Baltimore a long time ago.
An image search turns up images from a long time ago. Me with a notebook in my hand in front of Jennie’s TV in Colorado that first winter on the road. I know what I am doing there … I’m so early in my career … I’m a novice, but not yet regretful or afraid of the mistakes I will make. I am writing “In the Water,” the first of my songs to ever win anything or be recognized. It was inspired by Brian Gundersdorf’s song – a then live contest entry – “For One More.” Brian will be at Falcon Ridge tomorrow and the day after. He’s even been my adviser ahead of time, when I questioned what I should play. I trust him, and so now I try to trust myself.
Almost all of us performers, good and mediocre alike, feel this way, I know. That’s why so many kill themselves, drink, seek approval in various ways or eschew all such recognition and go as wierd as they can.
I just want to feel … like in those six years since our last big shot, I got something right, and that it might be right enough to hold up everything else that’s wrong or changing or might never be healed at all.
1 thought on “July 21st, 2011.”
Yes you CAN move people…I am living proof! And there are many many others just like me. Don’t stop I’m begging you!