Friday, August 9, 2013

Lunenburg Folk Harbour's First Songwriting Camp

It's been an intense few days. Wow.

Co-facilitating the first ever Folk Harbour Songwriting Camp with Kev Corbett was a full-on three days of heart and craft. In trying to teach some young folks how to find out what they had to say and how to say it well in a song, I learned a ton. I learned a ton from our participants. I also learned a ton from Kev, who's a stellar musician.

We went over structure and lyric-writing technique. We listened to songs by masters of the craft. We worked on figuring out guitars and PAs and our voices. We were lucky enough to have visits from David Myles and Rose Cousins, who shared some of their songwriting secrets and gave feedback on some of our participants' tunes.

And we wrote. It was a jam-packed few days.

I think the most poignant moment for me was toward the end of the third day, when I shared this quote with the camp:

“Singers and Musicians are some of the most driven, courageous people on the face of the earth. They deal with more day-to-day rejection in one year than most people do in a lifetime. Every day, they face the financial challenge of living a freelance lifestyle, the disrespect of people who think they should get real jobs, and their own fear that they’ll never work again. Every day, they have to ignore the possibility that the vision they have dedicated their lives to is a pipe dream. With every note, they stretch themselves, emotionally and physically, risking criticism and judgment. With every passing year, many of them watch as the other people their age achieve the predictable milestones of normal life – the car, the family, the house, the nest egg. Why? Because musicians and singers are willing to give their entire lives to a moment – to that melody, that lyric, that chord, or that interpretation that will stir the audience’s soul. Singers and Musicians are beings who have tasted life’s nectar in that crystal moment when they poured out their creative spirit and touched another’s heart. In that instant, they were as close to magic, God, and perfection as anyone could ever be. And in their own hearts, they know that to dedicate oneself to that moment is worth a thousand lifetimes.”
– David Ackert, LA Times

That's why we do what we do. It was an honour to help our young participants more fully join the ranks of the world's brave songwriters.

Thursday, July 25, 2013

My First Real Video

It feels like baby's first steps. My first professional video. I'm all a flutter.

It was a joy to shoot this with Analog Songs. (Thank you, Katy, Cameron and Stephen.)

This song is very meaningful and important to me and, I think, to our culture at large. I hope you will enjoy and share.


Harmony Bazaar Festival

Hi Everyone!

I can't believe I leave for Lockeport in the morning for the Harmony Bazaar Festival. I'm really looking forward to it and hope the weather holds out.

A quick run down of where I'll be:

Friday, July 26, 6:30-6:50 I have a solo set on the main stage to kick off the evening.
Saturday, July 27, 10-noon I'll be at the Lockeport Library playing some tunes with other fine festival performers.
Saturday, July 27, 2-3 I'll be back on the main stage for a songwriter's circle with Katey Day, Doris Mason and Christine Campbell
And
Sunday, July 28, 1-3:30 I'll be up on the mainstage for the Irish invitational to help close out the show.

I hope to see you there!

Thursday, July 4, 2013

The Listener's Power

I love the film Topsy Turvy, by Mike Leigh. It's about Gilbert & Sullivan and their creation of the Mikado. In the lead-up to Gilbert finding the subject matter for the Mikado, the cast of the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company are struggling through a summer run of the ailing Princess Ida in the middle of a London heat wave. Two of the male leads chat in their dressing room after a particularly hot performance:

Mr. Temple: My voice, my voice. I've strained my voice. I've been trying too hard. The smaller the house, the greater the effort. I'm very cross with myself. I should know better. One is knocking one's pipes out in a vain attempt to elicit a response from three colonial bishops, two elderly ladies and an intoxicated costermonger! They're all roasting their own lard like the Christmas goose!

Mr. Lely: Yes, and the costermonger left at the interval.

Mr. Temple: Did he?

Mr. Lely: Mmm.

Mr. Temple: A man of infinite taste, clearly.

No matter how many times I see this film, I always get a kick out of this exchange between two artists commiserating over their failure to reach their audience.

What happens when no one listens?

I recently played a benefit gig where I was asked to sing a few songs between courses at a dinner. The room was small, the organizers assured me, and there would be no need for a sound system.

What they did not take into consideration was that there would not be a listening audience.

It's an awkward thing when one has been asked to sing, but the audience is not interested in listening. I had a number of friends in the audience who backed me up with shushing, clapping and cheers, and I have plenty of experience playing in bars and restaurants where no one wants to listen, but it was still all I could do to fight my way through a handful of songs - especially since I was unplugged and recovering from a cold.

The audience has the power to co-create each performance – or not

Do you ever think about that when you go out to hear live music, or a play, or a poetry reading? Or perhaps you have gone out to dinner, only to discover that it's open mic night at the local bistro. By listening intently and meaningfully, the audience expands their experience of the performer(s). If you try to tune into it, you'll start to feel the connection between the performer and yourself, yourself and the rest of the audience. There is a magic to it; a magic that blesses the best shows.

I've had this experience countless times, both as a performer and as an audience member. I love to listen as much as I love to sing and I go to performances of all kinds with my heart wide open. I love to feel that I am part of a shared experience with everyone in the room, performer and audience alike. I see it as an opportunity for communion.

A couple of examples leap to mind

Many years ago, in my early 20s, I had the opportunity to hear Dr. Bernie Siegel, the oncologist and writer, speak at a conference. Years later, that talk is still seared into my mind. I felt as if he were speaking only to me, while at the same time knowing that almost everyone in the room must be feeling the same way.

More recently, I went to see Hawksley Workman perform at Massey Hall. Hawksley had a cold and was well dosed with cough drops and Sudafed. Half way through the show, the amplification cut out. Hawksely and his band continued playing, unplugged. Everyone in that sold-out audience was absolutely silent, to catch the sweetness of their fragility and courage. I was weeping and I bet a lot of other people were too. When the audience joined in on the chorus, there was an unforgettable sense of oneness. We were with Hawksley and with one another. Brave and defiant and gentle, undeterred by germs or mechanical failure.

This sense of communion is one of the reasons I love music shows at the West Dublin Hall. In addition to the ambiance and acoustics, the people who come to hear shows there really know how to be an audience. They come with their hearts and ears open. They know that there will be plenty of time to chat at the break and during the sets they listen, laugh, think, love and sometimes cry.

How to get the most out of every live performance experience

The next time you are out at a play, concert, poetry reading or talk, imagine that the performer is one of your best friends, about to tell you a treasured secret. Open your heart to receive and cherish what they have to say. Or, at the very least, imagine yourself in the performer's shoes and show respect for their courage in the same measure that you would like them to show it to you if your roles were reversed. I guarantee that you will hear interesting things that you would not otherwise hear.

It could change your life.

It has changed mine.

PS: The next times to participate in the magic at the West Dublin Hall are July 5, 2013, 8pm: Pennybrook's Tour and CD Launch and July 13, 2013, 8pm: Dana Beeler and Jordan Cameron.
E-mail me to reserve advanced tickets: mail[at]alexsings[dot]ca.


Alex Hickey is a Nova Scotian singer-songwriter and champion audience member. Her Web site is www.alexsings.ca. 

Monday, June 10, 2013

[from Hal McGee, our host on Sunday night]

Reminder of the
Janet Barkhouse & Alex Hickey
Owl’s Head Road House Concert Series
7:00 for 7:30 Sunday, 16 June 

For those of you who have responded, thank you; for those of you who have not, this is a reminder that there are somewhere around a dozen moderately comfortable seats still available. It is an opportunity to hear some finely crafted poetry and music. (I have assured Alex that tissues will be available for the tear-jerkers in her repertoire. You have to supply the laughter all on your own for the more humorous numbers).  Hearing Jan read is a delightfully rewarding treat, as those of you who attended the Astor Authors event last year can attest. 

At the moment, the weather forecast is good. An added treat is that B.B. King will be in attendance (BBK is a cat I am looking after for a friend). A good time to be had by all. 

RSVP to me: mail[at]alexsings[dot]ca and I'll put you in touch with Hal to reserve a seat. (I don't want to put Hal's email address on the great big Web).

The green-eyed monster

Envy.

It's been rearing its ugly head a lot over here, recently.

I'm envious of other people's accomplishments, even in the face of my own. How come that person gets to be younger, prettier, more talented? Gets to open for so-and-so, be the darling of that promoter or this radio station and just plain gets more attention than I do. 

It makes me want to sit in a corner and sulk. 

Western culture is bizarre about competition. We're obsessed with winning and achieving things. We teach kids in school to work hard for marks and to care about the hierarchy - who's smarter than whom, who's winning?

I was an academic whiz in school, so I got used to winning that race early on. I had my share of people who were mean to me because they resented my position in the academic hierarchy. You'd think that would have shown me the dark side of envy and made me less prone to it. But, I guess it didn't.

Envy especially seems to thrive because we're not supposed to talk about it. One of my favourite songs is about envy - My Cousin has a Grey Cup Ring by Donovan Woods. 



All the things I want in life  
He's got a car, and a beard and a wife 
He's not jealous of the way I sing 
But I'm jealous of his Grey Cup Ring

I love Donovan's light touch with how we often long for what we don't have. When I envy the young kids in my business with their energy and talent, do I really long to be twenty-five again? No, I wouldn't relive my twenties for all the gold in the Canadian North. My 20s sucked.

I find being kind to myself helps alleviate envy.

The external world might be all about winning and losing, but my internal world doesn't need to be.

Competition kills creativity. 

I heard Jamie Ridler interview Brené Brown once and that's what Brené said. And if you can't trust Brené Brown, who can you trust? 

Remembering to be grateful for what I have takes the focus off other people. Remembering to celebrate other people's accomplishments and be genuinely happy for them is important. And remembering that they are them and I am me is the most important. 

Nobody can be better at being me than me. 

And all I truly want is to be authentically myself, wherever that "gets me" in the exterior world.
Do you ever feel jealous - of colleagues, friends, even family? What sets off your green-eyed monster and how do you calm it down?

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Owl's Head Road Concert Series - Sunday, June 16

On June 16 at 7pm (for a 7:30 start) we will gather at the home of Hal McGee - my mom (poet Janet Barkhouse) and I - for a performance of poetry and song.

Mom and I write along similar themes, but with different perspectives and in different artistic fields. We've worked out an integrated set, well-balanced between poetry and song, dealing with love, loss, the environment, mindfulness, spirituality: the human experience. Both dark and light, it promises to be a moving and gripping show, with a few laughs thrown in for good measure.

Come join us in Hunt's Point, NS if you would like to experience an evening of poetry and music, deeply felt and considered. (To reserve tickets, please click to e-mail me.)