What's It Like?

As I was beginning to put together the May/June 2001 issue of my online newsletter, "Wendy V's Local Blend", I selected a random sampling of some local musicians I knew and posed these questions:

What's it like to have the gift of musical talent?

When did you first realize you had that gift?

I planned on using a few selected comments as a brief newsletter feature. However, as the responses came in, I realized that the questions took on a life and path I hadn't expected. Many different insights came forth. Some were thought-provoking. Many of them were inspirational and very moving. 

It became obvious to me that these thoughts needed to live on beyond a quick clip on an online newsletter. Thus, I created this page as a home for all the responses.  Read them. Be inspired. Be blessed.  And feel free to add your own insights and thoughts. Send me an e-mail and I'll post any comments you'd like to share (some may be edited).
--Wendy

Comments from Minnesota musicians:

Amy Angeline    Lisa Kane    Amy and Adams     Michael Loonan    David Hanners

Tim Davey        Tim Helmen    Katy Tessman    Wayne Hamilton    Deb Harley    Brian Keenan

Rebekka Fisher    Brian Peterson    Scott Marrs


For the most part, having a musical talent is liberating, fun, and therapeutic. I love the fact that I can play an instrument whenever I feel like it, or open my mouth and sing a song and sometimes like the sound of what’s coming out. But most of all, I feel grateful for my musical talents, because it’s through these gifts that I am able to express myself. And the fact that I am able to share that gift with others makes it even more powerful.

I don’t really think I discovered my gift until "later in life." Although I did start playing the piano at age five, it was something that came easy to me. I could play songs by ear, and would sometimes fool my piano teacher into thinking I was reading the music when I really wasn’t. I assumed playing the piano well was something any kid could do if they played enough and practiced enough.

What I was aware of at that age, however, was my passion for music and performing. I would get my brothers and sisters to stage talent shows with me for our parents and relatives. And I remember non-intentionally entertaining the neighbors by singing John Denver songs from the toilet seat in my parents bathroom, for the acoustics of course. But I’d accidentally leave window wide open. I remember being flattered once when my neighbor said she thought someone was blaring the radio.

I think I first realized I had a gift when I started writing songs at the age of 27. It was almost like having an epiphany. I had been doing a lot of soul searching, trying to find my purpose in life, etc. I’d just finished my bachelor’s degree, and felt I had all this pent up creative energy, like a pot of water on the stove bubbling over. When I started putting words and music together, it felt like magic. Aha, the answer had finally come. And the possibility that I could perform those songs in front of people made it even more exciting.

But then I panicked. I thought, I have never sang in front of a soul in all my life (being in the choir doesn’t count.) Who do I think I am, pursuing a dream at this stage in the game? And I really didn’t think I could sing well, I just knew I had so much to say, and I had to let it out. So I started taking voice lessons, and tried not to worry about what my voice sounded like. I thought, if Bob Dylan can do it, I can do it, too. I gave my first public performance at the age of 29, and have been performing ever since. After shows, people often come up to me and say, "I assume this is something you’ve done all your life?" I am flattered, but I tell them the truth, that it’s still rather new for me. It turns out that I am often an inspiration to those who feel they have a dream that’s "too late to pursue."

The other side of having a gift, is realizing you have a choice whether to use it or not. It’s kind of like having a responsibility. And, like doing anything else worthwhile, in order to improve at it, you have to work at it continuously. You also become aware of what you can do with it, as well as what your limitations and weaknesses are.

I see my voice as being collective- one continuous stream from my writing voice to my singing voice. Like it’s one in the same. Having a singing voice also means it’s subject to opinion, like art. You realize that not everyone is going to like it. But I just sing from my heart and soul, hoping that I will reach someone. If I am able to touch someone’s heart through my music, that is the most gratifying experience I could ever ask for. Having a musical gift to share is empowering, uplifting, and I love it! --Amy Angeline

At the age of 8 my I created my first song. Raised Catholic, I was into the idea of another world and titled it "Someone up there" Today I am still creating songs and have been blessed with this wonderful gift that carries me across land and sea, still humming my very first melody even after 14 years. It is all and everything I am.

My best friend.  My lover.  My confidant. Songs are available to us when people are not - like 3 a.m. and you can't sleep or 9:00 p.m. when you are not really ready to end the day and even 8:00 a.m. when the world
is full of promise and hope.  -Lisa Kane

It just feels normal.  I grew up in a family of lovely voices, and everyone sang.  I couldn't even imagine anyone not being able to carry a tune, or not being able to sing at all.  I never imagined it until singing in church I noticed the woman next to me wasn't even coming close to hitting the right notes of this well known hymn.  She really seemed tone deaf.  I was so amazed that I shut up myself so that I could listen to her as she continued to hunt for and miss each note she sang.  But she sang!

Song writing is a different thing altogether.  It is both a gift and an effort.  The gift of a song, a really precious song, can't be arranged by me.  I can only recognize and take it when it comes, and do my best to keep it as pure and untouched by my ego as possible.  I have written songs, good songs, clever songs, with my own head, but the songs that I have been fortunate enough to receive, touch the hearts and souls of others.  They live and breathe.  They don't leave me feeling proud, they leave me feeling reborn. -Mark E. Adams-Westin (AMY & ADAMS)


Sometimes I wonder "what would it be like to have an ordinary career, a desk-job or something, that I really liked and was satisfied to do until retirement?"  It's something I can't even imagine.  I've realized over time that my musical talents, and the desire in me to make music, is indeed a God-given gift and therefore, I have an obligation to use that gift.  It was given for a reason.  That is what I must remember all the time, because unfortunately, what comes with the talent and desire is constant self-doubt.  Am I any good? Am I kidding myself? Did I just sing off key?  Is this a dumb song? Did I unconsciously rip-it-off from somebody else?  Will I ever make any money?  It's like swimming upstream all the time.  It can be really discouraging to have to keep defending your dreams to the ordinary workaday folks who don't understand.  That's why the realization that this is a special gift is so important.  What makes it all worthwhile are the comments and compliments from the people I've touched through music.  When I sound good and know it, it feels great, and I am grateful for it. - Amy Adams-Westin (AMY & ADAMS)

The 'gift' for me is a security blanket within myself that I know is there when I want to 'play' with it.  Sometimes I'm overdubbing in a studio setting and it feels like I'm "cloning" my gift.  Sometimes, the gift is tarnished!  : )  But I do view my gift and love for music as something that I inherited very early on, and it'll be with me as long as I'm alive.   I always tell people that if they appreciate music, then they've got the gift too.  It manifests in different ways. -Michael Loonan

i'm not sure it's a gift. it's just something you work at to try and improve. if there's a "gift" involved, it's the gift of perseverance. i'll speak mostly to songwriting, because i certainly don't consider myself a singer. speaking solely on the local acoustic circuit, very few of us are "inspired" songwriters who can just sit down and come up with a great tune. few things come out perfect the first time. we've all had tunes that just seem to flow out "perfect" from some dark corner of our psyche, but 99 percent of the time the songs need editing and re-writing. lots of it. we don't fool audiences with badly written tunes. they can spot them a mile away.
 
but like i said, that's my bias: writing. i certainly don't have a gift in the voice department. on a scale of 1-10, i'd say my voice is a minus 3. and that's on a good day. sometimes i hit the notes and sometimes i don't. but i once read an interview with leo kottke (that noted vocalist....) in which he said that audiences will forgive a bad note, but they won't forgive an insincere one. and when i look at some of the songwriters i admire -- gram parsons and townes van zandt come quickly to mind -- they don't necessarily have good voices. and i once read a story on johnny cash in which the writer remarked that cash even spoke off-key. but all these people (and plenty of others) have something unique to offer, and they sing from the heart and their songs are sincere. so that's what i try to do. and that's why i write mostly from personal experience. there are lots of personas i can't put myself in or identify with, and to try to sing a tune from a perspective that i don't really understand or identify with would be insincere. that's come up lately with having to decide on a "label" for my music. even though i've started playing bottleneck slide on a resophonic guitar in some of my shows, i'm certainly not a blues musician because that experience is not my reality. i'm a slow middle-class white guy who had a pretty decent upbringing in the midwest, and i'm not enough of an entertainer to convincingly sing a song about how "the man" been puttin' me down fo' so long. i've had my share of disappointments and broken hearts, and i can sing about those, and i can project my feelings onto other characters in a song, but it's kind of like steve earle once said, "all my songs are about me."
 
back to the writing "gift," though. all our songs need work, and some of us slave over them more than others. there's a gift in persevering to keep tweaking lines until we like them. there's a new tune i'm doing, "last call," that has a first line that i'm still working on. i originally wrote "a wind as wicked as a shot of bad bourbon/whistles 'cross this minnesota plain" but i started thinking that while i had some alliteration going -- the Ws of wind and wicked and the Bs of bad bourbon, would the line be better if it were "a wind as stiff as a shot of good bourbon...." and i'm undecided. winds can be stiff. so can shots of bourbon. but as songwriters, we're telling a story, and very few of us are natural storytellers. it's the same in journalism. i know some people who are pretty good reporters -- finders of fact -- but when it comes to writing the piece, telling the story, they get lost. similarly, i've known journalists who were very good writers, but lousy finders of fact. they were all style and little substance. a songwriter needs to be able to do both of those things well. he or she needs to ascertain the facts, the gist, the heart of what they're writing about, and then communicate that in a way listeners A) understand and B) can relate to. it helps if it has a hummable melody. good editing is key, too. tim o'brien once said when he's done writing a song, he cuts it by one-quarter. that's a pretty good rule. i have nothing against long songs -- i've written a couple of sagas myself -- but sometimes a nice, short, concise tune packs more of a wallop than a long, drawn-out one. just because we can write two or three extra verses doesn't mean we should show off. there are some performers out there whose stuff i can't make hide nor hair of. i have no idea what they're singing about. and it's not just me being dense. they just aren't doing a good job of telling me the story, of communicating.
 
and don't for a minute think i'm above all these sins; i'm not. i've written some tunes that were real dogs. i'd like to think that you never hear them because i recognize that they're dogs and never play them in front of people. but i'm sure one of my dogs gets through the fence every now and then and menaces the folk neighborhood. and there are tunes i've written that i really like, that mean a lot to me personally, and they just don't resonate with anyone else. it's a tough call as to whether to do those tunes out. they're the ones we feel the most emotion on, so we think we do them well. conversely, there are tunes we just throw out there that people seem to like. there's a song i wrote called "i promise i won't get drunk and call" which was basically a crappy tune written because i liked the concept of promising someone (a female) that i wouldn't get drunk and call. (not that i've ever actually done that.) i'm not crazy about the tune, but people seem to like it. go figure.
 
from the standpoint of it being a gift though, it's music, not rocket science. anybody can learn to play a guitar and get out there and play. it's just having the will and the resolve -- the perseverance -- to go out and do it. i will say this: it is a "gift" to be able to continually beg and plead with bookers to play in their clubs, and it's a gift to keep on playing in front of coffeehouse crowds who are largely indifferent to your music. and it is a gift to know how to market yourself well. and i think we all know people who are better self-marketers than performers, and people who are great performers but don't give a hoot about marketing themselves. all we can do is try to work on our craft and realize it's like being a recovering alcoholic or something like that: it's a never-ending struggle, and we have to take it a day at a time. god doesn't give us individual gifts; it's selfish to think that he (or she) cares about us as individuals. we're all sinners here. some days the words come and some days they don't, and it is those days when they come that are the true gifts. --David Hanners

Anything we're able to accomplish is a gift from God.  But, like athletics, good art comes with hard work, study, and practice.  It's hard for me to imagine that it is very easy for anyone who really does it well without a lot of hard work.  The gift might not amount to much without development.  On the other hand, I really enjoy playing music, so a sizeable percentage of the development is fun.  It's probably a little like a kid who really likes to play basketball or baseball and just improves by playing a lot.--Tim Davey

What's it like to have a musical gift? For me, my relationship with music is all tied up with creativity, with striving for something new. Perhaps it is best summed up by saying that what it is that I've got is the ability and compulsion to hear possibility. I hear and create new music in my mind almost constantly, it seems. My experience with others' music, especially music that truly moves me, is often expressed by spontaneously creating my own part in my head.

Ultimately, the music I enjoy most, the music that feels the most free, is that which happens in my own imagination.

Writing, performing, and recording are attempts to translate some of that to the external world. These processes always fall far short of capturing everything I hear, every possibility I imagine. I think what finally sets apart truly masterful musicians is that they are able to significantly close this gap, and get closer to a pure transfer of idea into the physical world of sound vibrations. But I doubt anyone really gets to the ultimate level. It is this very inadequacy that compels the musician to constant pursuit, the continued failure serving as both burden and motivation.

The other aspect I'd like to address is the idea of all of this as a gift. I definitely consider my music in that way, part of my unique personality given to my by God. There are two important ramifications of this, both of them tied up with humility, really the only position the receiver of a gift can assume.

First of all, it means that I have some responsibility to use my gift wisely and responsibly. Music can be a wonderful, powerful thing, that that it should not be taken lightly. For me this means my goals should always be the conveyance of truth, beauty and goodness. This doesn't mean that I cannot shine the light on the darker, more troubling realities we face--far from it. To avoid this would be to avoid the obligation to truth. But it does mean that I need to avoid using music for manipulation, or for promoting a false reality, whether that lie would be glossy and utopian or vicious and hateful. I don't want to deny that things are broken, but neither shall I deny hope. 

Secondly, in keeping with the reality that a gift is not earned, one must always remember that a musical gift doesn't make a person any more special than anyone else. Some might look on a musician and see them almost as a magician, but really it's no different from the person who can always find a way to make an engine run, who can connect deeply with children, who can combine and manipulate ingredients into a fine dish, who can help you find exactly what you need (not necessarily what you thought you needed) as the hardware store, or who does nothing better than just sit and listen--truly listen--to what another person has to say. We all have our part to play.

For musicians, it shouldn't be about trying to find that rarefied air where one is set apart and idolized. One of the best things about music, especially in live performance, is the way it provides connection. There, unfolding and developing in real time, different people experience the music as it happens, each finding his or her own way in, being touched in different ways, and yet being touched together  in an experience entirely unique to that time and place.

As a musician, I'm but a facilitator of that experience, a servant of that particular manifestation of community and of the Creator who made us to desire community in the first place.-Tim Helmen

When people first learn I play acoustic guitar and I'm a singer and songwriter they compare me to Phoebe Buffay on "Friends." People always expect me to lead "The Birthday Song."

It's hard to say when I realized I had a talent, but I always knew I wanted to share music with people. Ever since I was a child, I enjoyed singing. The encouragement and support I received from family and friends gave me the drive to continue performing. Throughout high school I sang in choirs and small ensembles performing classical music. In college I was cast in musical theatre productions in the character roles.

Now my musical focus is bringing life experiences and honest emotions to songs. Singing lyrics that I have written and performing solo, and with my band, is very satisfying and I truly enjoy sharing my songs with audiences of all ages.It's what I'm best at; it's what I enjoy the most.--Katy Tessman

What's it like to have musical talent?  The answer to that, for me, comes in multiple layers.  First, it's fun! From the time I was 4, I realized I loved music. My mom still has an old Philco combo record player (78/45/33 speeds) that has a big dent in the speaker (one speaker) cloth where I would rest my forehead for hours while I absorbed all the music coming out of the box. That's where the fun started. I was listening to Our Hit Parade on the radio
BEFORE it became a black & white TV show!

It's also fun to sing along to the radio, make up your own harmonies that aren't on the record, and, when possible, play guitar with the song. I used to dance so much that people put me in contests & I won trophies! But all the time, I would have changed places with the guys making music ina New York minute!

Most of all, it's fun to see an audience having fun with the music you are making. When I was 15, I felt like the line in the Don McLean song: "I knew if I had my chance, I could make those people dance and maybe they'd be happy for awhile" So I MADE my chance and put a band together. Wewere like 6 brothers who did everything together and we had a ball! Had more fun w/more musicians over a total of ten years in bands. FUN!

On another layer, it is nerve wracking. Having to remember the lyrics, chords and melody, and just KNOWing that you're going to screw up on at least one sometime during each song. But practice makes perfect, eh?

Still another layer is the knowledge that no matter how hard you work, there will ALWAYS be somebody out there who can make you feel like  you don't know the first THING about music. So then you enjoy THAT person's performance.

There's also the layer that identifies  the responsibility that comes with accepting a gig. Make
sure you eat well before you leave; leave with plenty of time to get to the venue & set up; do the gig as professionally as possible and say/do all the things that make the venue owner/booker feel like they got their money's worth; don't stay up so late winding down after the gig that you oversleep and don't make your day gig the next day...etc.

Another layer is satisfaction at seeing an audience smile or laugh or cry while you're doing one of the songs YOU created.

Still another is frustration and envy that comes when there are others who have more time to promote or tour or whatever to advance their careers, while you hang in & do the stay-at-home, boring stuff like always.

It's knowing that you'd trade darn near anything to be able to continue using that talent. Take my foot? Hell, take the whole leg! Just don't mess with my hands or voice or brain.

It's also a deep-seated feeling that you wouldn't be who you are without music. If it were taken away, it would be like removing a vital body part, like your soul.-Wayne Hamilton

It's funny, but because I grew up in a family where music was a large part of our lives, and everyone in my family had a nice voice, I just took it for granted that was the way it was for everyone. As a young girl my sister and I performed together, and I could see that we were a hit. I would sing for my parents friends, and get wonderful accolades, so that was the beginning of my love of performance. How could a child resist the attention and obvious appreciation. As far as my own experience of my "gift", it is the one thing in my life that I have consistently relied on
to get me through a day, a difficulty, a place to express my love, my anger, my grief, my experience of living any particular moment in time. It is the part of me that I never question directly links me to God. When I choose to pay attention to it, and open myself ,sometimes through prayer, it is my expression of the God inside of me. It has been the creation of wonderful relationships, and connecting on some level beyond the ordinary. It is sharing a quiet heart connection with a stranger,and knowing it will be a better day because of it. It's soaring spirit, and dark side. It's the most joyfilled I can be, apart from the rest of the world, and any other role I play. It is the " I " in Deb Harley, Deb Sheppard, daughter, mom, wife, friend. - Deb Harley

It is a wonderful and unique feeling to have musical talent; it is satisfying knowing that I can achieve a state of artistic expression that can communicate feelings and moods, straight from the heart and soul, that words can not express. At the same time, it is a burden for two reasons:
the feeling that I have a responsibility to transform very personal emotions into music, in order to continue the chain of evolution and history in music; and the fact that it's just not feasible, and may never be for me, to be able to pursue this musical talent on a full-time basis; there will always be a job outside of music necessary to make a living, all the while knowing that I'd rather be pursuing musical expression every day.--Brian Keenan

I believe everyone is talented at something. Just some find out what it is and pursue it.   Something like music and art is obvious, but being a talented listener or closet organizer don't get any recognition or awards. I think that's why people overlook it. So, I think everyone should know what it's like to be talented.
 
I first realized that I was absorbing information well about what was being taught to me on the piano when my Mom would brag about me to her friends at about age 10 or 11. I think it has something to do with how we fit into and compare in the social structure (mostly peers). If we feel that we are better than most people, we feel  we are good, and start to claim that {instrument, musician, etc}   as part of our identity. When you first realize that you are "getting it" faster than your friends, that's when you feel like you're talented.--Rebekka Fisher

What's it like to be creative? John Lennon's response to this question was something like this: "I don't see why the average bloke couldn't do what I do." This is an idea that I find very inspirational. I never expected to be a big John Lennon fan, but in spite of myself, I think about him almost every day. And with these words, he's here in the room with me, saying, "Go ahead, Brian, and say it! Be brave enough to say what you really want to say!"

All I can do is pass along the same spirit to others. An average person can do this. Work out regularly and build your songwriting muscles. Johnny Mercer had to do it. Oscar Hammerstein had to do it. I am sure John Lennon had to do it. Every day I try to spend "hum and strum" time with my guitar. This helps melody ideas to float through my mind. Sometimes it's when I'm in the bathtub. But I purposely try to be receptive.

As I read books or watch television, I try to have a pocket notebook nearby to write down ideas. The sound of the words together is just as important as their meaning. The ideas I'm looking for are song titles and opening lines. I have spent two months with an opening line I knew wasn't as good as it should be. If possible, the opening line should always complement the title. The opening line can be the title. Who knows?

Read this book: If You Want To Write, by Brenda Ueland. She has things to say about the average bloke, too.

Anyway, get busy and write another song! - Brian Peterson
I think I have some insight into the subject because...I didn't always have this voice...I was a sophomore in college before I picked up a guitar---30 years old before I ever had a paying gig--40 years old before I ever had national airplay.  Somewhere in my mid-thirties I began to slowly understand a few things about "voice"...that its idiosyncratic...just like getting clothes to really fit--they have to be tailored to YOUR body...& while I can't afford fashion- I HAVE spent the time to really find out what my voice does & doesn't do. 
 
"What its like" is to know you're pretty good at something but to know that talent is the common denominator...no reason for the big head--when I'm performing I never assume that I'm the best singer, guitar player, or writer in the room. Boiled down, here's what I think about great voices:  there are huge numbers of people walking around with fine voices locked inside them...and they haven't discovered them because they haven't known to look for them.  All god's birds gotta sing, oughta sing, get better if they sing.
.
What its like" for me may be different than for people who always had great vocal talent.  I don't actually experience my vocal voice as part of my identity.  I was middle aged before it arrived...when I was in junior high, high school, college, no one would have paid to listen to me.  Sooo "what its like" is a pleasant surprise that keeps arriving...I'm grateful...I have alot of fun with it.   Its like playing with a sears roebuck mail order guitar (my first guitar) and then getting to play a martin...having the martin won't make you a better player-but it makes it a lot more fun  & fun leads to more time spent doing it..which leads to greater skill ---which leads to being able to play/sing difficult songs that someone else wrote ("gee, you sound just like dan fogelberg") which leads to finally discovering your own unique style/"voice"...IF you know enough to look for it.
 
I have friends who have discovered their own guitar style...but not their own vocal voice.  And they believe that they are not good/great singers.  I don't agree...because I don't think they've spent the time...locked inside them MAY be an awesome authentic instrument.  example: fabulous guitar players are notorious for finding a great riff that is easier to play in a key that is difficult for them to sing in...change the key...explore...know your voice....exactly what note does your current vocal range begin on?  where does it end...at what note do you switch to falsetto...play with it-know it-honor it.  technique may be part of it but the most important part is saying "god, gave me this voice(life, spouse, friend, circumstance) and it is PERFECT...what is it perfect for?"
 
...which means that "what its like" is like everyone else's experience...despite the places that we're gifted in...the gifts won't carry us...its not about the gifts...its about the growth...you can grow into the tree your want to be.  the tree you want to be is who you are...the acorn is an oak(old saying " you can count the acorns on a tree but not the forests held within an acorn") --Scott Marrs
 




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