I sat outside The Mission on a beautiful Wednesday evening with Tracy, who would be tending the bar that night. It was almost eight o'clock, and as I cracked sunflower seeds I somberly contemplated the fact that there were no other souls in sight for open mic night. I needed to experience some good live music, to feel the positive energy, but alas, I submitted to the fact that Jefferson City became a ghost town at night, and that the venue would probably reflect only the ambling of ghost people and their hidden music. However, much to my delight, a group of three strolled up to the entrance, one wielding a guitar. Success! Even one is better than none, I thought.
I went inside, signed up to open mic, and for the next fifteen minutes or so watched with a bit of amazement at all the people who came in - some with friends, some alone, some putting drinks in their hand, some tuning instruments, some looking frightened and others excited. One thing was certain - there was a charge in the room. It was the kind of energy that music always produces on an intangible level. The anticipation that something special, something moving, was about to transpire.
I played my Garth Brooks (a bad choice for that crowd in retrospect) and two other originals, then settled in for a night of fantastic music. I heard contemporary pop, old school rock, originals, jazz, a lot of different genres. What hit me the most, however, was the rawness of the atmosphere. The desire that coursed through every single talented figures body poured itself into the audience.
What hit me hard was the imperfection of it all.
What I mean to say isn't that there wasn't talent - there was plenty of it. I am not making some sort of judgment as to the worthiness of the material or the artists. I simply mean to say that such an atmosphere stood in stark contrast to the elitest mentality of modern day musical entertainers. We've become children of auto-tune, purveyors of the superficial make-up that covers the natural beauty of true art today.
There is a difference between entertainment and art, although the two often coincide. America has become obsessed with entertainment - they strive to be titillated by the next big thing. They want lavish performances with floats, explosions, imagery, costumes, beautiful women and hunky men. We've been trained by shows like American Idol to listen ardently to the vocalists, and to chastise them for their mistakes, even if we do so subconsciously. We seek music like a drug as something to grant us temporary satisfaction and yet that leaves us worse off than we were before.
I am not saying that entertainment is without value - certainly it is. I am not saying there is no place for mindless lyrics set to computerized beats and placed in perfect pitch by software. Care-free, drift away music is exactly what you want after a long day at work. But we've become obsessed with it. And I'm frankly sick to my stomach by it.
We need art.
Art, to me, above all else is a form of expression regardless of the vessel which it comes by. Art doesn't know tone, art doesn't keep track of trends, it has no notion of popularity. It manifests in paintings, in sculptures, in monuments and buildings, and in music, to name just a few. It is primitive, it is visceral, and it comes from somewhere deep inside a person.
Where are the Kurt Cobains? He has long been my favorite artist since the days of my youth. If you listen to Nirvana with modern ears, and had he not become a rock legend, you probably wouldn't give him the time of day. Had Kurt shown up on the stage of American Idol he probably would have been on one of the outtakes that people laugh about, saying things like, "How can that person not know they suck at singing? Didn't their mother tell them?" Yet Nirvana's music changed the musical landscape, and left a lasting imprint on the hearts of many. Kurt was an artist, who delved deep inside himself and poured out something primordial and ubiquitous.
Don't get me wrong, I do think Kurt had a powerful and technical vocal talent...sometimes. Most of the time, however, he sought his art with such reckless and wild abandon that those notions faded into the background. If you listen to some of their live recordings it is evident that he is off key and his voice wanted to give out 5 songs ago. Sometimes he completely lost his spot in the song on his guitar or started songs in one key and switched to another. It was the raw simplicity, the humanness, of the performance, and the strange sense of familiarity you felt with Nirvana's music that made it powerful.
And that's what, to me, makes spots like The Mission places of strong rejuvenating energy. Some people come in crippled by the notion that they might not live up to the expectations of a song - they might not be found acceptable by the "judges" in the audience. We've got to leave those notions behind. How many musicians are out there that don't share their wonderful, enlightening art with others because our society has become full of the musical elite? Those people who whisper "This guy sucks," and pay no heed to what the artist DOES bring to the table. The bravery of standing before criticism, the vulnerability of exposing sensitive subjects in rhyme and prose, the inspiration he could bring to those same people if they'd only realize that he sought an amiable goal and actually PURSUED it. In one song this person shows both the frailty and the strength of a human being. And it is wonderful.
I encourage you, stop watching American Idol and The Voice for a while (Not permanently, as they've certainly done a lot of good for music in general), and go see some local music. Be a part of a community. Feel its humanity. You'll be glad you did.
