I had a rather transcendent moment today. I was watching the almost-gimmicky "Front to Back" reunion of Ben Folds Five. (Front to Back is a new mypspace-sponsored thing where a broken-up band gets back together for one night to perform the songs from one of their CDs--you guessed it--front to back). BF5 performed probably their most critically-acclaimed album, Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner for the show, which was recorded just over a month ago in Chapel Hill where the band started, and the video is now on myspace. Folds joked, "If I had known about this gig ten years ago, I would've sequenced [the songs on] the record a little differently."
Anyway, I was watching this performance of this downright amazing album and there was something so melancholy. Not terrible, just melancholy. I think I usually find it a bit depressing to watch a group who did (past tense) something immensely successful try to do (present tense) it again. Sometimes it just feels like a sad attempt to relive it or something. Not that I think in this case that it was at all a narcissistic endeavor on their parts--proceeds went to charity after all. But when they were performing "Don't Change Your Plans" at one moment I realized that Ben's voice was still conveying enough honesty to suggest this song still held something for him. That ten years later, this could still be quite a song to perform. And even with all the gimmicky, publicity stunt-ness of it; even with a trumpet soloist apparently from the college they were performing at and a cheering girlfriend in the audience; even with a crowd probably full of people who didn't even know who Ben Folds was when the original album came out... a song stood out as transcendent art. Every once and a while I seem to need to be reminded of the power of a song.
Let us write music that will still be something in ten years. And let that always, always, be our prayer.
Does anybody read this blog?
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5 comments:
I read. good post.
I read...but in marathon bouts when I try to catch up with a week's worth of my Google Reader stash.
Lovely Post. I often feel similarly about artwork...it's kind of sad that when an artist gets famous for a particular style or subject matter they are pressured to continue with that "selling" artwork style for the rest of their lives. And yet the reason it is popular and selling is that something amazing was usually there from the beginning.
"Does anybody read this blog?" Are you kidding me?! You put our town on the map and made our kids famous!
But should it matter? What if noone ever reads your blog again (heaven forbid)? Would it make your thoughts and feelings invalid? Would you really be wasting your time writing them down here? Would you be any less than the kind-hearted most-talented and blessed group of guys that you are? Absolutely not!
Keep on keepin' on, guys! You gotta KNOW that the love bounces right back atcha from all directions...especially from above.
And we'll try to remind you of that more often! ;-)
Certain songs can move me to tears, not just of sadness, but of joy. And occasionally the emotion doesn't even relate to the words, just the beauty of the notes blending, the tone/quality of the vocals, the power of it all to inspire a heart to move. Several of CS's songs, or others' songs that you perform, do that to me. That is true artistry - tapping into and triggering those deep responses.
I looked up the video of that performance, and I agree, it is a strangely touching performance.
"I love you, goodbye"
Ending a song like that with that line has to make it touching, and in the setting they're playing it in, it makes it that much more powerful.
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