Back when I was short (before the legs grew in), I wanted more then anything to be able to make music. I knew a guy who could play anything you could name on a guitar and he was pretty good on drums too. I begged my mother for a guitar and lessons. Instead, she figured that piano lessons would be just as good and signed me up to work with the church choir leader every Thursday. It's very hard to play piano in a rock band, but I was informed that all the great musicians started with piano, so I was resigned.
Sadly for my budding rock career, the choir leader hated children and caused enough problems that I never went back after the first four lessons. No piano for me. In later years I picked up the basics of guitar, handbells, recorder, saxophone, and middle eastern drum. None of them stuck for very long.
I've even tried to join multiple choirs. I've had voice lessons and worked in musical theatre for a bit, although the sinus surgeries I've had since then make the voice very unstable. I tend to wander about in the song until I strike up a likely note but it generally ends soon. It's like mining for music in my throat. "Keep digging! We're bound to hit something!"
Because I wanted to *make* music so much, I never really got around to appreciating popular music. I missed out on most of the 80's because I lived in Germany and it was all several months old by the time it got to me anyway, but I never paid much attention to the radio. That changed as I got older, but I've still noticed large blank spots in my musical education. If you're passionate about a particular band, please don't tell me the name of the band, song, or singers. Just sing it or hum it to me. It's the only way I can recognize things.
When I was offered the chance to work for The CAPE radio I was slightly stunned. I mean, here was a crew of talent that successfully created a volunteer group that brought new music and strange people into my headphones every night of the week for years. I had a total fan girl crush on all of the DJs and tuned in every chance I got. I was positive when they heard my high-pitched nasally whine on the air and saw how little music I actually own I'd be given a polite reassignment to the paperwork department, but I had to try.
So far, it's been 7 months and they haven't caught on yet. No one from the station has ever said "Perhaps you could try to talk less on the air?" or commented that the music was too odd. Instead, I've been offered a chance to do voicework, develop blending skills, and actually been called a DJ in public by people I figure should know better. I'm learning new software and spending large sums of money on new music every week. I'm learning to keep an ear out for music give-aways and fresh new bands while budgeting for music downloads. I'm falling in love with music all over again and now I have a chance to share the things I love with other people.
Maybe I'm not making it myself. I certainly am not crafting these notes with my own hands. But I am being allowed to give a gift to all the people I love through basic podcasting pizazz and that's something precious to me.
Here, you can have the words to the song currently stuck in my head. I'll be playing it this weekend at the CAPE Radio Fantasy Faire. I'll be on the air from 7-9pm (CST I think) and the show will be rather bawdy. Enjoy!
For to see my Tom of Bedlam, 10,000 miles I'd travel
Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes, to save her shoes from gravel.
Still I sing bonnie boys, bonnie mad boys,
Bedlam boys are bonnie
For they all go bare and they live by the air,
And they want no drink nor money.
I went down to Satin's kitchen, for to beg me food one morning
There I got souls piping hot, all on the spit a turning.
There I picked up a cauldron, Where boiled 10,000 harlots
Though full of flame I drank the same, to the health of all such varlets.
My staff has murdered giants, my bag a long knife carries
For to cut mince pies from children's thighs, with which to feed the fairies.
Spirits white as lightning, shall on my travels guide me
The moon would quake and the stars would shake, when' ere they espied me.
No gypsy slut nor doxy, shall win my Mad Tom from me
I'll weep all night, the stars I'll fight, the fray will well become me.
It's when next I have murdered, the Man-In-The-Moon to powder
His staff I'll break, his dog I'll bake, they'll howl no demon louder.
So drink to Tom of Bedlam, he'll fill the seas in barrels
I'll drink it all, all brewed with gall, with Mad Maudlin I will travel.
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