After the Iron Maiden fiasco of last Tuesday (okay, not really a fiasco, but I got really skeeved out by the crushing number of men at the stadium – I get nervous around large crowds of either gender in absence of counterbalance) Brian and I switched musical tacks on Thursday and went to check out Billy Bragg at St. Andrews-Wesley downtown. I’m not sure why that venue since he normally plays at the Commodore when he’s in town, but I’m guessing it had something to do with his tour schedule and availability of a music hall to play in.
I’ve seen Billy Bragg four times over the years (the first time more than a decade ago at the UVIC SUB), always in a slightly different formation – with his own band, fronting Wilco during the Mermaid Avenue tour, and solo. Thursday’s show was a solo affair, and because seating at the cathedral was general we lined up early to get seats close to the front – which I was so happy about. We had close to the best seats in the place, six pews back from the stage and right on the aisle. And our location coupled with Bragg’s banter definitely made it feel like a very intimate show to me (despite the fact well over 1000 people were crammed in to the church). It really was the best, and most political show I’ve seen him do – and while I felt that he went on a little too much about the inspiration of Obama, I was equally heartened to hear him fess up to his mistake in supporting Tony Blair. God knows why after the Labour Party experience in England Bragg is still a social democrat, but there it is. Hope springs eternal and all that.
At one point during the show he talked about going to his first political demonstration in 1978 which was a Rock Against Racism concert where The Clash was featured and how the band was the motivating factor behind his decision to attend. Which in fact made The Clash responsible for a great deal of his life trajectory, because of this one concert and how being a part of that crowd bouyed the nascent political consciousness of Bragg at the age of 19. He felt for the first time that he was not alone in wanting to see the world change in dramatic ways and believed his would be the generation to do it.
What touches me about this story is my own similar experience at the age of fourteen. Except in my case it was the music of Billy Bragg handed off to me by a friend on a copied cassette. Talking to the Taxman About Poetry was the album, and I received it coincident with the first demonstration I attended which was one of the annual Peace Marches (which in the 80s were really anti-nuke rallying points). And like he said on Thursday night, it’s not that the band itself is what makes you an activist. It’s not that you hear a piece of music and change your mind about things. But to hear your own thoughts and desires coming at you off the bootlegged tape, or on the local university station late at night – you recognize you aren’t alone no matter how alienating your existence might seem. And that might help you hold on to your ideas just a little bit harder than you would otherwise.
I suppose now it must be different for burgeoning activist kids with the Internet and all. You can find other people like you from all over and connect with them in a way that was impossible when I was a youth. It really was things like the campus radio stations, the traded import albums, and the occasional demonstration that gave you a small glimmer of the world outside the one you lived in. And while I won’t pin my life trajectory on any particular individual or band, the fact that people were making alternative culture around me was certainly a factor in my believing you could change the world and then acting on that belief.
It was hard not to think about this stuff at last week’s show between Bragg talking about his experience with The Clash and playing a number of his classics. New England, Power in a Union, Great Leap Forward, were mixed in with stuff from his new album, some Guthrie numbers and a song which was his own version of a Clash number (and yes, he channeled Joe Strummer right there, I’m sure of it). Almost two hours of banter, music and tea-drinking.
Near the end of the night I saw the activist kids that I used to be. At the encore they came up, the middle teens so excited to see Bragg for the first time and dancing right in front for the final few numbers. Dyed hair and hip clothes, this music still reaching out to the alienated ones who want to change the world. It continues, thankfully, cause I can’t imagine where we would be if it didn’t.
And while I am cynical about the hope that springs eternal in the social democrats, I will confess my own social change version of the same. Even after 21 years of activism I am still convinced that positive social change will come, somehow, in the future. (Though I also believe we may go through a lot of social/ecological hell to get there). It seems as naive to me as Bragg’s faith in Obama, and yet there it is. At the very least having some great music to listen to along the way is essential.
(above photo stolen from Lindsay who was at the show and took pictures and youtube video even.)
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I think Brian is going to write about the Iron Maiden show we went to last night so I won’t bother except to say that 1) it triggered my crowd phobia, 2) it was uber-male, even beyond what I thought it would be, and 3) I am really glad I wore earplugs. Not the worst experience of my life by far, yet I doubt I will be attending another heavy-metal stadium show anytime soon. I just can’t deal with that many people in one place, the heat, the smoke, and the machismo – no matter how good the stage show is going to be..
I am finding that I have little to say this week – personal updates more than political ones being the norm. But that’s okay I suppose. Mostly I’m starting to feel the weight of my new union position as the obligations to be here and be there are piling up. Events that I would have begged out of a year ago are now a part of what is expected of me and I am quickly losing the time that I need for friends and relaxing. Which is one of the reasons that I’ve started scheduling exercise in, cause if I don’t it just doesn’t happen in between everything else.
I’m feeling a little squeezed though at the moment, and hoping that no one is offended by my absence from pretty much everything lately. I do want to hang out. I really do. It’s just difficult to do everything at the same time.
I feel better today, despite the fact it is raining and I took the bus instead of walking to work. Feeling more caught up with myself I suppose or just more settled into being here in BC for the next couple of months.
Although I am generally happy these days, for the last several weeks I have been moaning about two things: 1) being out of shape, and 2) writing. I’m sure that these things seem unrelated, but really they are not, both holding in common the need for self-discipline that for me comes and goes. I can be good, really really good, for periods of time. Going the gym, and/or writing every day – routinizing it enough that it becomes automatic (and pleasurable) in the security that “practice makes perfect”. But then as I am just hitting the right stride, something generally trips me up, usually in the form of personal tragedy or an uber-complex travel and work schedule – and a couple weeks “off” turns into months of feeling crappy about the fact that I let it go again! And the problem isn’t so much that I drop the routine, but that each time I return to it I am a little bit less convinced of my ability to stick to anything.
In any case, I am way out of shape after months of airplanes and meetings and that irritates me to no end. Fat ass or slovenly writing, the solution is pretty much the same, and whinging about it doesn’t really help much (besides being hell on whatever relationship I’m in).
Fortunately it’s summer and for the getting-in-shape part I’m feeling confident with coming nicer weather for walking lots and my YWCA membership which I never let lapse (I figure if I don’t go the gym with it, at least I am contributing the women’s programs in the city with my monthly fee).
But the writing? Well the writing part is always harder because it’s not something I can just do on my own – or at least that’s what I’ve discovered in four years of blogging. The writing, yes, of course I do that by myself. But without an audience it’s just no fun and any project without immediate readers quickly comes to a grinding halt as I find myself plagued with writerly self-doubt compounded all the cliched angst I can muster. Where getting in shape requires me to be left alone (I don’t want no “work-out buddy”), writing is something I like to have a cheerleader or two for. Very narcisstic. But also just a reality. Writing for me is akin to performance, it involves being subject to the “gaze”.
So given this is it possible for me to turn a longer, more-focused work? That’s the question I am facing now as I start to delve into the potential-greenscare-memoir project – last night being a first “discussion” with my friend Mel who is a book editor. She suggested that I send her my rough material (blog posts, journal entries, letters) a little over a month ago and then asked me to think about who my audience might be. Now, for someone who can’t stand the idea of *not* having an audience, I am also *loathe* to define it. Mostly it’s easier for me to define who it isn’t. It is *not* the “movement” for example.
To make a long-ish discussion short, Mel has agreed to play the role of developmental editor to my flailing writing style – which gives me both an audience and a cheerleader in one. And we’ve figured out how we might structure the writing itself to play to my natural strengths. It was a really interesting discussion for me in a number of ways and I find myself believing for the first time that I might really be able to do something here. So yes, besides getting my ass in gear, I plan to spend this summer working my fingers out on the keyboard as well. Not that I don’t have to work and do other things. But really, I pumped out 15,000 words last month just in this space – I’m sure with a little dedication I could throw some of those words towards a weightier project.
Point to all of this being, it’s time, and I know it. Books aren’t going to produce themselves and I think if I can get one story out to completion, then the next one will get easier (and I’ve got a novel in the back of my head that keeps coming back to me). I’m also pretty certain that Viaduct will give me some more focused writing practice of some variety. So I suppose I have to approach this business just like the YWCA – one twenty minute increment at a time until I’m gaining both strength and manuscript pages. Sounds like a summer project to me.
I am really all bent out of shape this morning and I’m having a hard time understanding exactly why. Or, I suppose I have some idea about why but I’m surprised at the force of the emotions in me. I feel a bit PMS-irrational, except I’m not (PMS-ing that is, I may still be a little irrational). I’m feeling like life is just a little bit impossible at the moment.
Why? Because Brian and I are re-working schedules for the summer and his new child-care arrangements are going to be week-on/week-off which I had lobbied for so we could actually have the occasional weekend together. Problem is, it means that during his week-on we can’t spend any nights together because my presence in his home makes his ex (who lives upstairs) uncomfortable. And for some reason that prospect is making me unbearably sad despite the fact that Brian and I have lots of lovely things planned for the summer and his weeks-off will be mostly spent at my place.
I’m not sure if I am reacting mainly to the feeling of being an outsider in his life a great deal of the time because of his living situation, or to the trepidation I have about our new schedule for the next few months. But reacting I am.
I suppose it’s just growing pains – we’ve been through these a couple of times already as the relationship has moved from one phase to the next – and that the reality of a situation like ours is going to make that more difficult than it would otherwise be. Between his ex and my ex and his kid and my busy work schedule it gets tricky, you know?
But damn I don’t want to give up on this. So I suppose getting through the hard feelings and accepting the reality of this situation is the only option right now. Gah. Being emotionally mature about things is so difficult!