I went to see my friend Kate McGarry last night at the Jazz Standard. She is a sublime, pure, deep singer. She was doing a whole night of just piano and voice with Fred Hersch, the sublime, pure and deep pianist.
Two songs in, i just couldn't stop crying. The piano changes were so beautiful, twisting and turning, her voice has a stillness and delicacy, and yet a power. I was absolutely pulled in and transported. There was nothing fussy or contrived. She has this presence, a certainty. They both do.
Music. I do often joke about how I know a new song is a keeper if I find myself in tears. I just finished a new one called "too much happiness" and I swear it is happy, but I can't get through it without crying.
When I was little, my mother would often weep just for the beauty of the last songs of Strauss. When I was ten, I heard Mick Jagger singing "Angie" for the first time. I was a puddle and couldn't quite figure out what had happened to me. But I knew I wanted more.
I find, even on testy hard days with my mother, music is what will raise the mood. She will often make up her own songs on the spot. Yesterday's was about cheerios and noses. I am amazed at her wordplay and good humor even now.
The current is strong. The coming energy of spring's big melt. I'm jumping right in.