In
a world gone mad – well, not all the world, but a few people with power
disproportionate to their ability to handle power – it is consoling to find
something that has remained the same.
What
I have in mind is the making of set lists.
Throughout
childhood I sang songs accompanied by my mother playing the piano. One song was
the limit at the PTA Music Festival, and the 4-H and County Fair Talent Contests.
When
I got to college, I began singing and playing with other musicians and doing
gigs for which I had to make set lists.
Making
a set list is both an art and a craft. You must have in mind your audience,
your tempo, key changes, moods, and tunings, if you play the guitar. All these
things go into making a set.
You
want to start with a song that grabs people’s attention, then you want to pace
the songs deliberately while traversing the middle of the set, and then you
want to end on a high note, always keeping in mind that you must read every
audience and be prepared to shift one direction or another if necessary, so
keep that master list nearby.
In
my twenties while performing solo I put together a collection of original
songs, love songs, story songs, country songs, folk songs, funny songs, and of
course my baby done left me/men are no damn good songs.
In
1974 I met Malvina Reynolds, a truly great songwriter and a truly great human
being. She was a socialist – a real one. I knew her long enough and well enough
that when people shriek “Socialist!” about somebody these days, I think, you
wouldn’t know a real socialist if one bit you in the butt.
Anyway.
I
added some of Malvina’s songs to my repertoire, and my sets perked right up.
So
this was great. I was traveling to gigs in Oregon, California, and British
Columbia as well as Washington, and I worked hard on my sets.
I
sang on the island frequently. In those years I often played at Sound Food on a
Saturday night.
I
suppose I must explain for some of you newbies (if any newbies read the Loop) that
Sound Food was a restaurant on the corner of the Main Highway and SW 206th
Street. It opened in 1974 with high hopes and a hippie ambiance. Some of the waitresses
wore halter dresses that didn’t even cover their aspirations to do something
besides waitressing, and older customers clutched their pearls when young moms
nursed their babies right there at the table. Ah, the good old days.
Sound
Food went through many iterations, and, sadly, closed permanently a few years
ago, but in the seventies, the joint was jumping.
The
restaurant was noisy, and cheerful, and usually there were toddlers who got up
to dance and run around.
The live music was background noise.
After
making careful set lists for the first year or two when I went to play at Sound
Food, one day I thought, nuts. I began singing the songs from my master list
alphabetically.
No
one ever noticed.
I
kept singing and making set lists for most of my adult life, as a solo act and
in groups, in between being a mom and having dead end jobs to support my music
and child-feeding and clothing habits.
The
kids grew up and left, and a few years later my husband Rick became ill. I
spent five years being his caregiver before he died. No music in those years.
Now
I sing with Listen in the Kitchen, five women (including me) who are brilliant and
talented musicians, not to mention women with the wild sense of humor you want
in the friends who accompany you in this life. We sing marvelous harmonies. We
play toe tappin’ tunes. We have fun.
We
work hard on our set lists.
Sometimes
these days I sing solo. More set lists.
You
know, when I lost Rick, it felt like my world had burned to the ground and I
had lost everything. There were times I thought I was going to die or wondered
why I didn’t, with life so empty. Times when I wondered why I was still here.
Unfortunately
for that attitude, after a few years I decided that I might not know why I was still
here, but I might as well do the two things which I seem to do well, singing
and writing, and see how that goes.
So
far, so good.
I’ll
be singing at the Farmer’s Market on Saturday, May 18, from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m.
That’s a busy place, with lots of people walking around. Noisy, crowded.
Maybe
I’ll sing my songs alphabetically.
Just
kidding. I will make set lists.
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