The Performer 1992

11 Nov 2008 Leave a comment

by arlenecorwin in 1992, pure nakedness, vaguely about music Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

                   The PerformerShe makes her face up, picks her frock,

Goes to the club and hopes she doesn’t play a crock

Of shitty, shoddy work that night.

Gets there on time; the sound is set.

She starts to play; she’s planned her set.

The baby pink is not quite right –

You know, the baby pink spotlight.

Her phrasing’s delicate but bright.

Though she’s a pro, raring to go

There’s always just a bit of nerves:

The need to please. She feels she serves.

That’s good. The voice is good, quite good.

That song came out as best it could.

The people clap. Some even shout

And whistle. “How about

Another tune?’ She sings another.

Finally the evening’s over.

Just like that: a moment’s bubble.

Was it really worth the trouble?

People who’ve just seen the act,

The ones who sat, admired, practically

Dying for a skill they lack,

Who long for what seem so attractive,

Think that after she’s performed

She goes to any place but home,

But that’s exactly where she’s headed:

Home, a bite to eat and bed.

No frilly glamour in this art,

Just daily practicing and heart,

Mind, soul, evolving luck;

A mucking in, not mucking up.

The underlying need to grow

Sleeps underneath the this-night’s show.

A groping upward, outward and

A digging inward guides her hands

And every member of the band’s.

©The Performer 92.12.6

Vaguely About Music;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

Showing & Sharing 1992

07 Nov 2008 Leave a comment

by arlenecorwin in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , ,

 

    Showing And Sharing

Kent and I, we talked it through.

“Why do we do what we do?”

We asked ourselves, (musicians both)

Why not stay at home in sloth?

Why not warble in a corner,

Trade Jack Warner for Jack Horner?

Seed of non-paralysis,

Pith of our analysis

Lay in the need to share each bar,

Ensnare them in the repertoire.

Play inspired, fired solos

For the ones who know.

That’s where ‘share’ becomes the ‘show’.

Sharing what you’re made of for the love!

The gig might just be one night long,

The player sucking on the song,

Like actors drawn to paint their cheeks,

And climbers to outrageous peaks.

To show and share’s the way to care;

Discovery of who you are;

A wearing off of vanity;

A learning of humility:

The royal way to get somewhere,

(Know that you’re there).

Why perform, risk disapproval time on time,

When bumpy lyrics, stumping chords,

Mental blocks that make you jump

Shock a heart that gasps to pump?

Why, when there’s the cash, the boss,

The telltale suffering and loss?

Why, when you must gather strength

To stand against the length

Of lustful arms and eyes,

Seductive men and women; lies?

In an obscurely mirrored way

You need to hear the stuff you play

Through someone else’s ear.

It’s their response that makes you hear,

You wise, the music rise.

Fame means they know a name, that’s all.

The thing one can’t give up’s the call:

Going, wooing, daring, baring,

Keeping fresh the non-despair,

The repertoire in good repair

Till wheelchair itself has rusted:

That’s the showing and the sharing

(In a nutshell.)

©

 

Showing And Sharing 92.11.4Vaguely About Music; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

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