Heather S. Ingemar's Blog, page 39

A Father's Tribute (via Luna Guitars' Blog)

This week is National Suicide Prevention Week.

Much as I hate admitting it, I've been there. Been so close I could look over the edge. Thankfully, I had someone close enough to take my hand and help me step back. Unfortunately, not everyone struggling with depression is so lucky.

The saddest part about it is that helping isn't hard. You just have to take off your blinders. You can't go around stuck in a fantasy that life is perfect and everyone is fine — because the world is far from perfect, and many more people than you think are struggling. Yeah, it hurts to see and feel; it's much more comfortable to hide behind a callous, ignorant exterior. But the thing is, until we stand up and truly connect with the people in our every day lives, this is going to keep happening.

Everyone deserves a little kindness. Everyone deserves to be acknowledged, to know they aren't alone in this vast world. Sometimes it's as simple as saying 'hello', or giving someone a compliment. Sometimes you don't even have to say a word — just a smile to let them know you've seen them.

Sometimes that's all it takes.

I would like to challenge you all to engage one person each day this week with something positive: a smile, a happy greeting, a little bit of conversation. Ask someone how they are doing — and mean it. Take an interest. You might surprise yourself by making a new friend.

You might save a life.

Transitions

We all go through them. Sometimes life changes in the space of a blink, and sometimes it takes years. Some changes you can predict and others, you can't. A lot of it is chance, some of it is personal growth, and a little of it is fate.

I have been a musician for over 20 years, but (as you've likely heard me say before) I was not always a writer. Though music came easy to me — as natural as breathing or walking — writing, believe it or not, was hard. It took a long time of writing crap (and lots of red ink from my teachers) before writing began to make sense. The years I spent writing gave me a new perspective, and I had time to grow comfortable and confident with my own thoughts (something I never had before).

And now I'm back. I've come full circle. It was as much a surprise to me as it was to all of you lovely readers who have followed me since my first short story publication. All of last year, music kept calling me. It just took me a while to pick up the phone…

I'm a firm believer that wherever we are, is where we are supposed to be. Last night at Walla Walla Village Winery's wonderful open mic session, I played a set to celebrate the release of "Fledgling." Afterward, a gentleman came up to me and tried to impress on me how my music had moved him, how it seemed to say everything. His words fell short, but I understood the look in his eyes.

I feel like I'm right where I need to be.

Release and reflection

It has been a long road, but ultimately, an enjoyable one. I've been fortunate to have the ability and the opportunity to try my hand at recording my own CD.

"Fledgling" releases this week, and I'm still (kind of) in a state of shock. All this time and effort, and it's finally "finished"… It's rather humbling. I started this project because I felt a need to (at the very least) preserve the songs I was writing. Then it morphed into a desire to learn how this entire recording process worked, and it has been quite a learning curve. Recording is an amazing process. Over the next years, I look forward to learning more.

Should you decide to purchase a CD, it's my hope that you'll get as much enjoyment out of my lo-fi, homemade music as I did putting it together. It's my desire to play the beauty in simplicity: no gimmicks, no tricks. There's a reason people feel drawn to those back-porch summer jams and hootenanies — it's raw and it's honest, and those combine to make something touching and beautiful. I hope to do the same.

This week is going to be a wonderful rollercoaster: I'm going to be down at Walla Walla Village Winery's open mic night this week on September 1st to start the celebration of "Fledgling's" release, and then the next night I'm back at Dayton Wine Works — continuing the festivities. I will have CD copies at both places. Feel free to say hello.

Guess what these are…!!

Yep, you're right. They're the very first run of "Fledgling"!

Woop woop!!

Competition, defeat, and learning to move on

If you've been following my Facebook feed in the last couple weeks, you'll know I had been preparing for a big talent competition in Oregon. Yesterday, I competed, performing two of my own songs ("Walk with Me" and "Let Me Go") for a panel of judges and a park full of people.

Unfortunately, I didn't make the cut.

It has been ten (eleven?) years since I was last in a talent competition, and I'll say this: it's an entirely different ballgame when you're playing your own music instead of things other people wrote. If you get docked covering a song by another artist, it's luck of the draw. Maybe they didn't like that artist? Maybe the piece didn't fit you? Maybe the piece wasn't a good fit for the audience? All reasonable conclusions. This time, I played two of my own songs, and no matter how you try to distance yourself, to be objective, the fact that it was your own music makes defeat more emotional. Even though you try to be rational, it still feels like a personal affront.

I spent last night doubting my ability as a musician, as a songwriter, and as an entertainer. I, in my neurotic Pisces fashion, kept re-hashing every moment of my performance, wondering if the outcome may have been different had I played a different instrument, had I chosen and rehearsed different songs.

But that's not the point.

The point is, this is life. I've known all along that not everyone is going to enjoy my music — be it classical, jazz, Celtic, folk, or my own material. As my husband so aptly put it, "You can't please everybody." And he's right (as he usually is). There are types of music I'm simply not fond of — how can I expect everyone to be on board with my choice of material? The point is, I can't. And why should a competition be any different than anything else?

At the end of the day, I write and play the types of songs I want to play. This weekend reminded me of that. Music is art, and art shouldn't be created for money or fame or other, similar reasons (thank you again, Honey, for putting it so beautifully). Fundamentally, music should be created because you love it, because you get enjoyment out of putting something of beauty into the world.

I am a singer-songwriter, and I play and share my music because I love doing it. I needed a reminder of this, and ultimately, I am glad to have received one.

Out of the 'studio'…

Can I just say how excited I am to be able to finally say "I'm done recording"???

Wahoo!

Tonight I laid down the last three tracks for my upcoming album, "Fledgling." One of them, I had not originally intended to record –  I was going to do a different song entirely — but making the swap felt like the right decision. Now, it's on to the mixing process! And getting the inserts finished for the CDs (I hope to be able to offer a physical CD option as well)! And the CD labels! And maybe lining up a performance of some kind to celebrate the release!

Oh, lots of things for the independent musician to do. But, having the raw tracks down is a big relief to me — I always worry that when I set myself a deadline, that I'll miss it for some reason: farming duties, accidents, crazy performance schedule, day job, or zombies…

Now I feel like I can focus (guilt-free!) on writing more songs. I have so many things I want to explore! I want to do some more 'story' songs, maybe some that tie in with my ebooks. I want to experiment with different musical styles (gypsy, jazz, medieval, for starters), as well as some new playing techniques with my guitar & ukulele…

Right now, though? It just feels good to have crossed something off on my ever-bloating to-do list.

Trust Yourself

Tonight while I was taking a guitar course, I heard a very good piece of advice: "Trust yourself." It had never occurred to me how often we get caught up in playing within the lines, following the rules to default.

But we do. Whether we are consciously making an effort to do things perfectly and exactly, or if it's a subconscious habit, how many of us never push the boundaries of our creativity? How many of us never try for that little extra because of fear or conditioning or self-doubt?

I remember the moments after I finished writing my first 'real' song — "Monster" — I sat back, completely stunned at the doors I could feel opening. There was a whole, entire WORLD of new music out there! The sense was exhilarating. For a huge portion of my musical education, I had played exactly what my teachers and professors wanted me to play, exactly how they wanted it played. I played music according to all these standards, and in hindsight? It's probably a good part of what gave me post-college burnout. Like when I grew sick of analyzing literature for my English classes, I grew pinched and bored with all these damned musical rules. I came to the (erroneous, I see now) assumption that music was only this: a predetermined pattern of steps in a dance picked out by someone else. It wasn't my place to 'invent' anything. I was just a lowly little musician.

It's no wonder I didn't play a single instrument for almost three years following graduation.

Somehow, in my time 'away,' I gained the sense of self I'd been lacking. Somehow, this newfound confidence found its way into my fingers, and somehow, it found its way into that first song.

Trust yourself.

Music isn't a predetermined set of steps. Those steps are a guideline, just like those words in the dictionary are building blocks. We tend to get caught up in the minutiae, but you don't second guess yourself when you're playing with dominoes or Legos or log sets, do you?

Trust yourself. I think that's the best advice which doesn't belong to me that I can pass on today.

Her Secrets

This was a first for me. Though I've had the privilege to see some wonderfully inspiring artwork before, I've never had one literally scream at me to write a song for it…

I finished this song last week while I was attending a library conference. It won't be on this coming album, but quite possibly on a future EP.

Oh thoughtful woman in the picture

On the wall there to stay

You're looking at me with those big brown eyes

Like you've got something to say

CHORUS:

But your lips are sealed

You'll never tell

As if you're waiting for me

To break your spell

You're silent, you'll never tell

And maybe, maybe it's just as well

Oh pretty lady in the picture

Gentle Beauty dressed in blue

Are you thinking of love you've lost?

Or is he waiting somewhere for you?

CHORUS

Are you thinking about where you're going?

About what the future has in store?

Or are you just lost in the moment,

No need for anything more?

CHORUS

You're silent, you'll never tell,

And maybe, maybe it's just as well.

Luna Safari Muse review

Just because I'm incredibly impressed, I've got to give some props to Luna Guitars.

The Backstory:

When I was ten years old, I was given a cheaper acoustic guitar. It was a pretty nice Abilene jumbo dreadnought, and after some basic action and fret work, it played pretty good. I was able to learn basic guitar techniques with it (even though it was herky and HUGE), and we all kind of figured that I would grow into it.

Unfortunately, I never did.

"Big Dread," as I laughingly called it, simply didn't fit me. It was so big I couldn't play it comfortably sitting down. Though I liked how it sounded and how it looked, I finally decided to sell it at the beginning of this year.

The new Luna:

When I decided to purchase a new guitar, I already knew I wanted to seriously consider a Luna. My first ukulele was a Luna, and I was exceptionally impressed with the level of craftsmanship with it for the price point. I already knew how uncomfortable a jumbo size guitar was to play, and it just so happened at the jam night a few weeks earlier I'd seen a lady playing a 3/4 size guitar. She let me handle it, and I realized that I needed a smaller guitar. I remembered that Luna made a series of 3/4 "travel" guitars, and I went to hunting. It just so happened that the make/model I was most interested in (the Muse) was on sale the day I was looking! It was an impulsive purchase, but I can honestly say I'm very pleased.

The Nitpickies:

Again, I remain impressed with Luna's level of craftsmanship. It's a beautiful instrument made with (obviously) top-grade laminate woods. There are no sharp edges, no sharp frets. The smaller scale length makes it very easy to play, and the stock action is much lower than other "budget" guitars I've played.

When it arrived, it did have some minor intonation issues with the lower two strings. I say minor, because changing the stock strings to a set of .11s (lights) and a little sanding on the nut pretty much fixed it.

As for the playability, the body is incredibly resonant and the instrument itself is very boisterous! It sounds as loud or louder than my old Abilene Jumbo. Seriously — when I pulled it out of the box, tuned it, and strummed it for the first time, my initial response was "WOW." It has a very rich tone, and sounds like a much larger instrument.

Playing it Live:

Playing this little instrument live? (I use a Duncan Maverick soundhole pickup) It makes me sound like a powerhouse.

Thank you, Luna!!

Ukulele has made me a better guitarist

I have always said that I was — at best — an adequate guitarist. I used to fight with Big Dread (my Hooooge acoustic dreadought whom I sold earlier this year) for space in front of the music stand, I used to wrestle with it for a clear sounding 'F' chord…

It wasn't pretty. Doable, mediocre. Definitely not smooth, polished, or — heaven help me — professional.

When I discovered, the ukulele, I felt like I'd found a long-time friend. Ukulele suited me fine — it was small enough to not shove me off my own stool if I fidgeted, it happily produced any chord I wanted, even going so far as to chirp out little melodies with hammer-ons and pull-offs around the chords if I wished. It fit my hand, fit the strength of my fingers. I picked up advanced strumming and chording techniques without even seeming to work for them. Even though it didn't have enough of the bass tones I tend to crave in my music, the ukulele was a ready music-making partner, and that meant a lot.

Well, as I mentioned, I purchased a little guitar last week on the suggestion of my wise husband. And it seems I'm not nearly as poor a guitarist as I thought!

Of course, it being a 3/4 size (a Luna Safari Muse, if you're interested) certainly helps — like my beloved Lanikai ukulele, it doesn't try to shove me off my stool or fight me over a simple 'F' chord.

But the neatest thing? I do believe playing the ukulele for the last (almost) year has strengthened my fretted instrument skills. Handling this sweet little guitar, I no longer have the sick sense that I'm bumbling over the strings.

I feel a little like Goldilocks.