The soundtrack of my life is deep and varied. I fell asleep
to my parent’s popular rock band rehearsing in the next room – think Steely Dan
meets Heart. I have a coveted recording
of them playing live to a large crowd in downtown Oklahoma City in 1976. I fell in love with my parents’ music,
including way too much reverb and an overly emotional abundance of cowbell.
When I had my own differentiation of musical preference from my parents – the
’80's alternative music of my adolescence – it felt like a personal attack on
my father's homegrown three-piece band.
In addition, my grandmother's love of Big Band and adoration of Lawrence
Welk made my appreciation for cheesy
deep rooted. My own songwriting started
young. I have been composing with
childhood friends for as long as I can remember: rewriting childhood songs and
creating rock operas on roller skates a
la Xanadu.
At every major transition in my life, I can document one of
three signs: a radical hair transformation (usually from red to blond or blonde
to red), a new tattoo (more about that later), or a renewed interest, or really
a return, to my music. Music has been
home for me. I was in a band when I left
home at 16. It was music that carried me through my exchange student year
abroad – it expressed what I was feeling and helped me make friends. In college it punctuated my philosophical
angst. During my teaching career, music
brought me closer to the students and other teachers. In seminary, it told the story of my
deepening personality, helped me make a mediocre sermon memorable worship, and
developed relationships outside of the ministry. All through the years my
parents’ original music has looped through the soundtrack of my life to support
me. And it still does, even though my dad is no longer physically with me.
Last week I was in the studio recording my first *real*
album. I say real because there are hours
and hours of live recordings of me playing with a blues band in Chicago, and
there is our garage mix of a few of my songs we did while I was in
seminary. But this is the first time I
have had artistic control and the resources to record and arrange my music in a
way that I imagine it in my head. It is
incredible. I wrote a song called “Dear
Oklahoma,” also the title of the album, that is way bigger than me. It caught the attention of some musician
friends from the East Coast who just happened to be in town and wanted to offer
vocals. And so last Friday I found myself in a collar, in the studio, recording
“Dear Oklahoma.” And then later that
evening, I opened the show with Emma's Revolution in front of legendary
activist folk artist Holly Near. Last
night I recorded a version of one of my father's songs.
And now Beckett will have my songs as well as my father's
added to the soundtrack of her life.
Congratulations! good luck on the recording, too!
ReplyDeleteThanks!
DeleteThe song is beautiful, Tamara.
ReplyDeleteThanks! Hoping to share far and wide please help me spread the word..
Delete