avec la musique vien l'espoire

At the present moment, the scene is too sweet to be real and the elation I feel due to it’s beauty is only vaguely hampered by the fact that it’s surreal nature is reminding me of neon bright moments in a David Lynch film that cause the audience to feel disconcerted and question how quickly the situation will decline, like the yellow tulips in “Blue Velvet”. It’s just after three o’clock on an early fall Sunday afternoon in Marseille. The weekend was rainy, mocking the sunny weather citizens of the city with coat-and-jacket temperatures and wind. But today the sun has come out and all that remains of the rain is a refreshing cool. The sky is clear and bright, but for a few white puffy clouds. I’ve just finished hanging my laundry to dry in the floor-to-ceiling window of my antique fourth story apartment. Standing in the window, I can hear birds chirping, and in the apartment just across the street someone is practicing classical piano with the windows open. The sound is clear and flawless. So flawless that after several minutes listening, I establish that it is actually a recording… Wait a moment… No, in fact it is not a recording. The pianist has switched styles to something more along the lines of jazz and is now joined by a female vocalist. She has a clean, flawless, alto voice carrying with it the passion in the song she’s singing. Whatever is going on over there, I wish I were a part of it.
I am still searching to make music a bigger part of me, to play an instrument, to sing, to be the music and not just stand by and listen to it. Thus far I have only succeeded in becoming a groupie to every solid musician I hear.
I’ve had moments where I felt the honored guest, but still I was nothing but a groupie. I went out for some beers a couple of weeks ago with two of the members of the Clair de Lune Trio at a bar near Place Jean Jaurès. In a somewhat secluded corner of the bar I sat between the guitarist and the violinist as they played a mad rendition of a Django Reinhardt song. This was the conclusion of an anxious day. I was sick with a head cold or an allergy and I was frustrated with flakey restaurant managers who lead me on and never gave me a job. I was just on the border of a decision to leave Marseille and go somewhere more secure when these musicians called me at midnight to join them for a drink. Avec la musique vien l’espoire… And due to the hope that accompanied the music that night, I assertively decided to stay. When I express my desire to be more of a musician, every good musician I meet reminds me what kind of hard work that will take…
I suppose the problem is, it’s difficult to pursue a new activity with the kind of gusto I’d like to dive into music when other necessities of living are not yet in place… Such as job… But over the past week, I’ve failed to be extraordinarily stressed about my tragic financial situation. I’m a young American woman profiting from the present with the Marseille sun and the Mediterranean Sea… In a few days, I’m sure I’ll be hit by another wave of anxiety but for now ça va.
Last night more music. Electronic night at Marsatac, the big out door music festival for the young and hip held each year in Marseille. After two hours of handing out fliers advertising another concert in front of the venue, I went in with a small group of people I’d been working with. I promptly lost them all and walking alone, took in the energy of the evening. When I started to get cold, I went to a tent where musicians were playing, and though I’d never heard of them, I pushed my way to front center and danced.
As late afternoon turns to early evening, the sound of a tap dancer has joined the pianist and the singer. The sun is slowly withdrawing from my window and I’m beginning to feel chilly… Fragments of momentary loneliness, wishing for someone closer to keep me warm, but for now I’ll put on a sweater and keep listening to the music being wrung out of the city through the early autumn night.