Tuesday, December 27, 2022

We're Sorry to See You Go


After much

deliberation

I have decided 


that if 

one day

by simply taking 


a few minutes

to fill out 

a short internet survey


I become eligible 

and win

a free limited time gift


of a generator 

or a power drill

or a $50 gift certificate

or an unlocked iPhone

or a brand new crock pot


I will plan to donate 

my prize to the 

honorable but unfortunate


men and women

who have served in 

our country’s military interest


while drinking 

the water

at Camp LeJeune


as a way

to honor their

strength and perseverance


which are the very attributes 

I now lack after many months 

of unsubscribing from mailing lists


all the while knowing

that the unsubscribe ritual 

doesn’t seem to do anything


but ruin the enjoyment 

of my first two cups 

of morning coffee


and reaffirm my suspicion that

these websites aren’t the least bit 

sorry to see me go



Ken Owen   December 2022

Van Niddy Press

Friday, December 9, 2022

Ain't Wastin' Time No More


I have read recent posts from musicians remarking about poorly attended local music shows, and knowing all too well the time and preparation it takes to provide a live performance, I understand their frustration. There was no mention in these posts about the current (finally!) rainy weather that we have been experiencing, the fact that we had started the holiday season where many social commitments do battle for our time, and that perhaps many folks, after a brief summer respite, might be concerned about attending events at the start of the new “Covid, Cold, and Flu Season.” Let’s hope these working musicians are just bumping into a seasonal slow down and a bit of extra caution before the holiday parties start.


I offer my utmost respect to the musicians who told stories of performing to extremely small crowds and then having those few patrons tell how much they appreciated their music. These musicians (and those who responded with comments in kind) remarked on how they consider it their “job” to bring music to the world, and I am proud to have worked with many of these good people who think of me as their musical peer and a friend.


But here’s the thing for me: music is no longer my job.


I recently opted out of one night of a residence gig (a repeating monthly show that schedules many months in advance). Though I realize there is no exact science in pre-determining a gig’s attendance unless tickets are sold in advance (which is not usually the case in bar gigs), I anticipated that because of where the date and time landed on the calendar for that month, the gig stood a good chance of being poorly attended. I canceled my participation 5 weeks in advance and said I would play if the band could not find a sub (they did), and I offered my apology for not reviewing my calendar sooner in regards to the date. As you might imagine and I’m sure many will share the same feeling, the band leader was less than pleased at my reasons for canceling.


I believe that if we spend time in personal reflection, we can find a life lesson in all of our experiences. The strong feelings that prompted my decision to back out of a gig have shown me that my priorities are shifting as I get older, and it’s time for me to rethink the value of all my time commitments, not just live performances. So going forward, my “job” will be to make sure my time is used to achieve the greatest benefit, artistic and otherwise, for myself and others, while also using this scenario as reminder of something to be aware of when doing my calendar management.

 

I am sure there will be many rebuttals to my logic for canceling, with one of them being that music performance as a business needs a following to be built/established; it doesn’t come fully baked with a packed house. I have been a part of many groups over the years that have worked hard at getting people to come to shows to build a “scene” for a club and a following for the band; I have played on the residence gig in question for 5+ years. I have put in countless hours at various gigs that were well attended, and many gigs that included 5 band members and a bar tender doing inventory. I understand this comes with the territory. I have never needed the adulation of a full house in order to feel like it was a successful gig—with a small audience, at the very least, I was honing my craft—but I will be 65 years old at the end of this month, and if living through 3 years of a deadly plague has taught me anything, it is that 1) our time here is a very precious and limited commodity that should be highly valued, and 2) there are many ways I can be creative and giving besides performing live music. 


So with the time I have left, I am going to prioritize and balance my time across many possibilities: writing a song, a poem, an essay, letters to friends or loved ones; documenting my family history, playing my guitar, reading a book, studying a documentary, spending quality time with friends and family, as well as performing live music. I am not retiring from live performances, but gigs are going to have to make a stronger case now for their place on my list of things to accomplish. 


I realize I am in a very fortunate position that might not be an available option for some of my working musician friends, but I hope they can understand my change in attitude and availability, and know that I look forward to the possibility of many challenging and rewarding collaborations with all my talented friends in the years to come.



Ken Owen
December 2022