What 2020 Needs More Than Anything Else: Artists.

I’m not sure how long my average blog reader has been with me. How long have you been popping in on Sundays for a weekly dose of my cheery rambling? (Let me know in the comments below!) If you’re an old fan, you probably know most everything about me. But if you’re new here, perhaps you aren’t aware of my deep dark secret:

I’m a music nerd.

Ok, it’s actually not a deep, dark secret. In fact, it’s something I’m secretly pretty proud of. In high school, I spent half of my senior year carpooling with my friend Quinn to another school across the county that specialised in music. We spent our mornings dissecting Vivaldi, practicing our acapella harmonies, and I even got to bang the mini-pitchfork looking thing to find our key (THIS is what i’m talking about). On our drives to AMS, as it used to be called, Quinn and I would listen to the latest classical movie scores (How to Train Your Dragon has a BEAUTIFUL soundtrack) and he’d enlighten me as to what was new in the classical world (he knows way more than I do). Honestly, those mornings filled with music formed a pretty decent part of my adolescent character.

Sure, I went on to pursue a career as a singer in New York and eventually landed abroad, but those days filled with Vivaldi, Beethoven, and Eric Whitacre (listen to his stuff) gave me the foundation I needed to feel confident with a new piece of music, whether it be a Queen song on a cruise ship in the middle of nowhere or God Bless America on a military stage in Anchorage, Alaska. 

And now, as I spend my workdays offstage, behind a computer screen, I sometimes forget that little part of me that lived for mornings of chord progressions and solfege syllables (think “Do Re Mi.” Hey, you learned something new today!). But this week, I saw something that gave me a jolt reaction and catapulted that piece of my creative heart to the front of my lil’ cranium.

Perhaps you’ve seen it, but this week an ad in the UK went viral. It features a beautiful ballet dancer lacing up her pointe shoes, with a caption that highlights how much more successful she could be if she would ditch the arts and take up programming. Now, let’s be clear here. I’m a person who did something very similar to that, so I’m ALL about adaptability.

But as I saw this ad, I sat listening to my inspirational choral morning playlist, going through my emails in the most serene state, thanks to various choirs all around the world who put their music on Spotify. And just now, as I write this post, the gorgeous tone of Peter Hollens’ voice is flowing through my headphones. Peter Hollens, with the wheels of the plane lifting off the ground, give my stomach that tiny, butterfly feeling and my heart an unmistakable pitter-patter. Just as P!NK and Jess Glynne give my Friday afternoons the most energizing, sliding-into-the-weekend feeling. And just like “Fields of Gold” and “Sunshine On My Shoulders” always bring a misty sparkle to my eye, recalling both of my older sisters’ weddings. 

Music makes us feel things.

While that might sound like basic caveman speak, this is something I’ve been thinking about ever since I saw that stupid ad. My week would be infinitely more dull, if it weren’t for the tireless work of artists all around the globe. And it’s not just for warm, fuzzy feelings. How many movements and causes have gotten an extra boost of support, thanks to a striking, emotional power ballad? And how many dysfunctional families were pushed to have meaningful, uncomfortable conversations after seeing Broadway musicals like “Next to Normal” and “Fun Home”? How many kids, feeling like outcasts from their peers, found silent comfort in seeing movies like “Billy Elliot”?

Almost since the beginning of time, music and art have allowed us to express feelings and thoughts, both deliberately and subtly, that give us simultaneous release and inspiration. This push and pull of effort and fulfilment is exactly what 16-year-old Emily felt, as she sat trying to decipher which movement of the Four Seasons was playing, by ear. It’s the exact same feeling that, after throwing together a pandemic-friendly concert with my friend Suzanne, had grateful Germans coming up to the two of us, exclaiming how we’d touched their hearts, thank to our hours of rehearsal that nobody saw. 

In the middle of a lonely, uncertain, and anxiety-inducing time we’d given people music. Sometimes sad. Sometimes happy. And sometimes downright silly. And it touched people. Just like Peter Hollens and Leon Bridges touch every corner of my heart when I’m en route to a new adventure. 

People would have been fine without Suzanne’s and my concert. Just like living rooms can still be occupied without an overwhelming number of Netflix options to choose from. Restaurants can still serve food without unique soundtracks playing in the background. And New York can still be a busy metropolis without the bright lights of Broadway marquees.

But take away the art, and artist, from every one of those situations and you have something that feels slightly empty. Incomplete. Lifeless.

Life, for almost everyone at the moment, is a new adventure. There are feelings, thoughts, and stressors consuming us that we’ve never encountered before. It’s in these times that we need artists and musicians more than ever. So no, we should not be encouraging them to pursue programming and urging them to leave their expressive performances for a later, more “normal” time. We should be supporting them on their quest to discover new mediums, socially-distanced performances, and feelings that the rest of us simply can’t figure out how to face. Because they’ve been showing us how to deal with our feelings all along. We just didn’t know it.

So before I step off my soapbox, I’d like to say now is the time we should be thanking artists for every time they were there for us, whether we knew it or not, to help us heal.

Because goodness knows we could all use a little healing right now…