Caving In to Fame

Recently Brian and I attended the Midwestern Arts Conference out in Grand Rapids, Michigan. It was an opportunity for performing arts center directors from around the country to meet artists hoping to play those centers. Luckily, we have had the chance to perform at a lot of them and have made some outstanding friends of those who direct these bastions of live music.

One such friend, David Fink, director of the Acorn Theater in Three Oaks, Michigan, delivered a remark that really got me thinking. Saying that people are not really truthful when it comes to what would get them to a live music show, he remarked, “You either have to offer someone famous or have a burlesque show to get people to come out." I looked at him to see if he was joking. He was not.   

If one looks at burlesque as the need to arouse the forbidden curiosity in people, I would say David is right.  The runaway popularity of reality television shows certainly provides proof that most people lean toward titillation.  And he’s right about fame.  Merriam Webster dictionary defines fame as a) widely known and b) honored for achievement.  Facebook and YouTube are certainly rife with examples of people searching to be widely known or honored for achieving something, even if it is posting a video of their cat flushing the toilet.  A person who is acknowledged to be famous and has a following of the masses, even an association with something famous, such as being in a movie or play, gets a following.  

So what is a band like ours to do? I pondered this as we started setting up for the cave concert at the Natural Gait. We had no idea how many people would show. Certainly they would not be coming out to see any burlesque. Thank God! As Herb started the tractor to pull a basket holding Nick’s drums on a rope and pulley system up the hill, I thought about fame.

Being famous was never part of the agenda for Brian and me. But why do people come out to see us play? How can we assure festivals and performing arts centers, who are literally looking for “the bottom line,” that we have the draw to bring people in?  It is a dilemma.

Walking up the steep hillside to the cave, I thought back to one evening in the early days when Brian and I played a very empty coffee house in Oak Park. The owner looked at us with something just short of contempt as we started to play to no one.  Finally, three people came in the door after I fervently prayed to God to please get some people to come to the show. The three came in, sat down and started doing sign-language to each other. God does have a sense of humor.

However, being a musician is always about playing for people, touching their souls. That is what matters most no matter what size the crowd. I never really thought about fame, but I did hope that people would come out to hear our music and be moved enough to come out again and bring “twenty of their closest friends.” So the WayGood World came into existence, based on the truth that anyone who believes in our music can certainly help us get it out to others and share in the adventure of music and community. You can play music in an empty room, but you are really making music when you share it with others who complete the necessary circle.

Natural Gait owner Howard Bright had started a fire earlier that day up at the cave and now it was down to red coals with a thin wisp of smoke trailing up and out of the cave and through the woods. The trees were starting to change color and the air was cool.  I thought about the Native Americans who once lived in this cave. Was their best hunter or best moccasin maker “famous”? What was being "widely known" like back then? Did it matter?  

People started coming up the hill. Some had seen us play at other venues and others were there to see us for the first time.  Pretty soon, about 80 people were in the audience waiting for us to start playing. The ages ranged from youngsters to several older folks who made the amazing climb to the cave. Howard got up and addressed the people about the history of the land and the cave.  We began to play and as the evening got cooler, we worked into one set after another, feeling warmer with each note produced. People got up and danced as a whole musical community was created for that night.  There, Iowa stars danced above magic made not just by us, but by our audience joining us at the concert.  

I realize that “fame” is a word with many meanings. With today’s media, being famous can be wholly manufactured by a good PR firm and enough money. For myself, I feel that having fans who believe in our music and share the journey with Switchback is reward enough. I understand though, that one can’t just have talent and succeed. That there is the business side of music and that side demands that you have a big following.  

At the end of the concert, when talking to people who come from miles away to share an evening of their time on earth with us, I can’t help but express the gratitude for friends who believe in our music. I am totally blessed by those who help spread the word about Switchback. If we are to be “well-known” and “honored for achievement,” if we all have to cave in to the business demand of fame, it will only be through the magic that is forged between us all at a concert.   

Change in the Air

“Look at that,” said Keith Riker, who is part of our Rocky Mountain Combo, as we drove along Upper Bear Creek, just north of the town of Evergreen, Colorado. “The cottonwoods are already starting to yellow at the tops.”  Sure enough, alongside the rushing waters of the Bear, we looked up and saw the trees in passing, yellow tipped against the pure blue sky.  Fall had announced its return and even though Labor Day hadn’t occurred yet, a slight feeling of cold and the inevitable snowfall on the Rockies betrayed the warm day.  

Change. There was a time when I did not like the word, mainly because I would confuse it with growing older.  Change always signified something unsettling to me and yet, over time, I realized that there is the gift of growth in there, too.

We’ve certainly been going through a great deal of change in Switchback.  Our songwriting is becoming more solid and the number of shows continues to grow.  By the time you read this newsletter, we will have performed Falling Water River with the Grand Pops Orchestra in Dubuque.  It certainly marks a historical milestone for Switchback and one that hopefully will see us taking the stage with more symphonies around North America. (Click here to listen to a sample of music from the orchestral debut).  Those fans of ours who saw us playing at the Irish Times of Brookfield, Illinois on a late Sunday evening back in the 1990’s certainly will appreciate that change.  

Another change has been the growth of participation in our tours to Ireland.  We have over 40 people joining us for the tour to Kinsale this year and already are starting to take names for next year’s visit to Donegal.  Since 2004 we have conducted a yearly tour and sometimes even two tours in a year.  All in all several hundred fans have now walked the fields and forests of Ireland and shared a pint in a pub with Switchback.  

Another change has been the growth in collaborations with renowned artists.  On October 16th, Chicagoans will have the chance to celebrate the return of WayGood Presents, the series that brings unique artists and Switchback to perform an intimate concert.  The first concert will feature Alyth McCormack and Triona Marshall, who currently tour with our friends the Chieftains.  There are plans to introduce a similar concert series around Memphis.  Stay tuned.

The change of the seasons used to be something that meant a slowing down for Switchback, but Brian and I are starting to play through the winter months, too. January and February will see Switchback roam from Canada to a few miles north of Mexico. We’ve also taken to the air quite a bit as Labor Day weekend saw us move from Chicago to Iowa, Minnesota, Colorado, and back to Minnesota and Iowa all in five days!

This February will bring us the arrival of the album Kanoka, which will once again feature the producing and stringmaster talents of Lloyd Maines as well as the heavenly harmonica of Howard Levy.  These are stellar musicians to be able to play with and we feel truly blessed.

Through it all, we attempt to keep focus on our mission with Switchback:  to touch as many souls through music and to reach out to those who need a little music in their lives. Yes, the leaves are starting to change, but it doesn’t signify anything sad for me anymore. I now look at it as a reminder of the blessings of music and our gratitude to have traveled this trail with our fans.

See you at a show!

Marty (and Brian)

Review of the Falling Water River Orchestral Debut

By Kay Shelton

On an early September evening, an audience in Dubuque had the opportunity to experience a masterpiece in progress.  Before artists began shifting away from producing complete albums and instead creating one song at a time for MP3 downloads, the duo Switchback produced “Falling Water River” as a tribute to fallen soldiers in 2005.  Since then, conductor of the Grand Pops Orchestra, Paul Hemmer, orchestrated the complete album, performed last weekend with Switchback and the orchestra.  This orchestration involved transforming music for two lead singers and two guitars (or a mandolin) and a couple of background instruments into music for a small orchestra and chorus, totaling over two dozen performers. (Click here to listen to a sample of music from the orchestral debut).

I hope the audience had a sense of how brilliant the orchestration was for this work. Orchestration is an art, a craft, and a science all rolled into one. Not even Beethoven got orchestration right, according to Richard Wagner who re-orchestrated significant sections of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. (In Beethoven’s defense, the technology of brass instruments changed by Wagner’s lifetime.)

Orchestration takes knowledge of all the capabilities of the instruments and what happens with the sound when they are blended together.  It takes knowledge of how to write the notes for the various instruments because they are not all the same. None of that is as easy as it may seem. What bowing should the violins use? Should there be solos for the melody and which instruments should play them? There are dozens of different percussion instruments, which ones to choose? Those seemingly simple questions are not so simple.  Then, add in a chorus; a celeste; and the lead voices, guitars, and mandolin of Brian and Marty. When should the chorus sing, and when should they not sing? Everything becomes a choice, but based upon extensive knowledge.  There are literally thousands of different choices to make in orchestration.

The Grand Pops Orchestra is smaller compared to a full-sized symphony orchestra and that is more of a challenge, too. There is only one flute, one oboe, one trumpet, one trombone, etc., etc., etc. One wrong choice could result in a very exposed sound with the size of the pops orchestra. There were no wrong choices in the orchestration. The celeste, known mostly for the iconic “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” by Tchaikovsky can easily become abused and turned into a gimmick—not so in this work.  Instead, the celeste added beauty and dignity to an otherwise tragic event, the death of a soldier.

Probably the best section of the work is “Requiem” The sound of the violins was ethereal, like it came down from Heaven itself.

Overall, however, despite the theme of the music, “Falling Water River” is not overly dramatic.  There are some bright spots in the music.  Usually performers remain motionless, stoic, and seemingly uncaring when they are sitting on stage, waiting for their turns.  The performance in Dubuque shattered that mold, too.  A couple of the women in the chorus tapped their feet and nodded their heads in time with the music in between their singing parts.  It was refreshing to see the performers not hide their enjoyment of the music.

It was difficult to absorb the sheer genius of this work in just one performance. There was a second performance of “Falling Water River” the next day but my work schedule was a major barrier.  Otherwise, I would have grabbed a hotel room in Dubuque on the spur of the moment and heard the work again the next day. 

A few years ago, one of my co-workers got sent to Iraq in the National Guard.  He returned two years later.  The first time I saw him again, I gave him a hug but he held me more closely and tightly than I ever expected, and he rested his warm cheek against mine.  It was a sense of touch that I cannot forget.  Now I understand.  It was as though that former soldier understood how lucky he was to return, unharmed, and he conveyed his luckiness in one short embrace.  When I hear the brighter places in “Falling Water River,” I can almost feel him holding me tightly.  I cannot, however, imagine what it must be like for those whose loved ones never returned, and they will never feel that kind of a touch from their soldiers again.