Friday, January 1, 2010
I am not a big New Year’s resolution maker. I find that, for me, they have proven ineffective.
There was the year that I smoked a whole pack of cigarettes on New Year’s Eve in an effort to make myself so nauseous I would never smoke again. Didn’t work. I finally quit cold-turkey on a random Saturday in April of 2002. Years spent making a lot of fruitless promises to God on New Year’s Eve- all the ways I would miraculously change my own character flaws overnight- by my own strength of course. Not so much. I’ve cleaned out closets that eventually fell back into patterns of chaos. I’ve resolved to become better, more perfected in ways that I can’t even begin to number. And somewhere around Jan 21st, or oftentimes much earlier, I awake to the realization that I am still me. Reliably dependable, messed-up-in-the-most-beautiful-and-irritating-of-ways me.
And then there are the diets. You know what I’m talking about. Especially if you are a girl. But guys, I know you’re feeling me too, and I don’t wish to leave you out. What is it about the turning of the annual clock that possesses us to put ourselves through the ringer? I have not met enough people who say, this year, I am going to accept myself like I am. This year, I resolve to love myself.
You know what I love about the life I live now? I started my weight loss journey on a Tuesday in August. There was nothing special about the day or date. It was just time. And I was ready. And every day I either choose to stay on the journey or not. And then I decide again the next day, or hour, or bite. And even when I feel like I’m not on the right journey anymore, I still am. The journey is.
Since I turned over a new leaf on December 1st, I have lost 8 pounds and 10.25 inches. I feel great about that. The holidays were not without their fair share of speed bumps- like the week I gained 4 pounds. Oops. It happens. And I am brave enough to own the choices that led to the gain. I can safely say somewhere in that gain was a stellar sodium-laden meal at Irma’s the night before weigh-in, a cupcake (or two) and some days where I chose to eat my stress instead of taking a walk. I also wore jeans to weigh-in, which I never do, and most of us girls have a week every month where we retain water like a camel. It’s OK. The next week I answered back with a loss of 4.8 pounds.
As far as I’m concerned making it through the holidays while maintaining my weight would have been considered a win. But I feel great that more days were spent loving myself with health than punishing myself with unhealthy food behaviors. That’s progress, not perfection. And I’ll take it.
How are things going for you? Were you kind to you this Christmas? If not, why not? I hope you don’t resolve anything this year but to treat yourself with love and kindness. And if you must set a goal that starts this New Year off, take it in baby steps.. maybe set a goal for today, not for all of 2010. I didn’t set out to lose 100 pounds, I just wanted to get out and run. The worst kind of goals are the ones that set you up to fail before you even have a chance to get started. I find what works best for me is to break my big goals down into bite-size pieces. And don’t be afraid to write down your small goal for today- a goal without a deadline is just a wish.
I hope this year brings each of you health and happiness.
Peace.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
I remember living in Nashville over 10 years ago crossing my fingers that one day I might have a record of my own. And then arose the opportunity to record an album for free in a friend’s basement. I was thrilled. Over the moon. A life-long dream was materializing before my eyes. Back then, I felt that having a CD of my own was this legitimizing symbol. All the work was not in vain, all the years of lessons and sacrifices were wrapped in one shiny disc. I can call up that joy at a moment’s notice. The kid at Christmas feeling- wide-eyed and hopeful.
The funny thing is at the time I don’t think I had even dreamed much past that first CD. It was such a pinnacle. And then I “released” it in July 2000 to a hometown crowd of over 400 people. (In this context, release is a very loose term meaning manufactured and sold at shows.) The work required to just get the record out to a buying public was formidable. The morning after the CD release concert I woke up with my jaw locked open. I had been so stressed that I developed TMJ. I was completely unaware of the toll it was taking on me physically and emotionally. It’s all kind of a blur now, but the other day David reminded me what a mess I was the night before the release show. And he’s right. I had to be talked down from a ledge. It was the typical bad rehearsal, great opening night scenario. But I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.
As cliche as this seems, I cannot believe it’s been a decade since I first made that record. But inevitably, time passes whether we’re paying attention or not. Two more records have come and gone since that initial effort. And each record has brought new challenges and lessons. I have learned so much, it makes the “me” 10 years ago look like a complete amateur. Which I was. But aren’t we always just doing the best we can with what we have? I know that’s what I strive for… most days.
The pending new year finds me poised to release my 4th record, entitled Orchid, out into the world. Around here we’ve adopted a sort of “Go big or go home” mentality with this project. We’ve pooled all the knowledge we’ve collected over the years, and are implementing a strategy to release Orchid nationally. Orchid has been completely fan-funded, and we have been blown away by your generosity. To learn more about the “Become My Record Label” project (still ongoing!) click here: Become My Record Label.
So this week we are putting together the press kits that will be sent out to the national media. I love the creative part of the process, and so designing the look and feel of the folders has been a treat for me. But the other minutia I could live without as it does seem to drag on a bit. I know it will all feel worth it Tuesday when I stand at the post office and let them go like little balloons floating out into the world.
All that being said, when I think back on the release of Times Like These, I can see how far I’ve come on so many levels. I am still learning for sure, but I can see the ways I take better care of myself during the process…
Which brings me to a quick side-note update for you who are interested: I lost 3 pounds this week! I worked my tail off and stuck to my plan and it paid off! I was so pumped at my weigh in! I am back up to running 4.5 miles. My workouts are a key component of my stress-management plan as we head into the Orchid release. Even with the mile-long to-do lists this week I made sure to put myself on the list, too. There was only one day that got away without me exercising- and I’m not beating myself up about it. Right now, we are on the road to play a show in Iowa tonight. Being in the car has reminded me all the challenges that are ahead. I’m still learning how to make this all work. But today has been a success. We packed food in our cooler and when I was unhappy with my choices, I bought a banana at a convenience store instead of a cookie. One step at a time…. So I’ve lost a total of 6.6 pounds and have 23.4 to get back to my lowest point. And I’m totally going to do it!
Now back to the topic at hand… the Orchid release. I wanted to make sure you all knew that we are doing a pre-release to help raise money for the Food Bank. To order yours today visit: http://blog.kcclifford.com/orchid You have until Dec 24th and then they will not be available for purchase until the CD release concerts at the Blue Door on Friday, Feb. 12th & Saturday, Feb. 13th at 8 pm. To purchase advance tickets for the shows visit the Blue Door website.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Starting over. I have an issue with that phrase. I think it doesn’t do justice to the process of life and learning. But I am not sure what other phrase to use. I’ve been known to say, “I’m hitting the reset button,” but again, that statement kind of cheats me. I don’t want a blank slate, not even really a do-over. I want nothing to do with the implied negation of everything that has come before. Because that seems a little harsh, and I am hoping to be kinder to myself these days. I’d like to identify myself with a process of grace, of kindness and compassion to who I am, where I’ve been and where I’m going. With all of that in mind, I’ve decided to say “I am turning over a new leaf.” If my research is correct, that phrase is derived from the literal turning of a page (or leaf) in a book. It is not like I’m going to burn the chapters that came before. On the contrary, those chapters are essential, necessary elements of the ongoing story. And I love a good story. I am taking what I’ve learned so far and turning over to the next page, to see what comes next. Oh, the ever-unfolding story of life.
Most of you reading probably know that a year or so ago I lost over 100 pounds. Although I see my weight loss journey on a much longer continuum, for my purposes in this post, I’ll mark August 2007 as a significant crossroads. That’s when I started losing weight. But years of emotional growth preceded that crossroads. I turned over a new leaf and began to be intentional about getting physically healthy, but I couldn’t have done that without all the chapters that came before. So it wasn’t like I started over. A year to the day I started, I was 102 pounds lighter. August 2007-August 2008 was a remarkable, transformative year, in more ways than just physically. The learning curve was steep, and I was constantly regaining my footing to adjust to the rapid changes in my body, mind and emotions. As a matter of fact, I still feel like I am trying to catch up emotionally to the new version of me.
But in order to bring you into the now with me, I need to review the last few pages of the story for you. Get you caught up. I value authenticity, and I want to live in the truth of today. So here’s the rest of the story…
For most of the year of my initial weight loss, I worked a desk job. Very predictable hours. I brought my lunch every day. Since I sat at a computer all day, I tracked my food online at http://www.weightwatchers.com. I worked out in the morning or sometimes at my lunch hour. I was training for a half marathon, and my life generally possessed a consistent flow.
In the late spring/early summer of 2008, I lost my day-job. A true blessing in disguise, I was handed the gift of a chance to pursue my music dream full-time. We adopted the motto, “Leap and the net will appear” and to this day, it has. Jumping into full-time touring was a huge risk, but it was one we had to take. By the end of the summer, David had left his day-job too, and we hit the road together. We are living our dream to this day.
But with the dream of touring came a whole new pace of life I was not used to. Incorporating my food and exercise plan into a life of constant travel has proven to be a formidable challenge. Some tours have been more successful than others in this regard. By no means do I feel that I have mastered the task of taking care of my health while on the road. My therapist and I have spoken at length of the why behind my food behaviors and how I crave nurture. Food is a false nurture, but sometimes you just take what you can get. When your sick on tour in the cold rain of Philadelphia and you haven’t been home for a few weeks, sometimes a milkshake can masquerade as comfort. Don’t get me wrong, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with a milkshake. I am not into deprivation and restriction anymore. My food plan is not about punishment. But a milkshake cannot be part of every day eating for me. It’s not what’s best, what’s loving and kind to me in the long run. A fellow Weight Watcher’s member taught me the phrase, “Never ask a cookie to do more than a cookie can do.” And that’s so true.
Right after 2008 turned into 2009, the swell of activity surrounding the Biggest Loser segment commenced. For all intents and purposes, from New Year’s Day onward was a whirlwind. I was kind of a mess. And I thought my head might spin off axis, but I kept putting one foot in front of the other. On Jan 22 I landed in the ER with a gallbladder attack- my first ever. I have never known pain of that nature. Yowza, that was intense. As a side note, apparently 25% of women who have significant weight loss end up having their gall bladders removed. Who knew, right? The news came that uninsured me needed to have surgery, and quickly. Honestly, I treated the whole having an organ removed thing like a blip on the radar. In my mind, I didn’t have time to think about it. I scheduled the surgery asap, and 4 days after surgery I was in Kansas City performing for 2 nights, incisions, painkillers and all. A week after my surgery, The Biggest Loser returned to Oklahoma City for the second time to film a segment about me and my music. If you watch the segment video, I’m doing abs on a ball. The whole time I was wincing in pain from the incisions in my belly feeling like they were ripping apart at the seams. Two days later, David and I left for the east coast on tour for a month.
My body did not respond well to my lack of compassion. My digestive system staged full-on, inconveniently-timed rebellion strikes against me. I didn’t know what to eat or what not to eat to be safe. On top of my gall bladder removal side effects, I got sick with sinus infections twice on tour- the first week and the last week. I had 4 rounds of antibiotics in 7 weeks. I was ragged, in my body and my spirit. The tour ended with a bang on March 10th with the airing of my segment on the Biggest Loser and two television interviews in Indianapolis. In an effort to make it from Boston to Indy on time for the news broadcast, we slept for 4 hours in the car in a Love’s parking lot somewhere in Pennsylvania the night before. I didn’t even leave myself time to shower before being interviewed on TV.
Three days after returning home from tour we went into the studio to begin recording my new CD, “Orchid.” If you’ve never been through a creative process like making an album, just trust me when I say the emotional, mental and physical outlay is tremendous. We worked almost everyday for a month. The studio is creative childbirth- all those sounds and energy and ideas pushing their way to the surface, and formulating and growing and changing all the while. It’s beautiful and intense. It’s exhausting and exhilarating.
I emerged in late April and early May a fraction of myself. With the looming hospital bills we didn’t have the means to pay and business debts related to the marketing push around Biggest Loser, I was pretty strung out on stress. I was irritable and exhausted. I couldn’t stop crying and I wanted to sleep all the time. I was really out of touch with my heart. In mid-May, my therapist suggested that I was suffering from a pretty intense bout of depression. This information came not as a surprise, but a relief. I felt so out of control, and I just kept trying to whip myself into shape. Suck it up, walk it off, get over it, snap out of it. But I couldn’t.
I have a history of depression, I’m not ashamed of this and neither should you be if you battle it. It’s chemistry. I first started struggling in middle school. I was medicated for it in my early twenties. Eventually, under Dr.’s care, I came off my meds and learned how to manage my depression without them. Until this year. I learned that as one who is prone to depression, an event like my gallbladder surgery can set me off. The phrase Glen, my therapist, used was this: “The body doesn’t know the difference between a surgeon’s knife and gunshot wound. Trauma in the body is trauma in the body.” A traumatic physical event like surgery can trigger a depression in anyone, especially if their already living with depression as their baseline. Add to the surgery a tour, more illness, the outlay of a new CD and some national TV exposure and Wham! You have yourself a nice bout of depression. He thought I might resist going back on meds, but to his surprise, I happily deferred to his suggestion. I knew he was right, and I felt so grateful to have someone looking out for me. My response to him was, “I’m all about solutions, Glen.” Truer words have never been uttered about me.
I wish I could tell you that 3-5 weeks later I felt better, but that was not the case. The first drug they put me on was not effective, and actually caused my depression to severely worsen. Suffice it to say, June and early July brought some very dark days for me. It turns out, the medicine was not indicated for lethargic depression, and had a negative effect. I did not need to come down anymore. Once they realized what was wrong, I was switched to Prozac, my old friend. I am fairly certain God himself invented Prozac.
I would have to wait until mid-August to really start feeling better. It was a long, hard summer. I’d be just fine if I never saw those days again. I don’t know what I would have done without David, Glen, and a few dear friends. I believe we were all created to need one another. Don’t suffer alone.
I felt like I had been given a new lease on life. You don’t know how much of yourself you lose until you find her again. I awoke to fall, and a new chance. I was so grateful the pages were turning.
But I also awoke 30 pounds heavier. When I look at the sum of the parts that this past year was made of, I think gaining only 30 pounds is actually pretty impressive. I have in the past gained far more in shorter periods of time. I am working on not being ashamed of myself. And writing this post today is part of that process for me. I started my weight loss journey with one thing in mind: I wanted to learn how to love myself from the inside out. And through that to learn about healthy living. The process was never about punishment. I committed to not punish myself to lose weight, and I refuse to punish myself upon gaining weight. My purpose remains clear.
I am not, however, prepared to coast at this weight any longer. I feel like I am ready to turn over a new leaf. I want to take everything I have learned, every gain and loss inside and out- and equipped with that knowledge I want to live today full of love for myself. I deserve to keep pressing on towards the goal I’ve been called to. All is not lost! The rewards of this year are many! And I am pushing back the resistance and turning the page.
What does all this mean? As the leaf is turning over, I have rededicated myself to the process of health. And I’d love for you to take the journey alongside me- as a reader, a cheerleader or a participant. Or all of those. I am now working out again consistently, 5-6 days a week. And I have brought my food plan back into check. I’m striving for one dessert a week (they are my BIG weakness), and I’m increasing my protein intake to help build muscle that can burn fat.
My first few days have been a success. I lost 3.6 pounds at my weigh-in this week. Don’t be fooled, this process is not at all about the numbers. Improved numbers are a fringe benefit to loving myself in a healthy way. I am however going to be divulging my numbers here, as a way to stay honest and accountable. As of this week, I have 26.4 pounds to lose to get back to my lowest point, and 45 pounds total to reach my ultimate goal weight, which is determined by my doctors and my healthy BMI.
It’s a humbling thing to know that I have been an inspiration to others in my weight loss journey. But I find perfection can be discouraging, and I want to be honest about who I am. This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever written and I’m terrified to put my weakness out there. I do not by any stretch of anyone’s imagination have things all figured out. I am just a girl, albeit a hopeful one, a courageous one who dares to live my life out loud. But at the end of the day, I’m just a human being like you. And I am nowhere near perfect.
I am so proud of myself for how far I’ve come, and I’m proud of each one of you who have started a journey to loving yourself as well. No matter where you are in your journey, I want you to know that you can do this. And like I always say, “A year from now you will wish you started today.” Don’t wait to put yourself on the list. You’re worth it.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Tonight I am amazed by my own capacity for insecure girl b.s. Is there a certain birthday or year or moment when we as women stop comparing ourselves to each other? If so, I wish someone would let me know when I can expect that to come to fruition in my personal life. Just when I think I’ve made these great strides towards loving myself, I get caught off guard only to find my thoughts reeling and spinning as my critical self goes on an emotional dialogue rampage.
Why is it so easy for women to be our own worst enemies? I had a pretty rough social upbringing. Very cut-throat and often hateful. And I’m the first to admit that I still bear the scars from my time growing up- I’ve got rejection issues coming out my yin-yang. But who doesn’t, right? We all have our middle school war stories. But you’d think all these years of therapy would have cured me by now… (I really hope my therapist reads that last sentence, as it was written entirely for his enjoyment.) And although I have done my fair share of growing up and getting over/through the pain of my past, it’s shocking how one night at a concert around a certain crowd of people can reduce me to age 13 faster than you can say “________________.” (Insert long hard-to-say word here that I can’t think of currently. ie: Supercalifragilisticexpealidocious, but not that one exactly.)
I am pretty sure that tonight I compared my body and fashion sense to that of a flock of pre-teens… And a smattering of high-schoolers…. and a sect of too-cool for school college kids… and top it off with a row of sloshed twenty-somethings. In two short hours I felt fat, old, ugly, frumpy, un-stylish, and without the right words. It was like I was transported to a year that starts with 198_. I was at a loss for one kind thing to think or say to myself. How sad.
I don’t have any great insights to tie this post up in a tidy package with a bow. But I am hollering out of my own deficit to all you other girls out there. We really need to be nicer to ourselves. This comparison shit is getting out of hand.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
For years certain people (Mom, you know who you are…) have been giving me grief about not posting journal entries more often on my website. I’d respond that I just didn’t have anything to say right then, which I know must seem surprising considering my loquacious nature. But as time went on, I realized that I did have things to say, I just didn’t always have the time or energy to compose my thoughts in a polished (read: perfect-ish) manner. Thus, when I decided to launch this blog, the naysayers looked askance at me, their non-verbal skepticism hollering “How are you ever going to keep up with a blog?”
In this way the blog is an extension of my inner-work. I move forward believing that I can let myself off the hook long enough to just write and share without always being under the microscope of my own harsh criticism. Being an artist who hopes to bring my authentic self to the stage with me every night has taught me much about risking the truth, risking the honest, raw, vulnerable places. Someone recently asked me why I do what I do as a performer, what makes me keep at it. “What else would I do?” always comes to mind. But my answer that day was this: I write and perform to connect with people. I do it to offer hope to some, to one, to speak of the mystery of our unique commonality as humans in a broken world, and extend the reassurance that none of us travel alone on this journey. We live in a web of myths and isolation. Not one of us is without fear, regret, questioning, and pain. But most of us believe we are the only one, and the cycle spins on. Hiding is easier than letting the walls crash down. Or at least that’s what we tell ourselves.
Today when I opened my laptop to write a blog on the way from Madison, WI to Chicago, I froze up. I was tempted to hide in silence. I didn’t think I had anything of note to say. And then I realized that even in my fear of not being polished and perfect and acceptable I could reach out, stand up, use my voice and just put something out there. Anything really. I could have typed out a knock-knock joke or “Woohoo McDonald’s!” the content wasn’t really of much consequence. It’s the fear-conquering action that counts today. The fact that I blogged even though I felt like I had nothing perfect or otherwise to say. I hope you do one thing today that scares you. Feel free to leave a comment and tell me about it when you do. You’re worth it. For that matter, so am I.
Monday, November 16, 2009
NERFA was a blast. We are, as expected, exhausted, but in the best possible way. We never know what will come from our efforts, but we’re assured they weren’t in vain. I especially enjoyed being a panelist on Saturday afternoon and sharing about my Become a Record Label Project (still going on, by the way…) and our approach to connecting with fans through social media.
On the heels of such a rich onslaught of music, I thought it might be fun to share some of my favorite contemporaries and new finds with you. They pretty much all fall into the “emerging” artists category, so chances are, you may not have encountered them before. I hope you discover someone you like among them, and support their music, too.
Jenee Halstead: Jenee and I are hatching a plan to tour together one day soon… Her sweet spirit and grit shine through her music. Well beyond her years in songwriting. She’s gutsy and delicate all at once, in all the right ways. This girl is going places.
Treasa Levasseur: Blown away. Jaw-dropped. Infectious. Can’t help but move you. The new generation of soul. Knocked me out of my seat. She’s the real deal. A must-hear or better yet, see her perform live.
Carla Ulbrich: I’d like to start by saying this isn’t normally “my thing.” I like songwriters with an achy bent (call it dark and twisty if you will…) But this self-proclaimed “Professional Smart-Aleck” had me laughing. I saw her by accident, but I’d call it a happy accident for sure. She’s witty and clever. A true comic songstress.
Joe Crookston: When David and I met Joe this summer at the Kerrville Folk Festival, it was love at first listen. More than that though, we found a friend in Joe. Rarely have I encountered a more genuine, generous soul. “Folk” has become a very broad definition, but Joe is cut from the finest fabric- I’d say he’s the most authentic troubadour of our generation. When he sings he draws you in, his music is an exercise in community and love. You can’t help but sing along and tap your foot.
Brad Yoder: Every once in a while, I meet an artist whose knowledge of music truly takes me back. Brad commands a complex musical landscape. To the trained ear, it’s obvious the discipline and attention to detail he applies to his craft. The more I work with him, the more respect I gain for his finely-honed skill-set. All of that being said, Brad has taken his songwriting to a new level in the last year or so. I shared a showcase in-the-round with him, and sat in on another set just to listen. Some of his new songs just reached in, gripped my heart and would not let go in the most beautiful way. His melodic and harmonic choices are lush, engaging and quite lovely. I can’t wait to hear what he comes up with next.
That’s it for now… we are almost to Cincinnati, Ohio where we have a few days off to spend with some dear fiends of mine from college. Have a good week!
Thursday, November 12, 2009
NERFA is a funny word. No I’m not talking about a squishy football approved for indoor play. NERFA is short for NorthEast Regional Folk Alliance, which is a mouthful- hence, the abbreviation. David and I attend multiple Folk Alliance conferences throughout the year. Today we are heading to Kerhonkson, NY to partake in 4 days and nights of music-making, networking, extreme sleep-deprivation, and oodles of just plain fun with our friends. We disguise this fun as business. This adventure is hitherto known as NERFA.
David is currently behind the wheel, and I am thinking about the weeks behind us and the weekend ahead. We are over the half-way mark of our month-long east coast tour, and I feel as though it’s been a success. As far as shows go, we’ve had awesome nights and some evenings that left something to be desired.. usually we desired more people to come and listen. Small crowds don’t stress me out, though. I think it’s all part of the journey. And I happen to believe, maybe naively, that the exact right people are in the seats every time we play. Not one person more or less was supposed to be there, or they would have been. Every now and then you get a dud in your box of firecrackers, but that doesn’t mean you cancel the 4th of July. Keep on keeping on, light another sparkler. Create your own lovely party in the air.
Allow me to illustrate this in another way. The first time I went to a Folk Alliance conference was in Kerrville, TX on Sept 6, 2001. I had no idea what I was doing. I walked up to the registration table and a woman- who would go on to become a dear friend, Dalis Allen- must have seen the deer in the headlights look in my eyes. She took me by the proverbial hand and walked me through getting checked in. Then she walked me into the exhibit hall where she introduced me to 3 wacky women from Australia, a group called Bluehouse. Dalis asked if the girls would hang out with me and if they had available slots in their showcase room schedule for me. They offered a resounding welcoming, “Yes!” And a friendship was formed.
See, among the plethora of things I did not know going into this conference is that artists are “supposed” to arrange for showcase opportunities ahead of time. And armed with these showcases, artists come to the conference with an arsenal of promotional materials with which to draw in audience members for said showcases. Posters, postcards, flyers, schwag of all kinds- including but not limited to buttons, pencils, keychains, homemade chex mix with artist’s photo and showcase schedule on the baggie, fancy things for conference goers to hang on their name-badges and affix to their lanyards. As I mentioned before, I had no idea what I was doing, much less “supposed” to be doing. So I came armed with nothing. Not one showcase, poster, postcard or flyer. Fancy schwag was out the furthest thing from my mind. I did have some copies of my 1st CD in the trunk of my car, just in case I met someone important.
To further explain the madness of a Folk Alliance conference, I must explain that there are different kinds of showcases. At this particular conference, there were “Official Showcases” and “Private Showcases.” Let’s start with Official. These showcases happen on a stage in a hotel ballroom, with sound and lights (the whole conference takes place in a hotel). They are much like any normal concert. The artists in these showcases applied months ahead of time to be chosen from a large pool of submitting acts. Official Showcase artists play a short set of 15-20 minutes of music for an audience of conference goers. No other conference activities compete with these shows. One artist is performing at a time.
Now, let’s move on to Private Showcases. In the hotel where a Folk Alliance conference is held, there are designated “music floors” and “non-music” or quiet floors. People who want to go to bed at a decent (read: 2 am-ish) hour, book a room on a quiet floor. That way you can, for the most part, ensure that you will not spend the whole night trying to drown out the impromptu old-time music jam in the adjacent room- 2 banjos, a guy playing spoons, 3 fiddles, a home-made washboard & an upright bass, 14 guitars, a pair of mandolins, and 9-part harmonies to boot. You’d be amazed how many folk musicians you can fit in one modern day hotel room. I digress… So that’s what the quiet floors are for.
The Private Showcases take place on the music floors, usually 3 of them all next to each other, like floors 17-19. Along the crowded hallways of the music floors, you will find hotel room doors standing open with beds either removed or pushed up against the wall. Folding chairs are often supplemented and voila, in the open space of a hotel room, you have a “stage”. The private showcases don’t start until after the conference’s main attraction, the official showcases, are over for the evening. The typical start time for a private showcase is 11 pm. At which point, the music floor hallways cram with folk musicians, and music lovers, and their instruments, as they all shuffle from room to room listening to music. These unplugged showcases occur simultaneously, so in essence, the artist could be competing with 10-35 other artists who are performing in the next room, down the hall, or on the next floor. It’s folk madness, really. I’ve done my best to explain it, but it’s one of those you-have-to-see-it-to-truly-understand-the-pandemonium sort of experiences. Like the running of the bulls, only far less people die.
So when I arrived in Kerrville in the late summer heat of 2001, I had no showcases, no flyers, again I emphasize: no clue. But the Bluehouse girls had decided last minute to host a private showcase room, and were happy to have me fill a slot each night. And so I played, my big Folk Alliance debut showcases, in a hotel room decorated with the Australian girls’ press photos scotch-taped to the walls alongside various undergarments strung above me like a clothesline. No, I’m not making the undies and bras part up. And in the audience as I played my heart out…. were the 3 Aussie girls themselves and no one else. It might be because I had no flyers to promote my newly given showcases, or maybe it was because I was so terrified of networking that I spent most of the conference stealing away to my hotel room where I would cry on the phone to David about how horrifying this whole business-networking thing was. Either way… I played to the Bluehouse girls.
To the naked eye, that whole conference might look like a bust, a waste. But that’s not how I see it. By the end of the first night, all 3 Bluehouse girls had separately invited me to join them as the opening act on their upcoming Australian national tour. Upon realizing that they were all in agreement about wanting me to tour with them, I started to seriously consider the idea. You might be thinking, what was there to consider? Well, they wanted me to come in 2 weeks and be there for more than a month. I had a day-job working for my Dad, and no plane-ticket.
I went home on Sunday and talked it through with my Dad, who agreed it was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. He offered to help with the airfare and by Monday night I was looking at flights which I planned to purchase the next day. Tuesday morning, September 11, was a day we all remember. I don’t need to explain how the world changed forever that day. All the plans for the trip stopped along with the world as we all kept vigil and watched and waited. What was next? What would tomorrow hold? Airports shut down and airfare skyrocketed, and I doubted the trip would happen. But as the dust settled on those first 2 weeks after the planes and towers came crashing down, airports opened and TV programming returned, and I with the blessing of my family boarded a plane across the Pacific, across the world, where I was welcomed like a refugee in wartime.
I spent 5 weeks touring the Eastern coast of Australia with my awesome hosts, Bluehouse. It was the trip of a lifetime and they are dear, dear friends to this day. Those friendships, born out of a happenstance introduction at a Folk Alliance conference, have spawned songs, many gigs and business relationships, and many more rich days of laughter and love.
And so it is, you never know who’s listening. The exact right number of seats are taken at every show. Can’t wait to see what adventures NERFA leads me to in the coming years.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Testing, testing. Check, check, one, two. Is this thing on? Oh, it is? Oh good…
Well, here it is. My official jump into the blogosphere. I’ve got my parachute and I’m ready to fly. And since you’re reading this, that means it’s not a total disaster. I’m blogging and someone is out there reading.
David and I are always looking for new ways to include all our amazing friends and fans in our touring experiences. If I can stay on top of posting, this will be a great place to check in on our adventures around the country. From video to show updates, and info about the upcoming release of “Orchid,” I will keep you in the know. For the most up-to-date info, consider subscribing to the blog’s RSS feed.
More than just coming to read, my sincere hope is that you will become part of a conversation and community of people connected through my music. I welcome your comments, and hope you will get to know some of the other amazing people who are vital members of the community that surrounds us. Talk to me, talk to David, talk amongst yourselves. Seriously, we’ll even talk back.
This is the first step in a total overhaul of the K.C. Clifford web experience. One of the major differences in this blog and my music website is sharability. (Yes, I just made that word up.) You’ll see at the bottom of every post, you have the ability to “Share” the posts over a wide variety of social networking platforms. I am humbled by the incredible support so many of you offer, and lots of folks have inquired about how you can help spread the word about my music to a wider audience. The “Share” feature on this blog is the #1 way to do that in cyberspace. Nothing could ever replace the value of an in-person invite from you to a friend, but the internet gives us an opportunity to go “viral” and reach heaps and heaps more potential listeners than ever before.
So, that’s it for now. I’ll post a tour update later. We play in Rockville, MD tonight.. we’re currently barreling our way down I-95 towards my least favorite highway experience in the country: The DC Beltway. Wish us luck, wish us patience, wish us no traffic. Yea, right…
