Words and Guitar

I want it.

Years ago, I was leaving a show at a record store and a friend asked why I was bailing early. I shrugged.

“I like it when people play guitar and sing about their feelings.”

The show had started with an acoustic punk act, an angsty singer crashing their right hand across the strings of a guitar, bellowing about sadness into a mic. I was into it. The second act had a tower of keyboards and no microphone. They set about making interesting noises. People who enjoy interesting noises were very into it. But I politely made my way to the door, offering the guitar-and-feelings* explanation to my friend on the way out.

One truth I’ve learned from my years of music fandom is that there is no “good taste” or “bad taste” there is only “my taste” or “your taste”. I’ve been talked down to many times by people (Men. Not all men. But always men.) about the music I liked and it took me years to realize that it’s all a crock. Just because something is popular doesn’t mean it’s good or bad. Everyone gets to make up their own mind. And I’ve always known what I like. It just took a long time for me to not feel like I had to defend it. And to learn, I’ll admit, that hating Coldplay doesn’t make me a better or cooler person.

A few weeks ago, my friend Jessica asked if I wanted to go to the Osheaga music festival with her this summer. She was considering flying down from Thunder Bay for it and cited Sleater Kinney, Chapel Roan, and Renee Rapp as the attractive acts on the bill. I immediately had to say no, due to some parenting commitments, but I also said that it really wasn’t the line up for me. Sure, I love Sleater Kinney, but none of the other acts she mentioned really drew me in. I found myself offering the same reasoning: I still mostly just like it when people play guitar and sing about their feelings. But it doesn’t always have to be guitar. Piano is good. I’ve been known to enjoy a lament accompanied by a ukelele too. Guitar and feelings is less a law, more of a vibe.

It’s the constant thread that’s run through my musical taste since I was a kid. Sure there are exceptions to the rule, but the broad strokes of my music collection are generally in the guitar and feelings vein. The folk music I grew up with and still love? Guitar and feelings. The indie bands and Canadian rock I loved in high school? Guitar and feelings. The riot grrrl and classic punk that I spent my 20s and 30s obsessed with? More guitars, more feelings. And now? Now I’m usually listening to William Prince, Kacey Musgraves, Martha, Joni Mitchell, or John Prine. Guitar guitar guitar. Feelings feelings feelings.

I guess I’d chalk it up to the attraction that obvious earnestness holds for me. I know that sincere feelings are communicable without six strings and sad lyrics, but the connection doesn’t get to me the same way.

My eldest kid and I watch American Idol every season, and my favourite parts are the auditions, when people come in and sing with sparse instrumentation. Lots of ballads, lots of feelings. As the show progresses, there is so much more artifice. The pool of contestants is winnowed down each week, and the presence of contouring, hair extensions, elaborate lighting, and complex musical arrangements grows.

However, amidst all that, there are moments that really ring true. For example, finalist Emmy Russell. Russell’s story as a contestant on the show has two main arcs. One, her quest to get over her pervasive shyness and extreme lack of confidence. Both the judges and the audience have been rooting for her as she attempts to fake it until she does actually make it. But the other arc is more unique- Russell’s grandmother happens to have been Loretta Lynn. Russell’s mother, Patsy Lynn Russell is the child who Lynn named after her best friend, Patsy freaking Cline. With that kind of pedigree, it could be argued that Russell does not need to be in a televised singing competition at all, but her battles with confidence and stage presence keep the audience on her side. She’s also a good singer and an earnest performer. And at no point was that more clear and more heart wrenching than on the show a few weeks ago when Russell chose to sing her grandmother’s signature song, Coal Miner’s Daughter as her main performance of the night. I know it’s a cliche to say there wasn’t a dry eye in the place, but in this case that seems to be accurate. The performance cut through the artifice and capitalism and questionable American public voting choices and rose above it all, just a granddaughter singing her grandmother’s words about an upbringing that feels like it was more than two generations away. It was special.

She played piano to accompany herself, but to me it embodied the spirit of guitars and feelings all the way.

(Photos from top to bottom - Emmylou Harris and Linda Ronstadt, Sleater Kinney, Martha)

*This is not actually why this newsletter is called Songs That Remind You of Feelings. The newsletter title can be attributed to my friend Bryan, an American, who did not get the appeal of CBC public radio. “Every time I turn it on it’s like and now another hour of songs that remind you of feelings…”

May 2024 Songs

My friend Margot mentioned William Prince to me a while ago and I had to admit to myself that when I’d first seen him mentioned I thought that was just the name Will Oldham was going by these days. I am ridiculous. Anyway, William Prince is a whole different person who is guitar and feelings all the way. I can not stop listening to When You Miss Someone and Tanqueray.

I one hundred percent should not be thinking about starting a new book right now because I have a first draft manuscript to edit as well as an upcoming actual finished real book to promote, but I can’t resist letting my mind wander through a new story, with a soundtrack of folk/country/rock love songs both new and old, like Subversives, by Lowest of the Low which has never lost it’s ability to squeeze my heart when I hear it.

I have a love-hate relationship with American Idol for a number of reasons, but one of the key issues I have with it is that the winner is determined by weeks of votes from the public. And the public, at least the public who watch the show and vote, tend to love perfectly serviceable but slightly bland white guy country singers. Last year though, the winner was Iam Tongi, who was from Hawai’i and was a joy to watch throughout the competition. The winners these days don’t enjoy Kelly Clarkson level instant fame anymore, but he seems to be doing well, regardless. His very cute song “Why Kiki” is now a favourite in our house. A good dancing-while-doing-chores-with-your-kids track.

May 2024 Feelings

I’ll admit I read Nita Prose’s books (The Mystery Guest and The Maid) in the wrong order. I hadn’t yet read The Maid when I was asked to host a panel that featured Prose at the Ottawa Writer’s Festival earlier this month, and she was coming to promote her second book, The Mystery Guest. So I dove into that first, and then went backwards and read The Maid second. I loved both, even though I think I shrieked “MOLLY, NO!” several times per book. When I interviewed Prose I asked her why she wanted to write mysteries and she said she had actually started with a focus on the character of Molly and then realized that the best place for Molly was in a mystery novel. Which makes so much sense if you’ve read these books because Molly’s character is the guiding force in both of them.

Abby Jimenez is a long time favourite of mine, and this latest one, Just For the Summer is one of her best books. I was riveted and I loved the way she tied in bits from the other two books in his series (both of which I also loved). Romance novels like this one make me want to be a better romance author which is one of the highest kinds of praise I could give a book. This is a long one (400-ish pages) but it flew by and I absolutely understand why it’s been on bestseller lists since it came out. Jimenez deserves all the accolades and success she is getting.

Thanks for reading! See you next month.

J.W.

Instagram : @JenniferWhitefordWrites

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