Hey Hartlist,
It was a dark and stormy night (really) in Galway, Ireland when I first heard the expression “noble call”.
Loosely translated, it means “it’s your turn to sing now.”
LET’S TRY THIS: A WINTER SOLSTICE HOUSE CONCERT
When: December 21st 2023, early evening probably
Where: My Place!
Who: A Limited Audience! (see ‘Where’)
** Respond to this email with interest & I will send either details or a consolation prize**
Bring: a song (OR story/joke/poem/whatever) of your own! Theme: Winter.
FROM THE CHRYSALIS
There are times in life where you just have to follow your instincts. As Miracle on 34th street put it, “Faith is believing in something when common sense tells you not to”. On the one hand, this definition falls apart immediately upon inspection, but on the other hand it’s the movie I just watched last night. Probably a more appropriate quotation here is “If you build it, they will come”… but Field of Dreams doesn’t take place during Christmas. Then again, neither does the Winter Solstice.
Are you guys still here?
…
I’ve been told a sad story about my childhood more than once that goes something like “one year we had a birthday party for you and nobody came.” I have absolutely no memory of this happening (which must mean it didn’t affect me at all… right??) but for a long time just fully accepted this story and its implications whole cloth. It wasn’t til well into I’m gonna say last year? that it occurred to me that if this happened as described - especially considering the number of delightful birthday parties I had as a kid overall - the reality was far more likely to have been something like ‘someone forgot to mail invitations’ than ‘22 sets of parents all decided not to send their kid but also not to RSVP or say anything about it before or after.’ What I mean is, it probably wasn’t personal. Still , I guess I didn’t know that then. And as a writer and constant self-examiner, it’s tempting to link this experience to my lifelong dread of promotion, publicizing, inviting, or saying I am hosting anything … a dread that exists alongside the fact that I love performing, sharing, socializing, and having a good time with other people.
Here’s another quotation, one that’s been flitting around the Internet this week ascribed to no one (that I know of! Feel free to correct me!):
"You think you're an introvert because you like being alone, but in reality you just love being at peace, and you're actually extroverted around people who bring you peace."
Like all popular things on the Internet this of course attracted a tidal wave of WELL I DON’T THINK and WHAT ABOUT and WELL ACTUALLY (which, as long as we’re self-analyzing here, is probably another reason I dread self-promotion). I have no idea if it’s ‘accurate’, or exactly applies to me. Still, it did make me go ‘hm’.
***
One of the places in my life I’ve felt most at peace around people - and therefore, most like myself - has been Ireland. (Brief recap in case we’ve never met: Ireland is big in my life and I talk about my time spent there perhaps sometimes more than necessary.) For a short while I traveled around that country playing music and while it certainly took work to set up the tours and to play them I don’t ever remember a feeling of effort or struggle to “promote” per se. I didn’t really invite people… they were just always there. I’ve always attributed this to two things. One was that it seemed like in Ireland an unknown performer was ‘innocent til proven guilty’, (ie “maybe good” instead of “probably bad”) while in America it was the opposite. Two: it seemed like, in Ireland, people going to the pub for the evening were … going to the pub for the evening. They weren’t also doing four other things, so what time do you actually go on and how long is the set or I got to see your last song it was great sorry I had to run!
Of course, this was a long time ago. Now it’s more like people - myself included - have to be convinced to leave their house at all. And as always, I might be talking about “America” when in fact I mean “New York”. Fair enough. Years ago - probably around the time of the story I’m eventually going to tell you - I went to a going-away party in NYC for the first person I knew personally to give up move to another state. When I asked him why he was leaving, he said “Because I’d like to be able to call my friends up to make plans, and then actually see them.” As I nodded slowly, absorbing, he added, “Like - the same day.”
Anyway, it was a dark and stormy night in Galway, and I have no idea whose apartment it was, except that it didn’t belong to any of the four of us - me, my sister, and the two guys - who were there. I was on tour, doing my solo show and some gigs, my sister was visiting me, and the two guys were the literary manager of the theatre semi-producing my show and a long ago ex boyfriend of mine who happened to be performing comedy in Galway that week also. (Why were we ALL staying there? Oh well.) And it was dark outside and raining buckets and there was nothing to do (I believe there was no TV) and the four of us sat in a circle on the floor (for some reason, there WERE chairs) with (of course) a bottle of whiskey (I’m just setting the scene) and at some point between rolls of thunder Tom said “I have a noble call for Rebecca".
Here, I googled it for you:
the Noble Call, an old Irish tradition whereby after a performance, usually of music, the audience are invited to respond through word, song or poetry.
I think on the night in question it was explained to me as “it’s late at night in the bar and someone asks you to sing and you have to sing”. So I got my guitar and sang, and it could have turned into a house concert, which I would have loved and always have.
(I want to play a lot of house concerts right now- where are you all? Book me)
But what happened was arguably better… or at least a new kind of great. When I was done, his next proposal was: “ok, we’ll go around and each person has to tell a story, tell a joke, or sing a song.” And that is what we did for the next couple of hours, and it has gone down in my memory as one of the best nights of socializing I’ve ever had. It didn’t seem particularly revelatory to the two natives in our midst, but it was to me. I remember telling someone about it and saying “At home, we would have all just like showed each other youtube clips for four hours”. And, like many things I’ve discovered in life to be incredibly joyful and beneficial and satisfying (choral singing, meditation, exercise), I promptly never did it again for many years.
And since this is a year in which I seem to be turning that trend around (I joined a choir - watch our concert here on 12/16! - I lift weights twice a week, and I am going to meditate AS SOON as I send this out I swear)… I offer you this invitation.
Friends, I love this whole magical glittering darkening chilled frenzy known as ‘the holidays’. I am a big fan of this time of the year. And I always mark the Winter’s Solstice - the longest night, the celebration of light - in some way, usually by playing a show. This year, the thought of booking a venue and promoting it and selling tickets and filling seats gives me hives. But the idea of ‘word, song, or poetry’ gives me joy.
So, let’s do it. 12/21/23, first come first seat, priority given to those willing to bring a brief song/joke/poem/text/story on the theme of winter, or light, or darkness. We’ll play for a bit then open the floor to you. (Nonperformers welcome but you have to bring snacks.) Because why not. I’ve learned that if no one responds it isn’t personal but I’ve also learned that if I want something to happen it’s worth sending up a flare. Over to you.
It’s your Noble Call.
xo and happy hanukkah,
Rebecca