LOVE IT

I asked Mr. Dovercourt if I could write a little piece for Wavelength, because I love the spirit of the thing. It feels liberating to read the reviews, the perspectives on the ups and downs of performance. All the world of, and the nervous energy contained in, the whole creative flow from impulse, response (or is response before impulse?), scratching down a lyric, fumbling around on strings, or whatever, seems to be lurking in the pages. More than that, reading Wavelength seems to intimate an invitation.

I've been an Anglican priest for about 20 years now, working in parishes mostly. Before that I was a full-time musician for about four years, playing bars, pubs, malls and motels in England and the Maritimes (where I'm from). I'm still playing as much as I can.

I remember playing in a rough kind of bar/lounge place in Newfoundland one Christmas season. I was in a duo playing predictable bar schlock downstairs, while a really bad band from Cape Breton was playing the big bar upstairs. I met a sweet girl early in the evening and later that night the band from upstairs gang raped her while she was unconscious. Later that same morning, a mentally challenged guy was plinking away on the piano in the corner. Some soulfully challenged guy got up, yelled at the piano player and physically threw him out into the street. This is of course dark stuff. But this little vignette from years ago let me know that there are many reasons for being involved in playing music for a living or, for that matter, for playing music at all -- and sometimes these reasons reasons are dark or ignoble - or abusive. Why was the guy plinking away at the piano? Why were these criminals in the upstairs bar in a band? What was I doing there?

Another time I was playing in the east end of London in a neat little pub. I had billed myself as a Canadian country and western singer. I wore a big white cowboy hat and I played a good variety of what I considered classic tunes on my old Martin D-35 12-string. One night an unbelievably good street accordion player, making the rounds, came in, stood in front of me and got the whole pub singing great east end songs. I quietly unplugged my paltry set up and slinked out into the night feeling foolish in a big white hat. What was I doing there?

Another time, in the middle of my set, the publican came over and shouted in my ear, "You see those people over there (pointing to a table full of folks dressed in an outlandish parody of American cowboy costumes - much like me),they know country and western music and they think you are shit... and so do I, so get the fuck out." What was I doing there?

I could go on. But you get the gist maybe... What makes us willing to risk and sometimes endure humiliation, or the witness of criminal acts, by hanging around the playing and creation of music?

When I read Wavelength, I got a sense of the joy and adventure of music making that just doesn't quit. Making music is one path into the real life of the soul. It can be a dark experience and it can be an experience of light. The process of making music can be a way to measure the worth of life.

I won't turn this writing into a sermon about anything. I only wanted to respond to the purity of the pulse of Wavelength. There is something simple, something alive and real in here that I want to be a part of. Because, after ghastly experiences in the music world, you need to be reminded that the music doesn't stop after you've stopped making it. It goes on in the life of the world around you. The creation and pursuit of music is noble, and the community that arises out of the music can be a grace to all. And we need tons of that.

I'm 51 now. I've been playing and writing songs since I was 13 or so. I'm in a great band right now and I'm not going to quit. So thanks to Wavelength for encouraging that. And thanks to all you readers and players for pursuing that sound that only you can hear before it makes it to the air we all breathe.

MAX WOOLAVER IS THE PARISH PRIEST OF ST. GEORGE THE MARTYR CHURCH (HOME OF THE MUSIC GALLERY). HIS BAND IS THE DIGBY RAVENS. TO CONTRIBUTE TO THE WAY I SEE IT, EMAIL JONNY@WAVELENGTHTORONTO.COM.