errinmarie dot com

You'll notice that the blog format looks different. That's because my web designer is trying to match it to my website, only Blogger's templates are a little bit tricky to work with. She's battling with the header and the sidebar. So the blog will be in flux over the next couple of days as we struggle to make it progressively cooler.

However, the website is just about done! There will continue to be the odd change or two, and the media page is going to undergo a revamp, but for the most part www.errinmarie.com is complete! Check it out!

I've been excited about my website for so long, and now that it's actually live I feel strangely hesitant about making the announcement. I'm trying to figure out why that is.

It started as just a small idea. "You need a website," my web designer said to me awhile back. I shrugged.

"I don't really have any content," I said. "I'm not sure what I'd put on a website."

"Well, just a page, then," she persisted. "With your contact info at least. You need some kind of web presence so people can find you and then hire you and make you famous."

"That does sound good," I agreed.

And that's all it was supposed to be. But as time passed the web page grew into a website, and the website grew into an awesome website, and then the awesome website threatened to overshadow my meager message.

"I need content," implored my web designer and I wrung my hands in distress.

"Yeah, I told you, I don't have much of that," I said.

"Can you give me something?" she begged. "Anything."

So I wrote. I used text to fill up the holes where my music should be. I scripted a bio page the length of Moby Dick. I concocted wordy blog posts to divert your attention from the fact that I don't have any recordings, or upcoming performances, or, um, plans.

And as the website matured in its cocoon of ever-growing awesomeness, its reputation preceding it by miles ("Yes, my website is coming soon! Stay tuned!"), I've awaited its birth with unease. Because when that site goes live, I know I'm going to have to deal with a whole new level of expectation. You know what I'm talking about. The dreaded: "Now what?"

For it is not enough to simply announce yourself to the world. Oh, you can throw your arms wide and declare, "Hey world, here I am!" But the world will merely glance at you over its morning coffee and go back to surfing the internet for stupid pet tricks. No, you've got to have something more to grab the world's attention. You have to do something.

For the moment, I'm just going to do this:

Look at me! from Errin M on Vimeo.

I hope it's enough.

A Tribute to Rev

Last night I attended a tribute concert for the late Ron Stallings, a much loved Bay Area musician, who died two weeks ago today.

I knew Ron through Glide. A year or more ago, he was a temporary regular with the Glide musicians, known as the Change Band. Ron sat in on the sax.

Ron was there the day I first sang Smile Again. Filled with nerves after a horrendous rehearsal, I was shocked and delighted to deliver a rousing performance. It was one of those moments that you dream about, where everything goes right and that thunderous applause lifts you right out of your shoes. Afterward, he came up and shook my hand. "You're very talented," he said.

I didn't know who he was, beyond the pinch-hitter sax player. I didn't know he'd played with the Temptations, the Dells, the Four Tops, Gladys Knight, Boz Scaggs, Louis Bellson and Huey Lewis and The News, just to name a few. I didn't know that he was a saxophonist, flutist, composer and singer, or that he'd played all around the world. I just thought he was very kind to say that to me.

My first inkling that he was ill came one day during Sunday service. The sopranos stand next to the band and I was on the end, closest to the horns. Ron kept sitting down on the edge of the risers, sometimes while the rest of the band was playing. I leaned over and asked if he was all right. Did he need a chair? Some water? He assured me that he was fine, but he spent more time sitting than standing that day. Shortly afterward Ron left the band.

I ran into him several months later at the local farmers market. He was surprised that I remembered him. "Of course I remember you," I said. "When are you coming back to Glide?"

"Oh, one of these days, I expect," he said, smiling. "You keep on singing."

That was the last time I saw him.

Last night's tribute concert was packed to bursting with folks who came out to pay their respects. The music was fantastic, but I was mostly touched by the standing-room-only crowd, the line of people who waited outside through intermission, still hoping to make it in.

"What a life," I said to Monte. "Look how many people he touched."

Certainly I didn't know him well, but I will always remember the kind words he spoke to me on an important day in my life. This is my small tribute to him.

A Tribute to Rev from Errin M on Vimeo.

Roman cavalry choirs are singing

A friend posted this on Facebook yesterday and I've been captivated by it ever since. I must have watched this video a dozen times already.

Look at their faces! Watch their body language! My high school choir conductor would have given anything to have us emote like that, but I guess by high school we've got too many reservations for raw emotion.

This is the PS22 Chorus. I found their blog and learned that they've got dozens of videos and count several famous folks among their fans, including Tori Amos and Coldplay, whose songs they've performed. (And here I was, ready to hunt down Chris Martin and make him watch this video. Ha.)

What gets me the most is the beautiful simplicity. It's just a bunch of kids sitting in their school auditorium, a guy on guitar and a hand-held video camera. It doesn't need anything to jazz it up. Everything we need to see is right there in their faces. I am so moved by what this music teacher is doing; I almost feel like he's teaching us more than he's teaching the kids.

Kids need music. They need art. They need sports. They need the kinds of things that bring expressions like that to their faces. In fact, we ALL need the kinds of things that bring expressions like that to our faces. I wish that every superintendent of schools would watch that video before making budget cuts. These programs are lifelines for a lot of kids. Music was certainly a lifeline for me, and were it not for my high school choir conductor, I don't know who I'd be today.

This video reminds me that it doesn't take much to start a revolution. You can start a revolution with a guitar.

Easter

Yesterday we were driving to church for the sunrise service. Which sounds lovely, until you factor in the 4:15 AM wake-up call.

So it was still dark, because it was essentially the middle of the night, and I pointed out the window toward the full moon. "Lookit the moon," I mumbled, sleepily.

"Uh huh," Monte replied, slightly less sleepily (I hope), because he was driving. "It's a Jesus moon."

"Huh?" I said, confused.

"A Jesus moon. The moon they used to find Jesus."

I paused. "The moon who used to find Jesus?"

"You know, those guys. They followed the moon to find him."

I took this in. "Are you talking about the wise men?" I finally asked.

"Yeah," he said, "those guys."

I whooped. "You mean the three wise men who followed the star to Bethlehem at Christmas?"

Now Monte was silent. Processing. A moment later he said decisively: "Yes."

I laughed myself wide awake. "You need to go to church more," I wheezed, wiping tears of mirth from my eyes.

That's mirth, not myrrh.


Here's a little taste of Easter morning at Glide. Have you ever seen a church so thoroughly rocking?

Easter Sunday at Glide from e marie on Vimeo.

I. Will. Let. You. Know.

You know what question never gets old?

"When are you getting married?"

Seriously. I just never get tired of answering that one.

We visited Monte's family this weekend.

Thanks, Universe

I think that call out to the Universe might be working, because I am suddenly very busy.

I'll give you a short account of my week.

Last Friday I recorded background vocals for a nice fellow named Jon, whom I found on Craigslist. Actually, he found me on Craigslist. I had posted an ad for free studio work in hopes of getting some recording experience and he took me up on my offer. Except he paid me, which was way better. Either he don't read too good or he's just really nice.

He promised me a low-pressure, home studio environment and he didn't lie - we were working in a spare bedroom. But he had good equipment and gave good direction, and we made good progress. We got through 2 songs that first day, and he asked if I could come back the following week.

On Sunday I gigged with Vernon at the Bazaar Cafe. We drew a nice little crowd for a Sunday night, and our Glide buddies sat right up front. Vernon and I had been talking about songwriting together, and we planned a session for later that week.

I spent Monday trying to pin down lyrics for this new song that's been floating in my head. I finally nailed down a bridge and a chorus, but the melody wouldn't come to me. I was hoping that Vernon could help me with that; we'd discussed how lyrics come easily to me, but I struggle with music, and he's the opposite. I was looking forward to putting our heads together on this tune.

I also spent some time emailing with my friend Pete about another song I had written the week before. Pete is putting scratch instrumentals behind my lyrics to create a demo track. It's a pretty high-tech method of creation, this back-and-forth emailing, but it's an interesting process. We send each other mp3's of the tune in various stages, and slowly it's coming together.

On Tuesday I went into the recording studio with Leah, to watch an overdub session. Leah is in the early finishing stages of her second album and she was gracious enough to allow me to sit in on a session. She'd already recorded the tracks, but in the overdubbing process she re-recorded certain phrases that didn't sound right. She had a long list of notes that indicated specific places where she wanted to make changes, and she'd dart in and out of the booth to re-sing a piece of a line here and there. It was pretty fascinating. I was surprised to learn that you could re-record just a snippet of a phrase and tuck it neatly into a song. There were some places where she just sang one or two words, but when the sound engineer pieced it together you couldn't tell at all.

It was a much different experience from my session with Jon the week before, but I marveled at the similarities. Session work quickly grows tedious, and there comes a point where you can give yourself too many choices and be overwhelmed by the possibilities. For instance, Jon had me record one line with 3 different rhythms and then 4 different melodies. After these 12 takes we realized that I'd been singing a wrong word - and so we had to do it all over again. We'd been working for 3 hours, we were getting hungry and tired, and suddenly we had to choose the best of 24 takes - except we kept getting them confused. It's like building a quilt in your head, I thought.

I saw the same thing happen with Leah. "Wait, which one we did we like before?" she asked, after re-recording the same snippet multiple times. It was a really valuable experience to be in the studio with her, especially combined with my recent experience with Jon, and I felt like I learned an awful lot this week. I realized that a half-day recording session is probably my max, and that I should record early in the day when I'm feeling fresh. That's the kind of lesson you like to learn before you shell out your own money for studio time.

On Tuesday night I had my final sewing class where I completed my first-ever skirt! It's delightfully cute and I may just wear it on Easter. Now I can't stop thinking about my next sewing project, and when I am done with this blog post I'm off to the sewing store.

Late on Tuesday night I checked my email to find that Vernon had sent me a track for our session the next day. I wrote back to him: Just got your email; probably won't have time to work on this before I see you tomorrow.

But then I stayed up till 3 AM, writing lyrics for the tune.

It was a great exercise, but I'm not sure how he felt about the lyrics. I'd taken the song in a much different direction than his original intention. "That's great though," he said. "I didn't give you instructions on purpose; I wanted to see where you went with it." I'm not entirely sure that he liked where I went with it, but I decided that I liked it, and that was good enough for the moment.

We also worked on my tune, the one with scant lyrics and no melody. I sang him the pieces of the song as I heard it, and he asked me questions about the format and the message. I could see his fingers flexing, as though he already knew the chords he wanted to play. I'm excited to hear what he comes up with when we meet again next week.

I never did get a nap on Wednesday and I rolled into choir rehearsal feeling tired but happy. I slept really well that night. The next morning I headed off for another recording session with Jon. This time we whipped through the material, and actually recorded an extra song. "These tunes are really coming together," I told him. "I can't wait to get my copy of your album."

And now it's Friday. I'm taking a quick breather before next week hits. Today I've got to work on song notes for Pete and edit some video footage. Tomorrow it's 10 miles around the lake, training for the upcoming marathon. On Monday my songwriting class begins, and on Tuesday I've got my first meeting with a Women's' Writers group. Then on Wednesday it's another session with Vernon, then choir rehearsal, 17 miles on Saturday and then 3 church services on Easter Sunday!

I saw my friend Simon a few days ago. He'd just returned from a 2 month silent retreat. He was a bit overwhelmed to be back in the urban world.

"You look so different," he told me. "What's going on with you?"

"You mean the tan?" I asked. People keep asking me where I've been on vacation, but it's just from running outside that I'm turning so brown.

"Well, yes, the tan, but mostly your aura is different. What's changed?"

I forget that Simon has a sixth sense. I think most of us are inclined to raise an eyebrow when someone begins talking about visible auras, but Simon is so understated, you realize quite quickly that he's not showing off. He is intuitive right up to the edge of psychic ability, and he has astonished me several times with the things that he knows without being told. The fact that he was able to sense a new purpose about me made me feel like I was on the right track.

You know, you just can't go wrong by asking the Universe for help. I highly recommend it.