This is a story about rewards. Sort of. I’m not sure how to tell it, so I’ll just start at the beginning.
A little over a year ago I met Britt Miller – comm professional, digital native, and visual artist. Once Britt learned about my blogging she egged me into using Twitter. The rest, as we are accustomed to saying, is history.
It’s frigging crazy-ass history, actually. Playing streaming concerts, jumping out of planes, accepting awards, attending conferences in NYC – all of that borne out of Britt’s pestering me to get to know Twitter.The two of us now share a “Fame 2010” plan of promoting and improving our respective arts all year. Last April, before all of that happened, Britt mentioned she was showing her art at the first ever “Earth Saturday” block party on South Street – an eco-friendly festival thrown by Big Green Earth Store and Whole Foods.
It was my first solo appearance in a long while, and it surprised me – even in the limitless space of an outdoor gig my songs felt big and sure, with just a few stumbles. It wound up being a major force in getting me into shape for playing and recording more than ever in the rest of 2009.
This past Saturday was the second Earth Saturday block party, again at 9th and South, and again featuring art from both Britt and I. My set felt even bigger and surer this year, and Britt had a table of beautiful prints of her art – major Fame 2010 success!
Britt is always pulling hilarious quotes of mine out of thin air, and before my set she had a great one. We were chatting with some twitter friends about my songwriting, and I made my usual disclaimer that it’s taken me a long time and a lot of work to get to where I am now – from being forbidden to sing in my high school halls to playing sets at eco-festivals. And, Britt said:
Peter, you said this awesome thing once. I heard someone tell you that you were a great singer, and you said, “Thank you. I’ve worked for thirteen years to hear that compliment.”
I don’t even remember saying that, but it’s indelibly me. To hear someone compliment me on my voice or my songs strikes me with awe – awe at what I’m hearing, and awe that nearly half a life of effort means I’m able to play music that people enjoy.
I wish I could take that feeling and transport it back to 15-year-old me, plucking out the strains of “Dilate” on his first guitar almost this very day in 1997.
Failing that, I’m sharing it with you. I hope you have something in your life that makes you as happy as my music makes me, and Britt’s paintings make her – especially when someone else stops to appreciate them.