ThinkSong

SalsaAlexa @ Club Anton, Oakland, Friday, June 19!

2009-06-12T16:01:00.000-07:00

She's sold out Yoshi's, Jazz at Pearl's and sizzled at the San Jose Jazz Festival. Now the Alexa Weber Morales Band brings you danceable salsa, son, cha-cha and a few funky surprises at the swanky Club Anton in Oakland's beautiful Jack London Square. The lovely Zareen joins on vocals! Grammy nominee Omar Ledezma on percussion, Murray Low on piano, David Pinto on bass, Miguelito Martinez on flute/vocals and Brian Andres on traps!

DJ Mambo spins nonstop hits before the show and between sets. Don't miss this chance to DANCE!!!!

Tickets are $15, $10 BEFORE 10 PM if you RSVP! Get on the guestlist! RSVP on Facebook, or contact Alexa by emailing song [at] alexawebermorales.com.

SalsAlexa
One night of danceable originals and salsa by the Alexa Weber Morales Band
Hits by DJ Mambo
Friday, June 19, 10 PM - 1:30 AM
Club Anton
428 Third St. @ Broadway
Oakland, CA
510-463-0165

ABOUT THE ALEXA WEBER MORALES BAND

Murray Low is a 30-year veteran pianist on the Bay Area jazz scene. Though he is a tireless performer, recording artist, and arranger, he is best known for his work with Pete Escovedo (since 1994); Grammy-nominated John Santos and the Machete Ensemble (since 2000); and Andy Narell, the pioneering steel pan player. His multifaceted career has also included international performances with Tito Puente, Bob Mintzer, Sheila E, Benny Golson, John Patitucci, George Duke, and many others.

Born in Caracas, Venezuela, 2008 Grammy-nominated Omar Ledezma, Jr. has been taking the Bay Area by storm with his percussion-vocals skills and his professionalism. After graduating at one of the most prestigious law schools in Caracas, Omar packed one bag and one drum to begin his move to Boston while making a passionate commitment to study at Berklee College of Music. There he collaborated and toured with renowned artists in the US, Europe, Caribbean and South America. He has participated in more than 20 recordings and projects including CDs, DVDs and books.

David Pinto is a Peruvian native probably best-known for his work as musical director, arranger and bassist with Grammy-winner Susana Baca, champion of Afro-Peruvian song. Other credits include Olga Guillot, Alex Acuña and Bay Area band leaders Edgardo Cambón and producer Wayne Wallace. He has played more than 800 festivals around the world.

Vocalist Zareen grew up in a small town outside of Boston. She has studied with Madeline Eastman, Kurt Elling, and Raz Kennedy; writes her own songs; and has recently released an album of original trip-hop tunes. Her repertoire also includes Brazilian, Afro-Cuban, and Latin American music. Zareen has performed all over the Bay Area, with several different bands including Los Boleros, Simply Jazz, and the Befores, but she especially values her performances with her third-grade students.

Miguel Martinez studied Music Education at the University of Art and Sciences in his native Chiapas, Mexico, and classical flute at the University of Veracruz. In 2001, Miguel traveled to Cuba to study under René Beltrán and Freddy Martines. Miguel recently received a certificate of recognition for his invaluable contribution to the flourishing of son montuno in Mexico. Miguel is new to the Bay Area, but he has played and recording with Anthony Blea,Karl Perazzo, John Calloway, Jesus Diaz, Michael Spiro, Orestes Vilato, Alfredo de la Fe. He is member of Conjunto Karabali and Tito y Su Son de Cuba.

Born in Cincinnati, Ohio into a family of professional musicians, it is no surprise that drummer Brian Andres found himself drawn to the origin of all music: Rhythm. While living in the Midwest, Brian’s diverse range of styles led him to performances with Rock and Roll Hall of Fame members Little Anthony and the Imperials, as well as Tony Award winner and Broadway star, Faith Prince. Brian has also shared the stage with such artists as Leroy "Sugar" Bonner from The Ohio Players, blues greats Sam Myers and Lonnie Mack and television and movie star, Woody Harrelson. Brian's growing interest in Latin music and culture brought him to the San Francisco Bay Area in early 1999. He quickly began working with numerous local Salsa, Afro-Cuban, Latin funk, Latin jazz, and Tex-Mex groups. In 2007, after spending his career as a sideman, Brian stepped into the role as bandleader. The San Francisco Bay Area was introduced to The Afro Cuban Jazz Cartel.

How Alexa Got Her Schmooze Back, Part One

2009-06-09T17:42:00.000-07:00

This past weekend was very impressive, for me. Friday night I hit three clubs in San Francisco and Saturday I both performed with my Cuban rueda (circular salsa dance) class and went out to Roccapulco in the Mission. Sunday I hit the kid soccer circuit and networked with all the hippest 3- to 8-year-olds in the pool.

It all started at a joint in the Financial District, Cafe Claude, that has been hiring jazz trios and quartets for over a decade. In fact, Marcus Shelby, the debonair bassist who was playing there that night, told me he's played there 14 years -- back in the days when he still drank and smoked and partied. I sat at the bar and listened to Marcus and a guitarist whose name escapes me as they played in the corner. The food was delicious -- well, all I had was chocolate mousse, but it was great.

An English chap sat next to me at the bar, reading a book in Italian. After a while I started talking to him. Apparently he was into early music -- from before the Renaissance, folks like Josquin. He said something I made immediate mental note of, which was that some music is wonderful to hear, and some is more wonderful to perform than to hear. I think that sums up my relationship to classical music and more esoteric jazz. The challenge of learning and performing difficult music makes it enjoyable, but if you were to ask me to sit and listen to Baroque music I quickly lose interest if I'm not participating. Eventually I talked him into buying my CD. Thanks Dave!

On the break I schmoozed a bit with Marcus and the guitarist. I did a terrible job of it. My attempts at self-deprecation merely sounded lame, like I was possibly the most unsuccessful singer in the Bay Area. My jokes were stupid: As the wait staff began to break down the sound equipment, I acted surprised, and then said to the guitarist, "Wow, they break down your equipment for you? At my gigs they usually just... uh, they just, uh, hit me with it. Heh heh." The reaction of barely camouflaged pity? Priceless.

We were all polite to each other, but I also felt uncomfortable, like I was obviously trying to poach a gig from them. I often feel guilty when schmoozing or selling, even though there is no reason to -- they weren't even the bookers, for crying out loud. In any case, they were nice fellas and Marcus said he'd put in a good word for me.

I left Cafe Claude and realized if I could brave another club alone I could drive over to Biscuits and Blues, in the theater district. One nice thing about the bad economy is that street parking is easier to come by; I quickly found some. Across the street, Ruby Skye had a big line. Not sure what kind of scene that is but I'd guess DJ'd dance/house/meat market-type music. I walked into Biscuits and Blues. The man behind the ticket counter told me the show was almost over, so they'd let me in free. My kind of show! I began to walk downstairs to the venue, then turned back. "Excuse me, do you know who books this club? Can I leave a package for them here?" "Sure, got a press kit? What kind of music do you do?" "World and latin jazz and salsa," I said. He nodded approvingly and said another artist I know worked there frequently. They do book non-blues acts, despite the name.

I pulled out my second press kit of the night and spruced it up, then handed it to him. "Hey, could you do me a favor and tell the booker that when I gave you the press kit, I was incredibly charismatic? Like you were just blown away and wouldn't even have to listen to know I was great? Can you do that for me?" He laughed and said sure. "Well, that just makes my night," I said. "Lately my schmooze has totally sucked!"

I descended the stairs and it was as if I was back at Eli's Mile High Club in Oakland, watching the old-timers. I loved the dazed expression on the face of the drummer, as if he were an astronaut on a space-walk who just happened to be striking these drums in perfect funkyness. The horn section -- sax, trumpet and trombone -- was tight, and I recognized Mike Rinta on trombone, as he has played a few of the salsa gigs I've been on. I always like horn sections. They seem to work every type of gig there is. Rinta played a burning solo at one point and had great blues feel. The other horn solos were a bit jazzier, to my ear.

But the star of the show, Johnny Lee Walker Jr., had us in the palm of his hand. Most of the old standards (Stormy Monday) were trotted out, but there was no waiting between songs, and he kept them short which made them not seem so tired. There were some funkier originals, too. His voice and presence and wit were all the real deal. A seasoned showman, he made sure we were all standing and dancing before he was through with us. As I watched I found myself wanting to do more blues in my own show. It's pretty hard not to feel the blues if you're an American, I think.

When the show was over I felt horribly guilty for not buying his CD, but I was $20 ahead what with my own CD sale earlier that evening, so I forced myself not to. I always tip street musicians and I often buy CDs. Anyway, I slunk out past the bluesman and his stack of CDs, walked to my car, and realized that yet another venue was across from me. It was a restaurant that I'd looked into earlier for performing. The venue paid a pittance, however, not enough to cover a band, so I'd written it off. I went in and climbed the stairs. A tiny piano bar on a balcony sat over a hotel lobby. A woman was singing R&B standards with a gray-haired pianist and a drum machine to two English tourists. "Sing 'I Found My Thrill On Blueberry Hill,'" they requested. I stood there politely, giving the singer a positive vibe even though internally I was thinking, wow, this is a pretty bad gig.

Just then in the lobby below a storm of swear words burst out, as if from a Tourette's sufferer. We all looked over the ledge to see a balding white business man in a suit. He collided against the double glass doors, seemingly trying to break them down. "How the hell do I get out of this place?" he bellowed. "Get in the elevator and push R," the weary female bartender called down. He disappeared. A minute later, he was on the street, colliding with the same double doors, trying to get in now. "I'll go help him," she said. I wondered why she would want to do that. Then I wondered how I was going to get out of this postage stamp without encountering him. Stay or go, I debated... Go, I decided, and as I stepped down the stairs he barrelled up them past me, yelling with choice epithets about bleached blond bimbos who had done him wrong. Thus my Friday night clubbing ended, and I drove home...

Three Ways to Win Friends

2009-06-09T16:13:00.000-07:00

Lately, I don't know what has changed about me but I have begun to go out a lot more and have more of a social life. I have always been a tremendous homebody, very content to putter, create, fritter, garden and houseclean for hours on end. I wondered recently if this was due to Facebook -- sad, I know, but could it be true that Facebook had actually invigorated my social life? On many occasions, I have gone out and met "friends" from Facebook at a dance club or concert, and it's a real ice-breaker. "You look so familiar -- wait, are we 'friends'?" "Yes, that's right, from Facebook." It's happened a lot.

However, that's not the only thing. I joined Team in Training in January 2008, and made some really good friends. I remember having that awkward feeling, however, at times, like I was back in high school and not really a member of any group. But I've learned as an adult and as a journalist to put that aside and converse with strangers pretty easily. I guess once the glue starts forming around a group, that's where I have always neglected my duties as a friend and found myself outside or barely integrated. The interesting thing is that I did make some friendships that lasted from 2008 until now, and that when I came back to Team in Training in 2009 I really felt like I belonged. And I wasn't alone -- I often overheard conversations about how people had joined TNT in search of new friendships, and had found them.

Then there's the dance classes taught by my friends Sidney Weaverling and Ryan Mead. These two have so much talent both as teachers of Cuban salsa and as magnets for genuinely nice people. We took a road trip to L.A. in December and I got to know a lot more about them -- and we seemed pretty compatible, travel-wise.

Executive summary:

How to make more friends when you've been a homebody all your life

1. Join Facebook (and become my fan), then actually go out occasionally to an event mentioned there
2. Join Team in Training
3. Take a dance class with Sidney and Ryan
4. Try to be nicer
5. Pass notes in the bathroom
6. Always carry snacks, ibuprofen and tampons

Today's Original Song: I Wanna Work For You

2009-06-02T18:27:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kf3WYChvaM4

I Wanna Work For You
(c) 2009 by Alexa Weber Morales

I wanna know where the meeting is
Take me to your leader
I'll tell her everything she wants to hear
I'll make the coffee sweeter

Ain't nobody else who can do the job I do
I wanna wear a suit, I wanna work for you

My resume never used to fail
Now every door is slammed harder
I guess you think I know too much
But hey, I'll make you look smarter

Ain't nobody else who can do the job I do
I wanna wear a suit, I wanna work for you
Ain't nobody else who can do the job I do
I wanna wear a suit, I wanna work for you

I used to watch the sailboats on my lunch break
I used to wonder if someday I'd catch my wave
But everyone was right and I was so wrong
Who was I to think that you would buy this song?

I got laid off and I became a troubadour
I sang with the baby on my hip
Please take me back, put me behind the Levolors
I can't buy breakfast with my wit

Won't you allow me to do your PowerPoint
I'm quite happy flying coach
I'll bring you 8 am Croissanwiches
I'll stay late without reproach

Ain't nobody else who can do the job I do
I wanna wear a suit, I wanna work for you

Ain't nobody else who can do the job I do
I wanna be a suit, I wanna work for you

Ain't nobody else who can do the job I do
I wanna count your beans, I wanna work for you

Farewell to TYT; Tomorrow Night in Jack London Square

2009-05-29T14:59:00.000-07:00

Wow, has the first half of 2009 gone by quickly or what? Whether you've been barely surviving or joyously thriving (I've done a little of both), I hope you're learning new tricks and really seeing the glory that is all around you.

We had a lot of fun opening for Average White Band at the Castroville Artichoke Festival. Who knew that AWB was British? I liked the samba feel that ran beneath many of their funky new tunes. They also clearly had a more comprehensive show rider than we did -- we had a little awning over a patch of dirt, they had an air-conditioned tent with catered food, coffee and alcohol. I snuck in and got me a little mug of that stuff I can't resist ... coffee. It may be 3 pm on a dusty hot day dancing among hay bales in front of a giant festival stage, but show me a tureen of coffee and I have the same reaction many do when they see an ice-cold beer: I didn't realize I wanted coffee, but now that you mention it...

Also, I love me a big giant stage that I can boogie across for miles, and that's exactly what I and my fellow singers (Terrie Odabi and Keith Hames) did. In retrospect, this has turned out to be an important gig for us, because after nine years, Keith has announced he's shutting down his San Jose-based funk band TYT and going on to new things.

I've been playing with them since late 2007, and we've had a lot of glamorous (matching Dream Girls dresses) and memorable (wedding with all-you-can-eat-oysters and a pool with an artificial beach and waterfall) and sometimes downright bizarre gigs (a meeting of dog trainers, performing in front of a giant backdrop that read "The Nutritional Concerns of Breeding Bitches"). We have one more gig together at the Monterey Blues Festival. If you're in town, be sure to check out the soulful, good-natured sound of Mr. Hames.

Closer to home, I'm playing solo piano/voice tomorrow night at La Furia Chalaca, a Peruvian seafood restaurant on the corner of Broadway and 4th in Oakland, in Jack London Square. Come on down!

Keeping Up Appearances

2009-05-28T15:24:00.000-07:00

I have a lot of sadly funny little gig stories, stories I am often afraid to share because I figure it both shows what a small shot I am and potentially burns a bridge with some crappy, abusive venue, booker or audience I might need to re-woo in the future. On the other hand, despite being a relatively unimportant musician, I know for a fact that even rather important musicians do bad gigs with astonishing frequency. One day it's Carnegie Hall, next it's an Elk's Lodge, next it's a funeral, next it's a world tour with an egomaniac who stiffs you on the last month's pay, next it's a cavernous auto dealership without air conditioning and a single customer wearing prominent hearing aids.

On some level, if I ever do get a bit more successful, all my stories will add up to your usual struggle to "make it" -- and by "make it" I merely mean make as much money musically as I did as a magazine editor.

But I do find so much joy being on stage that it usually wipes out the negatives, at least temporarily. And when you overcome a particular challenge -- sound being run by crack-addicted chimps, or surly transvestite audience members, or a passive-aggressive pianist -- during the gig, you feel triumphant. It's those times you had 'em in the palm of your hand but then lost 'em that hurts more, I think.

The more you play, however, the more you put the bad behind you and realize that most gigs won't be great, or even very good. I recently read something in runner's world: The more you race, the less emotionally fraught each race becomes. That echoes what a music teacher once said to me: The more you gig, the less potentially traumatic each gig becomes. The bad stuff gets filed in your litany of bad gig situations. Musicians love to share their horror stories (see "Bad Gigs" by Tuck Andress).

Then there are audiences. We play to ethnic groups of all kinds. You never know when you might make some politically incorrect blunder, such as asking a Mormon about his secret garment or offering pork jerkey to a Nation of Islam adherent. Some audiences are prim. Others are wild, drunk, drugged, demanding -- you name it. "Tough crowd," really does sum it up sometimes. Maybe Miles Davis was on to something, playing with his back to the audience.

Case in point: Recently I played latin jazz for a Peruvian event which involved the national masters soccer team, in town for a tournament. While the show wasn't awful, it was a case of being told one thing but finding the reality of the gig to be quite different. I had not come prepared to do a salsa show, and had been contracted to do background latin jazz. We did our first set and received polite applause. I stepped off stage and was introduced to the various soccer players, all in their matching track suits. One of them looked at me with a hungry gleam in his eye. I figured this wasn't a lost cause.

We began the second set, and things got a little harder. After a few songs, someone yelled "Queremos salsa!" from the bar. Another singer was present, and he got up to pinch hit some old salsa favorites. Good naturedly, I announced before getting off stage that I'd love to dance with someone. I stepped down and swayed expectantly. No one approached. A nice looking guy sauntered by me; suavely, I caught his eye. "Want to dance?" I murmured in Spanish. "No, I'm working," he replied, scurrying away like a crab.

In a move that probably looked exactly like my tipsy mother working a cocktail party, I sashayed towards the event host, who had flirted with me earlier. "Care to dance?" I asked. He, too, had demanded salsa. Now no one was dancing. He looked at me, then looked at the retired soccer players sitting nearby on barstools. "Does anyone want to dance with her?" he asked. I felt like a defective mail-order bride. The man who had surveyed me favorably earlier glared at me with what now seemed like unadulterated malevolence. He remained silent. After an awkward pause, the host began to dance with me until the song ended.

Despite the interruptions, we played a few more songs, until I was asked to let a young man get up and rap to some tracks he had. In hindsight, I should have said, sure, we'll play our last song and then he can get onstage. Instead, ever accommodating, I relinquished the stage without so much as a goodbye.

The rapper was good, but once he had the mic in hand he became drunk with power. Two songs, then three went by. I didn't mind the break, but I began to realize that this had not ended well -- and it's nice to end a gig well. Leave 'em wanting more, but at least make it clear that you finished on your own terms, with a crowd-pleaser. By the time the rapper was done -- six tracks later -- my band mates were done as well. Unfortunately there was no rousing closer -- nor, really, could there have been a good way to follow the rapper's energetic, patriotic set, which was faithfully documented by his buddy on video camera and involved artful draping of the Peruvian flag.

As I loaded my gear out, the sound man approached me and mentioned an interest in having me sing on some hip hop tracks. I told him my fee. He smiled and sipped a beer as we spoke. He also frequently rested his eyes on my chest, leading me to wonder if the recording project was indeed his primary motivation for chit-chat. On the way home I shared a postmortem with my percussionist and thought about lessons learned.

But I want to end this post with a bang, not a whimper -- and make it clear that I'm not complaining, truly I'm not. Would I do it all over again? Absolutely! Viva Peru!

The Male Mind: More Insight From My Bro

2009-05-27T18:09:00.000-07:00

ME: So how is [rapper we know] doing?

BRO: Ah, you know, he spends all his time checking his MySpace, corresponding with girls who send him pictures of their vaginas.

ME: Ha ha! Oh, that reminds me of a song I wanted to write. I was going to ask you for some advice on it.

BRO: If "pictures of vaginas" just reminded you of the song, I can pretty much guarantee you shouldn't write it.

ME: Wait, wait, let me remember the idea. Oh yeah, you know how you say "Let me be your baby?" when you're in love?

BRO: "Let me be your baby?" No, you mean when you're a baby?

ME: No, you know, "I wanna be your baby."

BRO: Who says that?

ME: Lovers, don't they?

BRO: I don't think so.

ME: Baby this, baby that, you know. Anyway, the song was going to play on it, "Let me be your fetus, I want to be a cute little zygote."

BRO: [silence]

ME: "Feed me, IV me."

BRO: "IV me?"

ME: Yeah, stick an IV in me.

BRO: Not a good song.

ME: I was trying to be over the top, you know, make fun of how we infantilize ourselves when we are in love. That and all these bizarre fetishes that are out there.

BRO: Speaking of pictures of vaginas, did you know no guy can resist taking a picture of his johnson?

ME: What? I guess we are done talking about my song.

BRO: Forget the song. I'm talking about something that separates women and men. For men, it is an irresistable urge that cannot be denied.

ME: Have you done this recently? What does your wife think?

BRO: It's been a while. But if a man sees a camera lying around, he must pick it up and take a picture of his penis with it, for the other person to find.

ME: Oh, you mean someone ELSE's camera. Like a random person? Have you done this?

BRO: All men do it. It's innate. I mean, I haven't corroborated this with any other man that I know but I'm pretty sure that it's universal.

ME: I did not know that.

BRO: Ask your husband.

ME: I'm pretty sure he's never done that, but sure, I will. Thanks for the info, bro.

BRO: That's what I'm here for.

Last-Minute Gig Tonight at Club Anton, Jack London Square

2009-05-20T11:07:00.000-07:00

This gig just came in, but I'm looking forward to it -- I enjoy playing with these musicians so much. Joining me from 6 to 9 pm tonight at Club Anton (428 3rd Street @ Broadway), are 2008 Grammy-nominee Omar Ledezma on percussion/vox, Jonathan Alford (Avance, Machete) on keys and David Pinto (musical director, Susana Baca) on bass! Club Anton is a recently remodeled addition to Oakland's Jack London Square, owned by former Peruvian soccer pro Carlos Anton. I went there earlier this year to see Cuban salsa vocalist Pepito Gomez and had the time of my life.

I believe the cost is $5, but I could be wrong. I also believe it's a fundraiser for the Peruvian national soccer team (seleccion nacional peruana), but I could be wrong about that too. One thing I know, we will be playing a nice mix of latin jazz, Brazilian, salsa and originals!

Club Anton
428 3rd Street @ Broadway
Oakland, CA 94607
510.463.0165
http://www.clubanton.com
Price: $5

Alexa's Tips for Multitasking Musician Moms: Management Team

2009-05-18T18:55:00.001-07:00

This YouTube video shows how I have assembled the finest management team in music history: A pair of bright young guns who are hungry for success and won't take no for an answer (is that ever true!). I owe it all to them, breaking down doors, defending my honor, stashing my earnings in places I'll never find, twisting bookers' arms and -- if that doesn't work -- pooping on their lawns.

Men vs. Women and Their Little Goals

2009-05-15T20:21:00.000-07:00

BRO: So what’s new?

ME: Nothing much. Where are you?

BRO: I’m in WalMart, buying a baby trailer for the bike.

ME: Oh, well, don’t talk to me while you’re doing that, it’s rude.

BRO: It’s OK, I have my in-ear on.

ME: It’s still rude.

BRO: No, I just look like a crazy person gesticulating to myself.

ME: Fine.

BRO: Anything new?

ME: Well, I just finished the triathlon.

BRO: Oh. [pause] How’d that go?

ME: Pretty good. But it was hard. Next time I need to push a little more on the training.

BRO: You know, that endurance stuff doesn’t appeal to me.

ME: It doesn’t have to.

BRO: I mean, I’m going to run a marathon, but I don’t like triathlons.

ME: Oh you are, are you?

BRO: Yes. I owe it to myself to finish a marathon, since I crapped out when I trained with you.

ME: You know, that time you got lost in the woods and I had to call Park Headquarters for a search party, you did end up running more than 26 miles, I'm sure.

BRO: Yeah, I know. Anyway, I don't like triathlons.

ME: Well, that’s how I feel now about the half-Ironman distance. Although I could change my mind. But being out on the course for 8 hours just doesn’t appeal to me.

BRO: Have you watched the Ironman recently? My buddy and I have watched that for years. It’s in Hawaii, in the triple-digit heat, with no wind? No thanks.

ME: Yeah, and basically more than 15 hours for an amateur athlete to complete.

BRO: We used to say we were going to do that someday.

ME: Yeah right. Men are so ridiculous. You say you’re going to do an Ironman someday, while sitting in a pile of empties, eating pork rinds and smoking a cigarette.

BRO: I don’t smoke.

ME: The point is, men are ridiculous.

BRO: Men like to puff themselves up. We like to say extreme things. You women have your little goals, and then you go along checking them off one by –

ME: They’re not so little, bro.

BRO: Yeah, whatever. Men tell everyone, “I’m gonna make a million dollars by age 30.” And then they go to their job at 7-11 and forget to buy a lottery ticket. ’Cause that’s how men roll.

In Which Alexa Finally Blogs About the Triathlon

2009-05-11T08:56:00.001-07:00

Yes, I did it! I raised over my fundraising goal -- $2600 total -- and completed my second annual Olympic-distance triathlon with Team in Training. This all happened May 3. It's now May 11. Frankly, that's not a bad delay. Somehow it feels like an eternity has passed since the race. I have been going through my usual "now what?" phase in which instead of congratulating myself on completing what I set out to do I immediately begin thinking about what I should do next and how far behind I am on whatever it is. Although there has been a considerable amount of resting going on too, while I exercise my cranial worry and self-instrospection muscles.

The whole reason I decided to do Team in Training again after last year's great experience was because a nice woman/motivational speaker in my running group convinced me too. She told me I should join up despite the economy and my rocky finances, because fundraising was a form of "acting in abundance." Bless her soul, she quit the group after a few weeks (I still like you, if you're reading this), so for a while I was fond of saying she tricked me into joining.

Ultimately, I did raise the money, though it was harder this year and I had to make a large charge on my American Express to cover my minimum goal before all the donations came in. That charge will theoretically be reimbursed to me in a few weeks, which is a good thing as I don't have any money with which to pay the stupid AmEx bill.

We packed the family up and got down to Lake San Antonio (3.5 hours south of the Bay Area) Friday around noon -- much earlier than last year. The kids were excited. We pitched our tent as far away from my team as possible. I didn't want to make enemies with the loud kids and snoring we have going on. Then I rode my bike down to the lake and did our coach's designated workout with the group: 20 minutes swimming on the course in the wetsuit, followed by a bike ride back up steep Lynch Hill (about a mile) and a 10 minute run.

The next day, coach wanted us to do a 20-minute run. I did that too, although I worried it might be too much. I told an athlete on another team what he had us do. "What, does he have you running repeats on Lynch Hill?" he asked sarcastically. Last year, I rested for two days before the race. This year, I exercised, although admittedly it wasn't much.

Also, my husband wasn't too happy to be there. Basically, I was dealing with three kids, not two. I've been married a long time, however, so it's not the first time nor will it be the last that my spouse and I aren't in sync. And I know, I am not blameless when it comes to our relationship. But I slept OK, surprisingly. Woke up a bit sore. Packed up and got down to the race area. The previous day I had watched the elites as they did their transitions, and that proved quite helpful. I set myself up. Started feeling incredibly nervous. Over and over, I worried that I hadn't trained hard enough this year. Also, my quads felt a bit sore. I don't feel sore that often these days. Not a good sign.

The race began with the college men and then women. It's so exciting to watch them take off, swimming out in an inverted V with the leader closely followed by her rivals. Then at the very back are the stragglers. There's always one who looks like he or she didn't prepare, or perhaps has never learned to swim. I'm not sure what that's about. Do they complete the swim course, or just dog paddle back to shore? Meanwhile, the top competitors finish the 0.9 mile swim in 17 minutes or so (23 or so for women).

This year, I was starting an hour earlier than last year, as I'd managed to get into the first TNT women's wave, which also included women under 24 years old. I was happy to be with younger, more competitive people, as I hoped it would give me an edge in the run by inspiring me to work harder than last year's walkers and kibbutzers. The downside was I knew no one in my starting wave.

We pulled up to the start and warmed up in the water for five minutes. I felt great -- my wetsuit was really loose around my neck and shoulders. The water temperature was in the high 60s. Warmup ended, we stood at the starting line -- I stood in the back, on the inside "lane" -- and the starting horn went off. We jumped in. To my surprise, I did not get winded in the first five minutes. In fact, I never felt the struggle of "going aerobic" as I did last year.

I stroked out, quickly finding my rhythm, and pretended I was Michael Phelps. Rounding the first buoy, I began the straightaway. I was still with other swimmers -- this too was different from last year, when I found myself alone almost immediately as all the other swimmers passed me. I was absolutely enjoying myself. There is no feeling I like better than being in the middle of a giant lake, swimming. Eventually, to my surprise, I felt less splashing around me and thought, "great, it's opening up, and I'm passing some swimmers." After a minute or three I looked up and realized that I had swum out into the middle of the buoys, off course. I had to take a diagonal course back to rejoin the other swimmers. I wondered how much time that had cost me. As I rounded the second buoy, beginning my return journey, my watch read 20 minutes. I began thinking that I should not get upset if I didn't beat last year's time -- there was a whole race to do, and this was just the first part. Sure enough, when I finally stood up on shore, I saw that I had swum one minute slower than last year -- although I felt a million times better. Then I began running up the hill, yanking off my wetsuit. My legs felt like jelly.

After a quick transition to the bike, I took it easy on the first hill. The ride is so gorgeous. I was digging being out there with faster bikers, and glued myself to a woman 10 years younger than me (everyone's age is marked on their left calf). She passed me on the uphills, I passed her on the downhills. I clocked myself at 38 miles per hour -- my fastest ever -- going downhill. At the 13-mile halfway point I wasn't sure how well I was doing. But then three-quarters of the way, I began envisioning myself running across the finish line, ecstatic because I had come in five or 10 minutes faster than last year. I had to snap myself out of it: "Come on Alexa, it's not time to celebrate yet -- the race isn't over till it's over."

At the top of the hill, just before the mile down Lynch Road, I had a broad smile. I was so happy to be done with the bike. Again, I felt great. I knew I was within a minute of last year's time. Spectators yelled out "Great smile!" I love the spectators. I flew down the hill and did my fastest transition yet, thanks to observing the elites: 1:40 to change shoes and grab my hat, number and water bottle. I began running. My water bottle was hot. I ate a Cliff Shot, swigged water -- then tossed it away, even though the bottle cost $14. It has a giant red cow's nipple made out of some strange rubber, though, which I and my husband have never liked, so I figured I'd get a new one.

Now things got ugly. My vastus medialis, a little muscle on the inside leg above the knee, began to cramp on both legs. I'd only run a mile of the 10K course. Last year I started to cramp on the last hill. Now I was cramping at the outset. I stretched and swore loudly like a sailor, causing several people to turn and look at me. I ran, walked, ran, shuffled, drank electrolytes, stretched. I knew my run was going to go badly. But after another mile it was clear that walking was worse, as it seemed to make me overstride and cramp more. So I stuck with the shuffle.

The good thing about the run was this: Mentally, aside from the cramp, I was much more focused. I think all the running I've done in the last year has helped in this respect. In the end, I made it to the last hill. They called my name as I crossed the mat at the top of the hill -- "Alexa Morales, from Oakland" -- and I picked up my speed. I pushed myself down the hill, passing five or more runners. A woman in front of me was a bounder, and I couldn't catch her. The finish chute seemed to go on forever. I reached out for high-fives to keep myself motivated and slapped hands almost all the way. I crossed the line, held my hands high in victory, then stopped. I felt totally overwhelmed. My family was nowhere to be seen. Another athlete I knew gave me a hug.

I wandered to the TNT booth, checked in and got my finisher's pin, then saw the medical tent. I started crying behind my sunglasses. There were strawberries on the ground outside the med tent, and I remembered there were more inside. I went in. Strawberries were gone, but there were bananas. I picked one up and asked for ice. They brought me two packs for my cramping muscles. I sat there feeling sorry for myself. I had finished in 3:33, two minutes slower than last year. But then I looked over and saw one of our young runners being rehydrated via IV, crying. Another guy was on a respirator. Things could be way worse, I thought. Our TNT manager came over and patted me on the head, which nearly caused me to lose it. A gesture like that sometimes touches me so much.

After a few minutes, I felt better. A man sitting next to me suggested some exercises to strengthen that pesky vastus muscle. Eventually I left the tent, spent an hour unsuccessfully locating my family, packed up my transition area and rode the shuttle back up the hill. My husband and boys were sitting in the car, waiting for me. They'd been there for hours and were none too happy about it. I quickly changed clothes and we joined the massive traffic jam to leave the park. All I could think of was In-n-Out Burger in Salinas. After a half hour, my husband asked how the race had gone, and I started babbling about the entire experience.

We drove past scenery that was breathtakingly green, with painterly clouds and folded hills everywhere. The odyssey was over! The burger joint was packed in Salinas, but worth the wait. Several hours later, we arrived home and were surprised at how much we felt like we'd been on a long vacation.

I can't wait to do it all again.

Some Truths

2009-05-07T14:37:00.000-07:00

Random observations:

People who are critical of others will probably eventually be critical of you.

You can't avoid everyone you might ever disagree with. How do you know the warning signs for a relationship that's going to get really toxic?

You can't negotiate with someone if you have everything to lose and they have nothing.

Corollary: In a partnership you must have near equal risk or one of you can screw the other too easily.

When someone complains about a problem they always have with others, they are probably going to eventually have that problem with you.

Is it worth it to see if you can work around that inevitable fact?

If you think the worst will happen, that in itself doesn't mean the worst will happen. However, if the worst does happen, you won't feel better that you predicted it.

The first 25 years are the hardest. In any endeavor.

How do you know when to quit?

Some people will risk everything they have for something they can't have.

This one is from my 8-year-old son, today: Nothing is truly free, and everything dies or crumbles, even bridges.

Niiiiiice.

Team in Training Update

2009-04-29T15:01:00.000-07:00

This update is from last week:

April 18, 2009. We finished our 11th week of training at Lake Del Valle in Livermore, long one of my family's favorite places to hike and swim with the dogs. This time despite it being 8 am, brutal for a musician, the water was in the low 60 degrees, unlike our first open water experience, where it had been 10 degrees colder. In a wetsuit, it felt positively balmy. I swam about 40 minutes, and during the last half managed to find some rhythm. Afterwards I did my usual lamenting about being slow and got some more tips from other swimmers. One thing I can't duplicate is that many of the swimmers started in High School. Parents, put your kids on swim team so when they decide to take up triathlons in their 30s they're ready!

However, I kicked ass on the bike. Another woman and I paired up and rode 13 miles out on Mines Road. Beautiful! It was great to accomplish a 26-mile bike ride with a modicum of speed, and I knew it would be our last chance to get that distance in before we began tapering (reducing intensity/mileage to conserve energy for the race).

After we had a great honoree picnic in which several cancer survivors and family members spoke about their experiences, and the meaning of our support. The pain of cancer lingers, but it's deep. Cancer is not a disease you eliminate quickly, it's a process. These people and their families have been so challenged. It's depressing and scary. You want to look away. You want not to think about mortality. You want to crack a joke, lighten the mood, not catch what they caught.

But it's just as human to want to find meaning. To know that you survived cancer, beat it, only to go on to better things. Or to know that you got a few years you wouldn't have had before new chemotherapies were invented, and you use those years to do the very thing you have always known you were meant to do. Or that after coming back from the brink of death you met the woman of your dreams, a woman whose heart beats with enough strength for the two of you and everyone you know.

At the honoree picnic, I realized that these were stories of true love. Sometimes love seems fictional. The stuff of movies and pop songs and department stores. Yet there it was, catching unexpectedly in our throats. We can't live without you.

Team in Training: Bad Transition Area, Good Swim

2009-04-21T23:03:00.001-07:00

Team in Training: Swimming in Lake Del Valle

2009-04-21T23:02:00.001-07:00

Team in Training: Swimming in Lake Del Valle

2009-04-21T23:01:00.003-07:00

Team in Training: How to Get to Inspiration Point

2009-04-21T23:01:00.001-07:00

Team in Training: Running at Inspiration Point

2009-04-21T23:00:00.001-07:00

Donations by Midnight Please! Dollars Against Blood Cancer!

2009-04-17T13:05:00.000-07:00

I read somewhere that the ladder of career success goes like this: student, employee, independent contractor, business owner, entrepreneur, philanthropist. I had never thought of that order, and in the past I'd only seen entrepreneur as the ultimate goal -- which I personally didn't find very inspiring. But philanthropist? Who doesn't want to be a philanthropist? Well, aside from the misanthropes. I think I'll skip the entrepreneur step and just jump straight into philanthropy! Won't you join me?

I've raised $1300 to cure cancer! Can you donate by midnight? On Monday I must personally provide the outstanding amount of my goal, though I can still fundraise (my triathlon is on May 3). It's been hard this year, but your generosity astounds! Any amount helps! http://pages.teamintraining.org/sf/wildtri09/awebermorales

I've also got a special offer running through May: All sales of my 2 CDs on CDBaby (ONLY CDBaby, not other retailers) will go 100% after shipping and handling to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society! Buy now! (No promotional code needed, just buy them, and I'll deposit the money into the LLS fundraising site.) http://budurl.com/eq6s

To a Mother Concerned About File-Sharing

2009-04-16T15:59:00.000-07:00

The editors of Musicianswages.com have invited musicians and bloggers to answer a mother's question to them about her teenage son's propensity for online file-sharing:

I have a teenage son who tells me his pirating music is no big deal. Since he is a musician himself, I point out to him that someday that’s going to be his money people are stealing. But he remains unphased.

He tells me the record sales make money for the record label, not the artist. He says that the artists make all their money from touring and live concerts. He thinks the pirated music promotes the concerts and therefore helps the artist make more money. I still don’t allow pirating in my house.

But tell me what you think - as artists out there having your work “shared,” are you just glad to have it being enjoyed, or does it bother you? Admittedly, he is stealing music that is recorded by major record labels, so maybe its different than the independent musician working for his living. But I’d still like to hear what you think.

First off, the concept of exposure is completely bogus and overused as an excuse to exploit artists. Your son needs to drop that argument out of his arsenal.

Beyond that, I think sharing music isn't black and white. Aside from concerns of legal and computer safety (Limewire's a great way to pick up a virus), the occasional use of file-sharing sites doesn't strike me as awful. When I buy an MP3 off iTunes, it annoys me that digital rights protections prevent me from sharing that tune via email with two or three musicians who might need to hear it for an upcoming gig. I think making a reasonable number of copies of music you have purchased is OK. Unless, of course, we are talking about my music.

If we are talking about my music, aside from the MP3s I have made available for free on my website, I would like you to purchase it. Inconsistent? Slightly. But honest. Look, I have no control over what you do in your home, with your computer. But I realized things were changing when, at a gig, a fan stood in line to buy a CD from me. "Which one should I get?" she asked, looking at both my indie releases. Her friend was standing there with her. "I'll get one, and you get the other, and we'll burn them for each other," she announced to her friend, right in front of me. I was a bit shocked and not sure what to say. I can't recall if I reminded them that I earn my living by selling my recordings.

But it bothered me (and it wasn't the first time the words "burn a copy" had come up at a gig). I asked around for a good comeback, and this is what someone suggested: "Every time a fan burns a copy of my CDs, it burns a hole in my pocket."

I agree that at an indie level (and as musicians) we aren't really in the record business, we're in the performing business. However, music recordings have become so commoditized that fans often forget what may have gone into a quality production. Of course, spending $25,000 or $50,000 doesn't turn a so-so musician into a great one, and no amount of money will purchase soul and creativity. One hopes that the details of arranging, session musicians, and professional engineering, editing, mixing and mastering don't go unnoticed, however.

Copyright protection has waxed and waned over the course of history. We have relatively high compliance with anti-piracy laws in our country, but many others don't. Personally I fall slightly more on the side of the copyright holders than the freedom seekers (as in free software). However, I've benefited from the contributions of both.

I've also travelled to other countries and been showered with gifts of pirated, poor-quality CDs and DVDs made by filming movie screens. I agree the rules seem different when we're talking about major labels. It feels like taking pens and stationery home from the office. But if it were me being pirated -- unless I was very, very rich -- I'd feel differently.

Ultimately, I think it should come down to the publishing concept of fair use (as opposed to commercial use). I can print a paragraph or two from a book I am reviewing in a magazine. I cannot print an entire chapter without permission from the publisher and author. I can make a few copies of music I purchase. I cannot enable that commercially available music to be shared by millions. (I can also go to the library and check out the album.) That seems fair.

Latin Jazz Meets Cuban Circle Dancing, Saturday April 25!

2009-04-16T12:38:00.000-07:00

Join the Alexa Weber Morales Band with special guests Sidney Weaverling and Ryan Mead of Rueda Con Ritmo for our third show of an ongoing series.

The fun starts Saturday, April 26 at 8 pm at Senzala, a delicious, spacious Brazilian eatery and cultural center located at 250 E. Java Dr. in Sunnyvale, Calif. Tickets are $12 and include a Cuban circle dance class, two sets by the Alexa Weber Morales Band, and an Afro-Cuban dance performance by Rueda Con Ritmo! Senzala is an all-ages venue and children are welcome.

Senzala is fast becoming a hot-spot for Latin American and Brazilian dance and music events, and has expanded their event schedule to a new night: Thursdays! Peninsula residents are urged to spread the word that affordable, high-energy and family-friendly fun is now in the neighborhood!

ABOUT RUEDA CON RITMO

Ryan and Sidney have made it their life's work to explore, perform and educate in the field of Afro-Cuban music. But why collaborate with a band when there's so much Cuban music on CD?

"I definitely prefer to dance to live music. There's such great potential for interaction and synergy between the musicians and the dancers," says Ryan. "I've experienced this as both a dancer and a musician -- the two groups feed off of each other, and the energy really grows."

"Listening to latin dance music, particularly the contemporary Cuban dance music called Timba, is very inspiring for both of us. The music is fresh and vibrant and the arrangements are truly masterful," explains Sidney.

"Many Timba songs are like musical stories. They take you on a journey. Some of my favorite songs begin with the flavor of an older style such as Cuban Son or Rumba and build the energy gradually until the musicians have riled the dancers into a frenetic ectasy with a more contemorary Timba sound, mixing Salsa, Hip Hop, Reggaeton, Jazz, Funk and R&B. The music gives us so much inspiration as choreographers. It allows us to take the audience on a visual journey so that they can see how each of the musical styles might be interpreted physically. Hopefully then the audience members will be inspired to get up and dance, too!"

ABOUT THE ALEXA WEBER MORALES BAND

Since 2004, multilingual singer-songwriter Alexa Weber Morales has made six studio recordings, including her two solo albums, Jazzmérica and Vagabundeo. The latter, named “one of the greatest Bay Area recordings in recent times” by Latin Beat magazine, made top-20 airplay nationwide and received acclaim from around the world. Rio de Janeiro–based producer Arnaldo DeSouteiro (João Gilberto, Luiz Bonfá) calls her original compositions “rhythmically captivating and entrancing.” A June 2008 DownBeat review of Vagabundeo enthuses, “Her large-scale skill and talent encourages her all-inclusive dreams” and praises her “gorgeous articulation, flowing time sense and warm tone.”

Murray Low is a 30-year veteran pianist on the Bay Area jazz scene. Though he is a tireless performer, recording artist, and arranger, he is best known for his work with Pete Escovedo (since 1994); Grammy-nominated John Santos and the Machete Ensemble (since 2000); and Andy Narell, the pioneering steel pan player. His multifaceted career has also included international performances with Tito Puente, Bob Mintzer, Sheila E, Benny Golson, John Patitucci, George Duke, and many others.

Born in Uruguay in 1960, Edgardo Cambon moved to Europe in 1982 where he toured and performed with well known Swedish group, "Latin Lover." In Amsterdam, Holland, he began studying the difficult coordination of drumming and singing simultaneously, performing with the local bands "Evolution 2000", "Rubén Salas Orquestra", "Salsa Charanga" and his own group "Bululú". Traveling to Cuba, he studied with master drummers Jose Luis "Changuito" Quintana, Justo Pelladito and Vizcaino Guillot and has participated in the Havana Jazz Festival and the Benny Moré Festival. He has taught at several University of California campuses and given workshops throughout the US, South America and Europe.

A Banner Day! Wanna Banner?

2009-04-14T17:51:00.001-07:00

If you'd like a banner, well, hey, here's one, courtesy of JazzWest.com! Click banner to see/download full-size image. Feel free to post it wherever, ASAP! Peace out!

Only Three Weeks Left To Go!

2009-04-14T12:40:00.000-07:00

I can't believe how quickly this year's TNT experience has gone by, yet when I think back to all the wonderful moments we have had as a team working toward this triathlon goal I realize how much we have accomplished.

A few weeks ago we swam for 45 minutes in the 51-degree San Francisco Bay at 8 am, then ran an hour to the base of the Golden Gate Bridge. The next day, we ran the Rhodes Race 5K at Lake Merritt, where I was the 4th woman and 3rd in my age group. While my time was virtually the same as last year (24:56), my pace was much more consistent, so I think I am learning how to be a more efficient runner rather than starting out too fast, dying in the middle and kicking it at the end.

Last weekend, for our big brick workout we rode our bikes 15 miles in Danville, through verdant hills past red farmhouses off Camino Tassajara. Then we ran 15 minutes. Then repeat. I had planned to do three of these in a row, but coach Paul told me quality was better than quantity, and to push myself hard on the second rep. I did, and I was totally spent!

I appreciate the support of everyone thus far. Now it's near the deadline for fundraising -- please make your donations soon and help me spread the word! My race is looming... May 3 here we come!

You can make a donation online and receive your tax receipt immediately via email. Please click here and make a donation now!

http://pages.teamintraining.org/sf/wildtri09/awebermorales

Thank you and race on!

Good news from WEMU in Michigan

2009-04-09T10:34:00.000-07:00

Linda Yohn, Music Director for WEMU in Ann Arbor, Michigan, reports they have achieved their spring fundraising goal of $135,000.00 in pledges. She explained how they did it in a recent letter to latin jazz musicians:

As everyone knows, we are in challenging times and Michigan is the hardest hit with the nation's highest unemployment figures and the dicey situation for the automobile companies. But, despite the situation, WEMU listeners stepped up to keep us on the air pumping out great jazz, blues, Latin and roots music along with in-depth local news.

Perhaps the announcement that the Ann Arbor News will only deliver on Thursdays and Sundays starting in July had something to do with it. Perhaps the fact that the Detroit Free Press and News are down to three days a week of delivery influenced our listeners decision to give to support our excellent and inclusive local news.

We also think our message of uplifting, real, soulful, touching music to help people cope with tough times had something to do with the success. Perhaps our move to program our music more progressively and aggressively has something to do with it. The record reps know the sound we're working on, and I think it is the right direction for WEMU.

A final message we conveyed to listeners was that we are a real "community station". We reinforced that message by taking daytime music shows (me, Michael Jewett, Jeremy Baldwin and Dr. Arwulf along with a few morning news/talk shows) down to the lobby of the historic Michigan Theater in Ann Arbor for a 9 day remote broadcast. This was tons of work, but it was worth it. Rather than sit in our studios and wail "woe is me, the economy", we put our Sunday best on and went out in strength and unity. People ran in to the lobby and dropped pledges off. They came by for coffee and donuts with us. Local businesses volunteered to answer phones. It was totally chaotic with Michigan Theater events going on at the same time as our broadcast, but we got through it. We ARE "the little station that can".

Emotional Singing: I'll Take You There

2009-04-08T18:09:00.000-07:00

In part one, I spoke about the technical things that I listen to in a singer's voice. They're nearly valueless without meaning, however. And a beautiful voice, while as irresistible to our ears as birdsong is to birds, isn't as powerful as one packed with emotional content. Here are some expressive things I listen to in a singer, not necessarily in order:

1. Emotion. We start with the lyric, most of the time. A good one evokes all sorts of back stories, allowing us, like an actor, to imagine myriad scenarios that might have led to the singing of this song in this moment. Sometimes the lyric isn't great. I often have changed a single word that bothered me, or dropped a verse or chorus I didn't feel, especially when singing religious music. The strength of a lyric depends not on erudition but emotional potential. For years I listened mainly to singers' voices, and almost never to lyrics. I came around. I adore the technical beauty of singing so much, but ultimately success arrived when I embraced the emotional side of it. That said, pure emotion without musical technique isn't entirely effective either.

2. Wisdom. There are no shortcuts. One must sing with the wisdom one has earned. A virgin isn't convincing as a siren, not usually anyway.

3. Humor. If you can find some humor, share it. Some singers are naturally effervescent, others serious. Even the saddest ones, who break your heart with every note, find something to laugh at. And the best moment to hit the audience with a message is after they've loosened up with a laugh. Madeline Eastman is damn funny, sometimes in song, sometimes between songs.

4. Energy. Whatever your natural energy level is, make sure it matches the song's intention. It can be fun to transmogrify a rollicking tune by doing it with a quiet intensity, or vice versa. I love to watch those Judy Garland TV specials. She seems drunk to me. She was so expressive, so irrepressible in her gestures, that apparently some TV executives said she made audiences uncomfortable. But that was her, inescapably her. See below, truth and creativity.

5. Wit. Some singers take a word or phrase you've never noticed before, say in a standard, and infuse it with a whole new meaning or double entendre. That's nice.

6. Sensuality. I could have called this sexuality, as perhaps it's mainly seen in pop music. But sensuality is more than that, it's the physical expressiveness, the body and sense intelligence, that a performer brings to a song. Some acting classes, or even religious and cultural philosophies, talk about learning to listen to where emotions register in the body. Do you feel it on the top of your head? In the middle of your forehead (third eye), or behind your eyes (seeing red, as in anger)? The heart, the chest, the back (a heavy load), the arms (strength), the stomach (butterflies, desire), the groin, the gut, the butt... Hmmm. Does one feel emotion below the torso? Hands are expressive. For dancers, all of the body is. I wonder as I write ... feet make us dance. Legs make us leap, or run away or toward something. I guess the answer is yes.

7. Knowledge and truth. Singing is not the same as lecturing. But one's knowledge can be an ingredient in what an audience hears. When you know yourself well, or you know the message of the song well, you testify. You tell your truth.

8. Assurance. Years ago in an acting for singers class our teacher had us stand up alone on stage in front of the rest of the class, doing nothing. She asked us how we felt. "Nervous," or "awkward" or "uncomfortable" we answered. Then she had us stand there and count all the floor boards in front and behind us. With this task as our purpose, we all reported no more discomfort. When you have fully understood the purpose of singing each song by creating an emotional context for it, your assurance will be obvious -- and comforting -- to the audience. It's not just emotional assurance either. On FaceBook, the luscious and witty singer-songwriter Ann Hampton Callaway posted a 1979 video of Carmen McCrae singing "I'm Glad There Is You." McCrae owns the song in so many ways, from the lyric to her modal phrases which reveal her deep jazz skill. The confidence is beautiful.

9. Creativity. I love it when I hear something I've never heard before. We're social animals, so we're wired to ape each other, but occasionally someone does something extraordinarily different. They're often ostracized for it. Then when they die we say how great they were. However, originality isn't for everyone. Indeed, it may not be the most profitable course. An audience facing an original artist isn't sure what to think. An audience facing a star or someone covering their hits doesn't have to think. Even in tiny musical niches, there are originals and copies, influencers and influencees. Sometimes it's debatable. It can be annoying when you've just seen someone you think is fabulous and your cynical friend says, "Oh, he's just a second-rate version of so-and-so."

10. Soul. Mavis Staples is the first name that comes to mind, mainly because of the title of this essay. Soul is love, pain, honesty, injustice, dirt, salt, sugar and carbon. It's something extra and forbidden and inspiring. You can't fake it. You can only feel it.

11. Freedom. Certain performers are so free that we can't help but be drawn to them. Rhiannon. Kellye Gray. Bobby McFerrin. Frank Sinatra. Judy Garland. Sammy Davis Jr. Bjork. Sometimes they seem to be mere vessels for beautiful, expressive voices, and one wonders if they think much at all about the points I've listed above. Cecilia Bartoli, or Pavarotti. Freedom without mastery can be a train wreck. Mastery without freedom isn't much better.