Page 32 of Together in Harmony
“Whoever told you that, baby?” I ask her. “Music is a space for everybody. There is no gatekeeping in music.” She just shakes her head. “Seriously, when I was living in a shelter, I basically couldn’t read or write. Music was the thing that gave me self worth.”
I start to strum again. “Babe, just listen to the different chord patterns.”
She is gnawing on her bottom lip again, but gives a small nod. Baby has no confidence when it comes to music, but is willing to give it a go. I love that about her.
My fingers strum softly and I play every chord combination out there. At one point she almost says something, then stops herself and looks down at her feet instead.
I stop playing. “This one babe?” I move between an E chord and G seventh, then onto an E minor. When she doesn’t say anything I play it again.
She has good taste.
“It’s a beautiful combo,” I tell her. “You like it. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I guess I don't trust my instincts,” she says quietly, making me want to Hulk-smash whoever destroyed her confidence.
“You may not, but I do. So trust me, to trust you, OK?”
I play the chords in a loop.
“So this is the basis of our song. Now we need to think of a theme. What are these notes making you feel? What do they make you think of?”
I start fingerpicking now, then I throw in a couple more chords. I just concentrate on playing and hope that she’ll relax and sink into the process.
After a few minutes, I glance up.
Harmony has closed her eyes. Her face is pale and a little haunted, but she is listening. I watch her body sway gently with the rhythm. After a few minutes she opens her eyes again.
“This is probably all wrong, but…” she says, with plenty more lip biting. “But…it’s like the feeling I got from watching Clara. Beauty and generosity. But also, sadness. She is giving her all, and that drains her. The noble way she willingly gives her life force to the production of beauty…I don’t know why, but that is what it makes me think about.”
My clever girl.
“Oh, sweet baby! You are so right. That is it, exactly.”
Harmony looks down and blushes. “You are just saying that.”
I lean my head against hers. “I told you to trust me, right? I have fucking bomber taste in music-making, and I say you are exactly right. Don’t doubt me!”
Reluctantly, she nods.
“Ok,” I say, “So now we come up with the lyrics. You are the poet, so this is your jam.”
Now she looks a little happier, like she has committed to the process. “Let me think…maybe we’d start with the perfect analogy? Something about…” once again she screws up her face in concentration. “...Mayflies.”
“Mayflies?”
“Mayflies,” she nods. “They live their entire adult life in twenty-four hours. But mayflies spend nearly a year being formed in the muddy river bottoms. When they emerge from the mud, they live bright and fast for just one day.”
While I strum, Harmony says quietly, “I’ve been waiting all my life, for twenty four hours with you…”
I look at her, and she blushes. “First line, maybe.”
“It’s perfect.”
“I’ve been waiting all my life, for twenty four hours with you…” I sing a melody with the words…then add, “And now that it's here, I don’t know what to do…”
“Will reality live up to my dreams?” Harmony half-sings in a sweet soft voice next to me.
“Time is ticking, we’ve got to decide…” I put out the next line.
