It’s time for the jesters and the minstrels.
My mother called me this morning filled with contagious anxiety, and it took an anecdote from a friend for me to understand what I could do for both of us: make her laugh. I pulled out the big guns and sent her a Key & Peele skit about farts after we got off the phone. I figure I can keep a stash of bathroom jokes on hand, and that way every time she wants me to panic with her, I’ll send one. I’m the family prude on that particular topic and it’s her favorite, so she should feel warmed by my sacrifice in addition to laughing.
This Friday, my friend MG Bailey is live streaming a concert at 9 p.m. CST on Facebook. He’s one of many musicians out there entertaining people via web cam. I’m looking forward to watching and sharing some virtual space with other fans and friends that night.
John Legend fans can watch him today on Instagram at 3 p.m. CST.
Keith Urban performed live yesterday, and you can still see it on his social media.
In the current crisis and overhaul of how we live our lives—temporary as it may be—the arts community is necessarily fulfilling its mission of bringing people together.
Many of the artists I know (of all disciplines…musical, visual, literary, film, performance, etc.) are fringe-dwellers. We’re a little subterranean. We’ve stood outside of and below all the static, and we’ve dreamt inside it. We’re acid hallucinations of Being. We’ve floated between sound waves and in beams of light, and it makes us write symphonies and odes. It’s compulsion.
We’re not doctors or supply chain drivers. This is what we’ve got. Some songs and some jokes. We’re pretty damn good at innovating and finding ways to connect with others. (Don’t think I won’t be serenading my neighbors across the courtyard before this all ends.)
I highly recommend that—for a few minutes—you turn off the news and listen to some music.