today’s audio comes from a demo i made in january of 2017 for my weekly songwriting group, “the game”. the way “the game” works is this: our leader, matt the electrician, gives us a prompt on sundays, and we have to use the prompt in a song by the following friday. the prompt can be a recurring theme; it can be a one time throw-away lyric. the only requirement is that you do not change the prompt in any way. the prompt for that week in january was “bring the money”, and i leaned into it hard, making it a repeated chorus.
it was a fraught time for us nationally and a busy time for me artistically. there was the specter of donald trump’s (i hope only) inauguration looming, the recent end of our first production of “miss you like hell” at la jolla playhouse, the approach of a long US tour with welcome to night vale, the preparation of my EP “mirrors break back”. i was feeling edgy and sharp. this is always a fertile mindset for me. the songs sprout like weeds when i am cranky.
this one, like most of my “game” songs, was written in about an hour. i don’t try very hard with these songs, and that’s the point. you just open up your brain and take the first things that come out. do this every week for awhile and the quantity leads to improved quality.
for this one, i was thinking about female labor and equality, and how shitty it is for women in the workplace. no doubt i was spurred on by the disgusting behavior of the soon-to-be Misogynist In Chief. the only solution i see to this problem is a financial one. i doubt discrimination and sexism are going anywhere, anytime soon. so let’s not pretend to be diverse or sensitive or even progressive. just let me do my work and pay me money, as much as possible, for the supposed inconvenience of being a female-bodied.
i have played this song a few times live, though it never landed how i wanted it to. i think people might have thought it was more complicated or tongue-in-cheek than it is. or maybe it made people uncomfortable to hear someone basically singing “pay me” over and over. maybe it’s just not a great song. i don’t know! regardless, i eventually moved on, and the song stayed in the orphans file on my hard drive, which i occasionally raid for this essay. but i do love the demo. the little beat is satisfying. and i liked singing the background vocals. so that’s why i have held on to it.
i’ve just come back from tour and am feeling like a well-oiled machine. if you missed any of my recent dates, or if you just saw me but want more, you can watch an entire solo show i filmed a few days ago at the charles river museum of industry. it’s a gorgeous, high-ceilinged former factory, with impeccable sound, pro lighting, and many camera angles. also, my pal fenway park organist josh kantor joins me for a few songs. if you’re listening, an easy way to get to the show is to go to the news page on my website.
this fall i’ll be doing a small NE run. stay tuned for an announcement of cities and dates later this summer. and meantime, there is my upcoming june 4 visit to fayetteville AR and my june 11 hiking concert in ashburnham MA. all that info and more, as always, on the shows page at erinmckeown.com.
i think this newsletter is settling into its podcast/essay fusion self. i’m really enjoying making it. i hope you are enjoying reading and listening. if you are, do me a favor and please tell a friend.
also, it’s free to subscribe, and once you’re a subscriber you can easily convert to a paid subscription. i don’t do patreon, kickstarter, go fund me or any of that jazz, so if you find yourself hankering to support my work, and you can’t go to a show, becoming a paid subscriber is a great option. thanks for reading and listening!
per usual, i am writing this essay a few days before you will read it. for many reasons, i like this delay. i enjoy having a moment to consider what i want to say, to make corrections in spelling or refinements in my language. now that i have added audio, that also takes a second to put together.
so my production schedule doesn’t lend itself to hot takes. but neither does my personality. as i’ve written about before, i tend to avoid being argumentative or provocative for the sake of clicks. i don’t find that a productive strategy for myself. i like to mull things over, i digest slowly. i seek consensus and supportive encouragement in my work. i also think there is more oxygen for those who wait. the wave of opinion that tides over us when something controversial or awful happens (the oscar punch! the leaked supreme court opinion!) just leaves me feeling like i swallowed a mouthful of ocean. i need a minute to cough it out, get my breath back, and figure out how i actually feel. the important things will stick around, the large scale patterns will reveal themselves. meanwhile, i’ll conserve my outrage for the relay race, not the sprint.
and yet, the only thing i can think about today as i write this is saturday’s shooting at a buffalo supermarket. yet another white man had access to military-grade equipment and killed black people. the list of these events is long; the hot takes and the thoughtful, researched long form journalism abound. i don’t even have anything to say about the tragedy except that i am profoundly sad, and i feel true despair.
i’ll be honest, i don’t think we will ever get rid of racism or assault rifles. so spare me the platitudes about coming together or changing the system. you will never convince most white people that they need to change. white supremacy and race are the most successful lies and propaganda humans have yet conjured. they are a canny mind fuck that reify themselves and only grow stronger the more you try to eradicate them.
the only thing i can think of is… bring the money. we (defined however you want - white people, the government, the rich) need to pay black communities the money that is owed from centuries of theft, violence, corruption, and exploitation. that’s it. just bring the money. there is a case for reparations to be made. no amount of diversity, equity, or inclusion initiatives can match economic reparations in impact and capacity to make people’s lives better.
that’s it. that’s my hot take. a few days after i wrote it, i still stand by it. i’m tired of candlelight vigils and social media outrage. they don’t make me feel better. do they make you feel better? if something was taken from you that cannot be returned, don’t you think the next best thing is money?
this morning, carl and i started a new audio book, My Old Kentucky Home: The Astonishing Life and Reckoning of an Iconic American Song by Emily S. Bingham. i was very excited to start this, given that my college ethnomusic interests were exactly this time period and subject. and i have written before, quite recently, about the ways 19th century minstrel shows still affect our 21st century culture.
one of the benefits of the audio book was a medley of various versions of the song. “my old kentucky home” was written in 1852 by stephen foster, but we only have access to performances from about 1900 onward, following the invention of recording technology. and yet, a quick youtube search of the title gives you endless and surprising versions. loretta lynn, the mormon tabernacle choir, john prine, bing crosby, johnny cash, paul robeson. the list goes on.
the medley at the beginning of the audiobook was a string of very early versions, scratchy and warbled. it was fascinating to hear the same, racist lyrics blithely sung over and over in all manner of productions: solo operatic singers, barbershop quartets, amateur glee clubs, polished nightclub renditions. at one point, a kind of high-strung choral version came on. i can’t find the actual recording that was in the audio book, but imagine a sudden wash of anxious harpies, singing frantically at the top of their range:
“Weep no more, my lady
Oh, weep no more, today”
at this exact moment, carl was doing his favorite thing: gulping down his food as fast as possible, his head buried in his bowl. and yet, when this particular rendition of the song came on, he immediately stopped eating. he suddenly became rigid and stood at full attention. in a flash, he scuttled quickly backwards, something i have never seen him do. not even for a lawn mower, vacuum cleaner, or a backhoe, all of which terrifying things, he loves. then he jumped straight up in the air and did a 360. he ran to the kitchen counter and tried to jump on it. again, something i have never seen him do. then he bolted for the porch, where again he stood at full attention, his gorgeous velvety ears quivering with panic? fear? agitation? he stood on his hind legs and put his paws on the porch railing, looking this way and that for the source of this awful sound.
by this time i had turned off the book and was trying to calm him. i held his whole body tight and whispered in his ear. i gave him full body rubs. nothing worked. he was fully freaked the fuck out. i finally managed to get him back inside with a peanut-butter-filled kong. i resumed the book, but the minute that particular rendition came back on, again he lost his big red dog shit. again i calmed him. but the rest of the morning he was noodgy, testing my limits, hyper and vocal, when he is usually a friendly, relaxed bon vivant.
it seems clear that carl hates that odious racist melody as much as i do. as i held him close, i promised him he’d never have to hear it again. this is a promise i know i can keep for him. i wish it was a promise i felt could be kept for the rest of us.
erin
“carl, you never have to hear that song again!”
“thank god!”
7 months old!!!
¡ME GUSTA! : SOME OF MY FAVORITE THINGS!
my friend lauren balthrop, the visual artist behind my “cupido stupido” lyric video, has a new song of her own out. it’s called “piece of shit”, and it’s perfect.
growing up, i *loved* mcdonald’s sweet and sour sauce.
i just finished “sea people”, a fantastic book about polynesia and how europeans have tried to make sense of it in ways helpful and harmful. through it, i learned about this amazing group of hawaiians who built a traditional voyaging canoe and now sail it around the world, bringing attention to climate change.
the podcast “criminial” does the best animal stories. here is one about a mounted police officer and his horse. and this one from their spinoff “this is love”, about the love lives of the wolves of yellowstone.
2022 IN-PERSON SHOWS
Jun 3 - Fayetteville AR
Erin will be performing in-person to celebrate the opening night of T2’s production of “Miss You Like Hell”
Jun 11 - Ashburnham MA
Scenic Songs: A Hiking Concert
TICKETS
***
Jun 1 - Jul 17 - Fayetteville AR
Miss You Like Hell at Theatre Squared
TICKETS
Nov 17 - 21 - Richmond VA
Miss You Like Hell at University of Richmond
MORE INFO
If you have further questions or concerns about COVID protocols, please contact the venues directly.
Reminder, Erin does not appear in productions of Miss You Like Hell
i don't do hot takes