you’re so sexy when you…
How do you mourn the loss of a self who is far sexier than you?
Nothing is sexier than being a singing bassist (see Esperanza Spalding for more on this). Especially when it is jazz.
And who doesn’t want to be sexy?
It has been about four years since I have really played music. Music was a significant portion of my life. I was raised by a pianist whose talent flowed naturally from her bloodline right into my sister. I always felt that music never came as naturally to me. This may be the result of my compromised attention span. I played in a trio for several years through school; primarily jazz and bossa nova, occasionally an indie tune. Other bands too, but I won't get into my rock band affair here... We played publicly, despite my being a shy performer. I loved performing far less than I loved being able to split my mind into two paths, one which was grounded, the other which floated (is this how you describe playing the bass and singing?).
Now it's been years. I’ve hardly sung. I haven’t picked up an instrument with joy. Many things happened over this time - the first was a shoulder injury. I simply wasn’t able to reach the neck of my bass for many months between 2021 and 2022.
...and then I was sick... and then I had surgery... and then I moved (twice), and then I moved one more time, but much further... and then I was painting... and then I graduated... and then I started school again... and then I was traveling... and then I moved... and then I moved again (far, far away)... and then I was living in the moment.
And then I sobbed while my beautiful friends sang and played Sufjan Stevens together in their Oxford flat.
I didn't know it at the time, but as they comforted me I mourned the loss of this musical self.
... and then, incidentally, I was in a period of mourning... and then I was traveling... and then I moved again... and then I was home, enjoying a Nova Scotian summer... and then I was packing. I moved again (this time, with my guitar)... and then I was getting unpacked, got a dog, was finishing my masters degree, looking for a job, and applying to school again... and now that I am settled, I eye my guitar from the desk. Dusty and untuned.
I love the stories we tell ourselves when we imagine the past.
I let the singing-bassist go. But what if I hadn’t mourned this loss? What if it had just been a hiatus? Can I un-mourn a past self?
Can I take her out for dinner and say, I am so sorry. You are many things to me. You are everything to me.
You are so sexy to me.
xoxo, anna