Talent Show: The Tender Gritty Music of Amanda Winterhalter

On August 10, Town Hall’s stage will be graced by musician Amanda Winterhalter for a single release concert. Tickets are on sale now! Get to know her a bit more:

There was a record player in her house growing up in the rural hills of Stanwood, Washington. There were records, too. A Bread album. Cream. The Rolling Stones. Anne Murray. “My mom really enjoyed Anne Murray.” Amanda Winterhalter suddenly breaks into song as we talk. Tender, with a little grit beneath. There was a record player at her house but the needle broke and no one bothered to fix it. It sat, getting dusty.

The Winterhalter house wasn’t a musical house. There weren’t tunes playing in the living room. The radio was rarely on. In the car they played oldies and gospel (Amanda’s mom sang in the church choir, after all). There was contemporary sacred music that piped through the car’s dinky speakers. “Amy Grant was very influential to me.” Amanda breaks into song again—a short refrain.

The house she found music in was a house of worship, a church the Winterhalter family attended frequently. “I wanted to do musical things,” and so she joined the choir. Her mom was a soloist from time to time. Amanda thought that was pretty cool. Sometimes, they sang mother-daughter duets together. Amanda started soloing at church when she was around 10 years old. She picked up a guitar as a tween and started learning chords and learned how to pluck the strings. As a teenager she joined a church band. “The youth worship team played the cool Christian music—drums, electric guitar, and shit.” She laughs a warm bright brassy laugh. “I lead the youth band and it’s where I learned a lot of my foundational band skills. I was quite ambitious. I loved music.”

Music was sacred to her, and still is. But secular tunes began to catch her attention. She listened ardently to the first ladies of jazz, the honeyed voice of Ella Fitzgerald, the blackberry vines of Billie Holiday, Dinah Washington. Also, Lauryn Hill. “It was the Video Music Awards, or something, and Lauryn Hill began singing ‘To Zion’ and it blew my freaking mind.”

Shy by nature, Amanda didn’t join many music groups in high school and when she went to college (Northwest University in Kirkland) she majored in English, though her desire to pursue her art grew and then grew more.

“My senior year was an inflection point. It was my time to rediscover music.” She took voice classes, ear training. She was a member of the chamber choir (“It melted me away”). She took music theory classes. She was becoming versed in verses.

She decided, shyness be damned, to enter the school talent show. She sang and played the guitar. She wore all black and was decked out in leather boots. She played Mindy Smith’s ‘Come to Jesus.’ And what happened? “I fucking won that show head over heels.”

She discovered that she could call herself an artist. She started writing her own songs in earnest. She was working in Olympia as a teacher when she joined a band in Shelton, Lower Lights Burning. She sang backup vocals, played piano, banjo, accordion, mandolin, pump organ.

From there she started making connections with local and regional musicians. She wanted to become enmeshed in the music scene and she felt Shelton couldn’t hold her. She moved to Seattle and soon ran into Geoff Larson, a jazz bassist who ran, and continues to run, The Bushwick Book Club Seattle, a nonprofit where local artists write and perform original songs inspired by books. She started singing songs at Bushwick events. She opened for Elizabeth Gilbert and Geraldine Brooks before their readings that were put on by Seattle Arts and Lectures.

Winterhalter and Larson became friends and developed an artistic partnership. Through working with him she began finding her form, the shape of her style, and her voice. “He helped me find the sound that felt true to me.”

He also helped her record her first album, Olea (2016). She’s got a full band now with Larson on upright bass, Rick Weber on drums, Nick Drozdowicz on electric guitar, and Ed Brooks on pedal steel. Winterhalter says, “With our diverse backgrounds and our diverse influences, we’re really starting to swing.”

On August 10 at Town Hall Seattle they release in concert the title track of her forthcoming album, What’s This Death (2019). They’ll be joined by The Drifter Luke and Old Coast. The album has all the parts that have helped make Winterhalter feel whole—cathartic lyrics, warm tones, deep wails, and wrenching growls. “It’s my way to have a voice in this world.” She suddenly starts singing again and a record player, gathering dust in someone’s house, is aching to be played. Winterhalter’s album comes out  early October 2019.

Below is a recent song she wrote about the Mount Saint Helens explosion:

Duh: The Importance of Early Childhood Education

On July 17, in the Forum at Town Hall, there will be a screening of the documentary, No Small Matter, and a post-movie discussion about childcare access. Get your tickets now.

The film’s directors are Danny Alpert, Jon Siskel, and Greg Jacobs. Town Hall’s own Jonathan Shipley talked to Jacobs about early childhood education, brain works, and Cookie Monster.

Greg Jacobs

JS: What got you interested in the subject matter? Do you have children of your own?

GJ: So my co-directors—Danny Alpert, and Jon Siskel, and I—all have slightly different “origin stories” for how we got interested in this issue. For me, it started when we were asked to do a video for The Ounce of Prevention Fund, a big early childhood advocacy organization here in Chicago. The video was about their flagship Educare, an incredible early learning center for low-income kids and families on the city’s South Side. After a week of filming, I was like, ‘Why hasn’t anyone told me about this!?’  

I’d been interested in education issues for a while (I’d written a book about school desegregation in my hometown of Columbus, Ohio), but I’d pretty much given up on K-12—the battle lines were so entrenched that it seemed like nothing we tried would make things better. But seeing Educare made me think, ‘What if the best way to improve the K-12 system is actually to improve the raw material coming into it? What if instead of 5 out of 25 kids arriving at a kindergarten class ready to learn, 20 of 25 did? What impact would that have on, well, pretty much everything that follows?’ And that’s when I became a zealous convert to the cause!

And by the way, I do have two kids, but sadly, they’re now teenagers, so they’ve both aged out of No Small Matter.

JS: The director statement on your website says, “Duh!” of course early childhood education. What made you want to take this on as a project?

GJ: After that first video, we did a few more, and each one made us more convinced of the issue’s scope and importance.  Finally, we said, ‘We want to do ‘the big one’—the comprehensive, issue-defining, Inconvenient Truth-type feature documentary about the power and potential impact of early childhood education.’ But, to be honest, there was probably no way we could’ve done such an ambitious film and engagement campaign on our own. Fortunately, we discovered that our friend and fellow Chicago filmmaker Danny Alpert also happened to be interested in the issue, so we decided to join forces and tackle the project together. Best decision ever. 

JS: What are some of the most important facts you learned while making the film?

GJ: No Small Matter makes a brick-by-brick argument for why investing in the first five years is so crucial. Each step of the way, there are jaw-dropping facts or statistics—a baby’s brain is making a million neural connections every second; in over half the states in the U.S. putting an infant in childcare costs more than sending a kid to public college; just three percent of all educational expenditures in the U.S. go to 0-5, etc. But because early childhood is inescapably about big people taking care of little people, probably the most important facts involve the destructively inadequate pay and respect we give the early childhood workforce. On average, ECE teachers make less than dog-walkers and parking attendants; around 46% of them are on some form of public assistance; turnover is roughly 30% a year; and in a study of the expected lifetime earnings of undergraduate majors, early childhood education ranked 83rd —out of 83. That’s unsustainable. 

JS: What are some of the most surprising things you learned while making the film?

GJ: Suffice to say, we are not scientists. So it was fascinating to begin to wrap our heads around the surprising science of early childhood development, including the groundbreaking work being done at I-LABS in Seattle, which we feature in the film. Researchers know so much more now about how the developing brain works than they did even ten or twenty years ago that the science has outstripped the public’s understanding of what really matters during the 0-5 years. And it turns out that what truly helps build a healthy brain is not flashcards or fancy technology, but the environment of relationships within which a child is raised—the more back-and-forth interactions a baby has with loving, supportive adults, the better that child’s odds in life will be. Which is why the issue of early childhood education is never just about children—it’s always about families and communities, as well.

JS: What were some of the most emotionally affecting moments for you while making the film?

GJ: There were a lot. But probably the most powerful thing was seeing, over and over, the struggles of parents and caregivers who are doing their absolute best in the face of constant, unyielding economic stress. Since Americans tend to treat 0-5 as a purely private matter—one that is neither shaped by politics nor political in its consequences—these parents and these caregivers often think that the problem must be them. Which is why so many of them have such emotional responses to No Small Matter—it’s often the first time they’ve seen their own struggles set in a larger context: the abdication (or privatization) of our social responsibility to support families with babies and young children. Or, as Geoffrey Canada puts it in the film, ‘Here’s an enemy that most folks don’t even know we need to fight.’

JS: For someone without kids/family, why watch the movie?

GJ: As I always say, our target audience is anyone who has, knows, or was a child. Because No Small Matter isn’t just a movie about parenting (though parents will certainly learn stuff). And it’s not just a movie about kids (though there’s a lot of fascinating stuff about early childhood development). It’s a movie about how we as a nation support—or don’t support—families with babies and young children. And that, as it turns out, affects everyone, because so many things that so many people care about are impacted by that issue: health care, crime, economic opportunity, inequality, workforce development, even military readiness—the list goes on and on. So whether you have little kids or not, we can pretty much guarantee that if you go see No Small Matter, you’ll laugh, you’ll probably cry, and you’ll leave the theater viewing the world differently than you did when you came in. Plus cute babies and Cookie Monster!

JS: What can people do to ensure early childhood education is available in their neighborhood/city/state?

GJ: One of the things we love about early childhood as an issue is that it’s not just powerful, it’s possible—it’s one of the very few issues that both Republicans and Democrats can agree on. That said, building a high quality system of support for families with young children is going to take time, it’s going to take movement on multiple fronts (prenatal care, home visiting, family leave, childcare, pre-K) and it’s going to take public will. So the first step for people is understanding just how powerful an issue this truly can be—telling that story is the goal of No Small Matter. Once you get it you can’t go back, so the next step is acting on that understanding, making it a part of your everyday political filter, a litmus test for your candidates, a measure of your community’s health. Basically, treating it like the grown-up issue it really is. If enough people get to the point where they, too, view this as ‘duh’, then we might actually see what advocate Dana Suskind calls ‘population-level change.’

Watch the movie at Town Hall. Listen in on a panel discussion after. Ask questions. Take steps. Tickets are on sale now

What Orcas Can Teach Humans About Menopause and Matriarchs

Darcey Steinke will be discussing her new book, Flash Count Diary: Menopause and the Vindication of Natural Life, at the Forum at Town Hall on July 8. Tickets are on sale now, or buy your tickets at the door!

The following article, written by Brangien Davis, originally appeared on Crosscut:

Seattleites understand the draw of killer whales. Even a dorsal fin glimpsed from a ferry sparks awe. We want to be near their black-and-white bodies, their close family pods, their huge brains, their haunting songs.

But for writer Darcey Steinke, one quality above all others pulled her from her home in Brooklyn to the San Juan Islands in hopes of seeing a killer whale in the flesh: the fact that orcas and humans are two of only five species known to experience menopause.

In her new book, Flash Count Diary: Menopause and the Vindication of Natural Life, Steinke explains how this surprising cross-species connection led her on a cross-country quest to see the centenarian southern resident orca “Granny” (aka J2, who has since died). The trip was a kind of feminist version of Moby-Dick, but instead of hoping to harpoon a white whale, Steinke sought solace from a black-and-white elder.

When she was 50 and having frequent, intense hot flashes (not to mention insomnia, fatigue and anxiety), Steinke began looking around for something — anything — positive about menopause. She noted that in pop culture, menopause is referred to almost exclusively as a punchline, often via dismissive or self-deprecating jokes about hot flashes or mood swings. The self-help books she read couched menopause as a disease that should be fixed, usually with hormone replacement therapy (HRT, which has many risks and unknowns). From pioneering menopause writer Gail Sheehy (The Silent Passage, 1992) to 1970s television star Suzanne Somers (The Sexy Years, 2004), experts promoted HRT as the best shot at “keeping the veneer of femininity intact.” To Steinke, everything read like “boilerplate misogyny.”

Her research unearthed a long history of dubious “cures,” from transfusions of dog’s blood to vinegar sponge baths to putting a magnet in your underpants. All of which, she says, seem a little less strange once you realize that the most popular hormone replacement treatment, Premarin, is made from the urine of pregnant horses.

“Nobody wants to hear about menopause, not even menopausal women themselves,” she writes in Flash Count. It’s an unspoken secret that many women are embarrassed to discuss. Even among middle-aged women, the topic of menopause and perimenopause (the years-long, symptom-heavy suite of bodily changes that lead up to the final cessation of periods) has a hushed air of shame — something to be kept under wraps, because culturally it signifies “your usefulness is over.”

When she found an article in the journal Nature about how postmenopausal killer whales serve as leaders and knowledge bearers in their pods, Steinke felt a glimmer of hope. While menopausal humans are ridiculed or ignored, menopausal orcas are critical members of their society. Given the lack of nuanced human narratives about this significant life change, Steinke latched onto the cetacean story. She took a plane to Seattle, a van to Anacortes, a ferry to San Juan Island and a sea kayak out into the Salish Sea.

Part memoir, part widely researched treatise (with citations ranging from The Incredible Hulk to Simone de Beauvoir), Flash Count argues for a new view of menopause, one that openly acknowledges and embraces it as a phase of life that is confounding and physically nightmarish, but ultimately pregnant with possibility.

“I wanted to fight back, to resist how the culture denigrates and stigmatizes menopausal women,” Steinke writes. She goes on to quote renowned feminist Germaine Greer, author of The Change (1991): “The menopausal woman is a prisoner of a stereotype and will not be rescued from it until she has begun to tell her own story.” And so, Steinke does just that.

I spoke with Steinke in advance of her upcoming appearance at Town Hall Seattle, where she’ll be in conversation with Dr. Deborah Giles, scientist and lecturer at the University of Washington’s Friday Harbor Labs on San Juan Island.

BD: What was it about that article in Nature that clicked for you?

DS: I found out that not only do killer whales go through menopause, but the post-reproductive orcas go on to lead their pods. And in that same article they talked about how menopause is an evolutionary puzzle because most creatures breed until the end of their life cycles — it’s a principle of Darwinian fitness to have as many offspring as you can. The article said menopause probably evolved in human communities for the same reason as in whale communities: because around 50, women get so smart and knowledgeable that they’re more valuable to their communities as leaders than as breeders. This was an idea that I really, really liked.

BD: So you got obsessed. 

DS: I got completely obsessed. There’s a lot of YouTube footage of the southern resident killer whales in the Salish Sea, and the University of Washington’s Center for Whale Research has a live-linked hydrophone— so I could listen 24 hours a day for whale sounds. Sometimes I heard them calling to each other. I also got obsessed with Lolita, who was from L Pod, and was taken 48 years ago from the Salish Sea and is still held captive at Miami Seaquarium. So I went down to see her. And then I flew to Seattle, went straight to Friday Harbor, got in a kayak, and on my first day out, I saw Granny! She was such an iconic whale. It was unbelievable. I’m still not really over it. I’ll never get over it.

BD: But in the book you say the moment wasn’t like the movie Born Free. It was more mysterious. 

DS: Right. When I saw Granny it wasn’t like we had this big connection, like, “Ooh, we are one.” I actually felt like her look said, “What the frig are you doing? Why are you guys out here?” I think that’s related to menopause. The passage is mysterious — it’s not like it’s all powerful. I definitely suffered some. But there was also some fascination with what was happening to my body, my mind, my gender, my sexuality. You’re almost like molting. It didn’t seem completely negative; it seemed more like, human. And real in a way that was not sugar-coated, and not necessarily empowering, but a human experience that should be felt and honored.

BD: Flash Count Diary is currently Amazon’s No. 1 bestseller … in the menopause section. Most of the other books in that category are about “solving the menopause problem” with hormones or diets or essential oils.

DS: I know, I love it! It’s like, The Hormone CureThe Estrogen CureMenopause Is a DiseaseYou Need to Fix Yourself. I’m not totally against hormones, but I’m so happy to be beating all the hormone books! When I was going through menopause — I think I’m at the end now, but I’m not sure — I discovered there are so few books that talk about menopause as something that is nuanced. It was always about how to get rid of the symptoms. There was nothing that was really engaged and respectful. When I started to have hot flashes, they were really uncomfortable, but they were also fascinating as a bodily phenomenon. I found them exquisite in a weird way, too — just to be incandescent with heat.

BD: Alternately there are rah-rah, empowerment narratives, such as, “Hot flashes are power surges!”

DS: As annoying as the menopause books trying to push everyone onto hormones are, those other books that are like, You’ll rise like a phoenix through menopause! were really annoying to me, too. Those are equally unnuanced. … I’m not completely surprised that I’ve landed in the women’s health world, and I guess I’m kind of happy about it. But part of the conclusion of the book is that we don’t need to be ashamed, we don’t need to get rid of it, we should live our own truth. So I like to think that my book is somewhat more punk rock than the others.

BD: It seems like lately there have been a few more menopausal storylines on television. Do you watch Better Things? Pamela Adlon’s character is dealing with her changing body and new life stage in the current season.

DS: Oh yeah, that’s a great show. I think she has a hot flash in one of the first episodes. There is also that incredible scene in Season 2 of Fleabag when the older woman [Kristin Scott Thomas] talks about how wonderful life is postmenopause. But I’m very sensitive to menopause being made fun of on TV, like when hot flashes are laughed at, even if by women. That stuff makes me kind of crazy — do we make fun of people who are having seizures? I’m not saying menopause is an illness, but it is a kind of bodily suffering. I know humor can be a release but most of the jokes are just boilerplate misogyny.

BD: When I was reading Flash Count I found that I sometimes felt embarrassed to be carrying around a book with “menopause” on the cover. And then I’d get mad that I was embarrassed by this thing that happens to half the population. 

DS: Yes, other women have told me the same thing. They think, “Wow, I realized I’m a little ashamed of this, and then I realized how crazy that was.” I mean, if you were reading a book about pregnancy or birth you wouldn’t feel embarrassed. Or maybe even a book about menstruation, because now we have this “menstruation power” movement. That’s connected to the idea in the book that women are mostly valued for their sexuality and their motherhood, so after those days are over, there is some shame attached to menopause. That’s misogyny, too. It’s just not a phase when men find women interesting.

BD: As the author of many fiction titles, did you ever have qualms about writing a personal menopause book?

DS: At the very beginning I wondered, would this taint me as being “the menopause writer”? But pretty quickly I realized even thinking that shows how messed up the culture is around all this. And I started getting kind of angry. I decided, I’m gonna write the most honest book about my own experience, and say what I really think about the way the medical world treats this condition. I got buoyed up by my own fury, so that dealt with the shame I might’ve felt.

BD: “Storylessness has been women’s biggest problem,” you quote cultural critic Katha Pollitt as saying. Her (and your) point is that while we have countless books about women coming of age, embracing sexuality, falling in love and starting a family, the roster of stories by and about women experiencing menopause is measly.

DS: That’s why I wrote the book, right? And that’s kind of why I attached myself to whales, too. I couldn’t find any human stories about menopause, so I got attached to Granny. Two books I did like were The Change by Germain Greer, a philosophical feminist study of menopause and midlife, and Colette’s novel Break of Day, which is a story about Colette’s own menopause and her flirtation with a younger man, a meditation on her sexuality at this age. There is also Simone de Beauvoir’s Old Age — people forget she was one of the first writers who would go out and interview people for her books, to hear their experiences, which is something I did for my book too.

BD: Tell me about the subhead: Menopause and the Vindication of Natural Life.

DS: I love the word vindication — in part because of Mary Wollstonecraft, whose book A Vindication of the Rights of Women [1792] was one of the first feminist books and was very important to me as a young person. But also because menopause is not a disease, it doesn’t need to be cured, it needs to be vindicated! I really wanted the book to be engaging — a fun read — but also a treatise or call to arms. I know that writing it definitely saved me from menopause shame, so I hope that can be true for other women as well.

Darcey Steinke is joined by Dr. Deborah Giles at the Forum at Town Hall on July 8. Buy your tickets now or at the door

Over the Moon with Charles Fishman

On June 28 in the Forum at Town Hall, acclaimed author Charles Fishman will illuminate us on America’s impossible mission to the moon. It’s the 50th anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing and his book highlights the behind-the-scenes heroes that helped put men on the moon. Get your tickets now.

Town Hall’s marketing manager Jonathan Shipley sat down to talk with Fishman about Gemini space walks, sneaking onto lunar modules, and how many hours of work it took to have Neil Armstrong stand on the moon.

JS: You were alive for that first moon landing. What are your memories of it? When you were a kid were you interested in space, science fiction, and astronauts?

CF: I was eight years old when Apollo 11 landed. I grew up in Miami and paid a lot of attention to the space program and I certainly watched the first moon landing. I remember watching subsequent ones, I think even once at summer camp. We all jammed into a room with a black and white TV.

When I was a kid I built Saturn Five rocket models and lunar modules, spaceship models. I still have some of them. I have a Hanna Barbera album of the first Gemini space walk that I listed to a lot when I was a kid.

I never wanted to be an astronautI loved learning about the people that made it happen. The astronauts are the very public heroes of those missions, but I liked knowing about all the people that helped them become those heroes.

JS: And that interest stuck with you all these years.

CF: I was a Space Shuttle reporter for the Washington Post during the Challenger accident. I covered the Challenger full time for six or seven months starting the day of the accident. I went to Houston for it. They created a media center for the 40 or so reporters who descended on Houston after the accident in that main building. And I sat next to a guy named Howard Witt from the Chicago Tribune. We worked late and, you know, talked a lot. And there was a lunar module adjacent to the press center. We debated endlessly over whether we should just skip over the fence between us and the lunar module and look inside. If we did they might take our press credentials. Or should we ask permission and risk being told no? In which case we couldn’t even sneak up because we’d already been told no.

I finally asked someone. Can we see the inside of the lunar module? They said, sure, let’s do it right now.

JS: And it made an impression?

CF: It was a real lunar module and me and Howard got to climb up and sit in the cockpit! The Challenger disaster was caused by NASA failures. The Challenger was human or bureaucratic error, start to finish. All those people should not have died. And then I was in the lunar module from the era before that and it worked perfectly.


JS: I watched that recent Apollo 11 documentary and was amazed at how ridiculously archaic the spacecrafts looked. The little buttons and gauges. It’s mind boggling to me that they made any of it work.

CF: That’s an important distinction to make. Based on the surface of things it looks archaic but it was advanced technology for the moment it was in. It was also bulletproof. Reliable. The computer that flew the lunar module had less computing power than your microwave oven—but you wouldn’t let your microwave fly you to the moon. A single iPhone has more computing power than all of the computers that NASA had available during any given Apollo mission. The people programming that lunar module knew how to stretch their computing resources to the absolute max.

Nothing failed. The spacesuits were perfect. The lunar modules were perfect. The computers that flew them were perfect. There was not one problem in 100 days of space flight.

JS: Tell me a bit more about those computers and the technologies of those days.

CF: The software for the computer was programmed using actual wires. There were no memory chips. And the computer memory was woven by hand by ladies sitting in Waltham, Massachusetts or the Raytheon factory.

Also, the heat shields for the spacecraft required material that had never been created before. They invented these materials and then injected them into the craft using caulk guns. They had limits, but they had to exceed those limits because it’s what they had to do.

JS: When you were researching the book, what were some of the more jaw-dropping facts for you?

CF: I didn’t realize how much had to be done by hand. The blend of high technology with handiwork is incredible. I did some math and found that there were 2,500 hours of space flight. I did a rough calculation of the number of work hours to make that happen. It turns out for every hour of space flight it required 1 million hours of work on earth. A million hours of work is literally the work lives of ten people. So, every hour of space flight required the equivalent of the entire working life of 10 people.

There were a total of 11 missions. You had 400,000 people working to put 33 crewmen in space. It was a daunting undertaking.  

JS: Any surprises in your research?

CF: I was surprised to discover that at no point did even 50% of Americans say they supported going to the moon. We have this image of it as an incredibly popular undertaking. 94% of American households watched the first moonwalk. But there was never a majority of Americans who thought going to the moon was a good idea, or that it was necessary, or that it was worth the money. It was all political leadership and political will.

JS: With NASA doing the impossible, did that stir other industries to try and do the impossible as well?

CF: That’s an argument I’m making in this book—the impact NASA had on society. NASA laid the foundation not for the space age but for the digital age. That iPhone in your pocket is possible, in part, because of what those men and women did back then.

JS: Should we go back to the moon? There’s been some recent discussion of going back of late.

CF: I think for the money we spent on Apollo, what we got back on earth paid us back a hundred or a thousand times on the dollar because Apollo helped unlock the digital revolution. We only spent $20 billion going to the moon in actual money. There were individual years of the Vietnam War that cost more than the entire moon mission. So, I’m all for space exploration and for human space exploration, but it needs to serve a purpose. Should we go to the moon by 2024 to just walk around? No. I think we should go to Mars. Maybe learn the lessons of living on another planetary body.

JS: Do you want to go to the moon?

CF: I’m 58 and I don’t think I’m going to the moon any time soon. Maybe soon we’ll be in an era of human space travel, but not quite yet. Maybe in 15 years. I think what Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk are doing are steps in the right direction.


Take steps to see Fishman at Town Hall on June 28. Tickets are on sale now.


This event is part of Seattle’s Summer of Space, a city-wide celebration of the 50th anniversary of the first Moon landing. Celebrate at the ONLY place in the world hosting the Apollo 11 command module Columbia during its 50th anniversary year: The Museum of Flight. Destination Moon: The Apollo 11 Mission runs at the Museum of Flight from April 13 to September 2, 2019.

L’amour De La Vie: A French Cellist and Jack London

Supported by the French Embassy in the United States, “Love of Life” is a creative project by three of Europe’s top musical improvisers based on the writings of Jack London. French cellist Vincent Courtois, revered for virtuosity at the edge of classical composition, has created an acoustic trio with two tenor saxophonists, exploring tonal mid-range in works inspired by individual titles of Jack London writing such as Martin Eden, Sea Wolf, To Build a Fire, and Goliath. Town Hall is excited to work with Earshot Jazz in bringing these musicians to the Forum stage on June 29. Tickets are on sale now.

Town Hall’s marketing manager, Jonathan Shipley, recently sat down with cellist Vincent Courtois to discuss jazz, Jack, and musical ambiance.

JS: When were you introduced to the cello? What interested you about it?

VC: Playing cello was not a vocation. My sister, older than me, was playing violin. I used to wait for her in the corridor during her weekly lesson. A very nice man was always passing in the corridor saying words. Some years later, when my mother asked me which instrument I want to study, I answered quickly, ‘I don’t know! I just want to do it with that nice man!’…and it was the cello teacher.

JS: How did you start thinking about using the cello as a jazz instrument? It’s not that common of a jazz instrument—why do you think that is?

VC: When I was a teenager I was studying how to play cello in a very serious classical conservatory. During college, I had some friends who were trying to play rock ‘n’ roll music with guitars and drums. They didn’t have a clue about music but they were playing very loud music that I loved. I tried to play with them with my cello even if it was difficult and then I started to feel that completely different worlds could meet together. Lately, I’ve discovered jazz. It is a revelation. It’s the perfect place between rock, classical, and  contemporary music. I feel that it is the perfect music where I can express myself with a good mix of rigor and liberty in the same time.

And, actually, there are more and more cello players in jazz and this is a great thing! When I was young we were a very few…like pioneers. With cello, you can do many things—‘singing’ like the human voice, being voluble like a violin, playing chords, basses… When jazzmen understood this, they started to engage a lot of cello players in their bands.

JS: What jazz musicians inspire(d) you?

VC: The first one that really changed my life was Miles Davis but I would say that the most inspiring musicians for me are the ones I’ve played with.

Jack London

JS: Why does Jack London’s work speak to you?

VC: I discovered Jack London very late. It became a passion after I finished the fascinated story of Martin Eden. During two years I read only Jack London. No other author existed for me. Step by step, I started to feel some music coming from inside me inspired by Jack London’s stories. Then I started to compose melodies.

JS: What are some of your favorite Jack London pieces?

VC: My favorites pieces are the ones that inspired my melodies: Love of Life, The Road, The South of the Slot, The Dream of Debs, The Sea-Wolf, Trust, To Build a Fire, and, of course, Martin Eden.

JS: Have you gone to Napa to visit his grave?

VC: During the tour we are suppose to visit Napa with the French consulat!

JS: One thing many might not know was also how artistically powerful he was as a photographer.

VC: I love Jack London’s photography, especially photos from London’s East End. Jack London’s life was very short but he did so many things.

JS: How do you, as an artist, translate’s another artist’s work into your medium? What are the greatest rewards and challenges by doing that?

VC: For Jack London’s work it was very easy, obviously and natural. It’s only my interpretation of his pieces. I think that it’s like a movie director. I feel an ambience, a decor, an emotion, and then music comes. Daniel Erdmann and Robin Fincker, also inspired by Jack London, also gave their interpretation in music. It was very important for me to come here, to this place on the west coast, to play our music and record this album dedicated to Jack London.

Join Earshot Jazz at Town Hall’s Forum as they present “Courtois, Erdmann, Fincker: Love of Life” on June 29.  Get your tickets now.

Singing to the Choir

On June 15, at Town Hall’s Great Hall, Seattle Girls Choir will present their biannual “All Choir Concert.” It features all six levels of Seattle Girls Choir from kindergarten through high school. About 180 young singers altogether, the event showcases their hard work and dedication.

Tickets are on sale now.

Town Hall’s marketing manager, Jonathan Shipley sat down with Seattle Girls Choir Artistic Director Jacob Winkler to discuss choral music, pursuing a degree in biology, and Simon and Garfunkel.

Jacob Winkler

JS: How did you get involved with Seattle Girls Choir?

JW: In 2009, SGC’s founder decided to retire after 27 years with the organization. I had a piano student who was a member of SGC, and she told me about the job opening and urged me to apply. I did, and ultimately was offered the position of Artistic Director and conductor of Prime Voci, the most senior group.

JS: What are you most proud of in your tenure there?

JW: I can point to individual achievements and moments. Certain concerts stick out in my mind, such as our first “Carmina Angelorum” holiday concert back in 2012. Last summer we competed in a big international choral festival, the Llangollen Eisteddfod in Wales, and we turned in some of the best performances we’ve ever done, which was extremely gratifying. Overall though, I think I’m most proud of the bigger picture: that every level of the organization has seen tangible musical growth over the past several years.

JS: What are you most looking forward to going forward as SGC’s Artistic Director?

JW: We’ve had a few years with a little bit of instability in our faculty, with really wonderful musicians who were getting pulled in many different directions. I’m extremely happy with the faculty we have in place now, and I’m looking forward to seeing the growth in the younger groups, and how that will trickle up to my own choir in 7-8 years!

JS: As a kid, when did you get introduced to music? What did your parents listen to? When did you start singing? When did you think you could make a career in music?

JW: My parents listened to a mix of classical music and folk. There was a lot of Simon & Garfunkel and Ian & Sylvia. I started off taking piano lessons probably about age six and joined the Northwest Boychoir when I was seven. I played and sang throughout high school, adding string bass into the mix mostly so I could hang out with the kids in my school orchestra, who were some of my best friends. I’m not sure when I started actively thinking about a career in music, but I remember coming to the realization in college that it really wasn’t going to be possible to pursue degrees in both music and biology (too many direct conflicts), and asking myself  “which one can I not do without?”

JS: Who are some of your favorite composers?

JW: I’m awfully fond of Beethoven. Film music was also an early love of mine, so John Williams too!

JS: What are some of your favorite choral pieces?

JW: Every year we sing Benjamin Britten’s “A Ceremony of Carols” during the holiday season. I keep waiting to get tired of it, but it hasn’t happened yet!

JS: What are the steps involved if a child wanted to join SGC?

JW: Step one is always going to be getting in touch with our office. What happens next depends a little on age: In kindergarten or first grade they would probably be placed in out Piccolini group. All other groups require a short and, hopefully, non-threatening audition where the child is asked to sing a song and play some ear games to demonstrate their ability to match pitches. Older girls may also be asked to demonstrate any prior knowledge like identifying notes on a staff or rhythmic values.

JS: If you could sing a duet with someone famous, who would it be?

JW: What a great question! I’m going to go with Paul McCartney. There were some great duets between Paul and John Lennon in the Beatles’ early material, and it would be really great doing things like “If I Fell” or “I’ll Follow the Sun” with Sir Paul!

Join Jacob Winkler and fall for the wondrous sounds of the Seattle Girls Choir on June 15. Get your tickets here.

Music as a Bridge

With our Great Hall reopening, we’re excited to get back into our historic home and see what the space can do. To help put the Great Hall through its paces and show us a truly unique musical experience, composer and Fremont Bridge Resident Paurl Walsh is coming to Town Hall on May 23 to present his incredible concert Bascule. FREE tickets are available now. Town Hall’s Copywriter Alexander Eby sat down with Paurl to talk about Fremont fulcrums, and the ways music can help us connect to each other.

AE: What can you tell me about the concert?

PW: The concert is six movements—three long movements interspersed between which are three short movements from string quartets. The show features a pianist and four string players who send their music as signals to me directly, and I use electronic mixing equipment to process and shape their sounds in real time. There’s also a unique visual component to the piece which mirrors the electronic mixing, presenting everyday images that have been heavily abstracted. It’s the culmination of a year-long project that I did as the 2018 Fremont Bridge Composer in Residence.

AE: Can you tell me more about the Fremont Bridge Residency? What was it like to work creatively in that environment?

PW: It was such a cool opportunity to be able to write music in such a weird space. The northwest tower of the Fremont Bridge is a small office about twelve foot square, but with 360 degree windows all around. You can see out over the water and down to the ship canal. You can see Lake Union and the Aurora Bridge towering above, and Gas Works Park splayed out on the left. You can see over to Queen Anne Hill and down into Fremont proper. It’s a beautiful view. I was in there about 20 hours a week with my laptop, notebooks, and speakers working on music.

It’s noisy in there. Lots of it was from traffic. Whenever a bus would cross the bridge, the whole room would vibrate and shake. And then there were the actual movements of the bridge. Fremont Bridge is one of the busiest bridges in the country, with an average I think of 15 openings per day during the summer for everything from shipping traffic to sailboats. The operator in the south tower would have to call me on the intercom every time the bridge opened to make sure I was clear. So there were lots of distractions; you can imagine trying to write music in that context. It took me probably a good month or so to adapt, just to get to the point where I wasn’t hearing it anymore, and to be able to get back on my train of thought in between interruptions.

My hope was that the environment would sort of seep into my work through osmosis. If I had tried to write this piece while all isolated in my studio I think it would have come out entirely different, so I like to think that the environment has seeped into the thesis of the music.

AE: Was there a part of the bridge that you feel most influenced your work?

PW: One of the coolest parts was actually a safety orientation that I had to take. The Department of Transportation had to show me all the safety stuff related to the bridge, and part of that involved going on a full tour of all the inner workings. I got to go down into the bowels of the bridge and see all its mechanics, and while we were down there I got to stand in the middle of a pivot point while the bridge was opening.

There’s this fulcrum point that the whole half of the bridge tilts on. Behind that point, dug into the side of the hill, is a huge concrete counterweight. I stood on a gangplank between the two, totally open to the air with the water directly below me. The bridge started to open, and it felt like the whole planet had started to shift, and for a split second I had no real sense of up or down. It was a very disorienting and very interesting sensation. I wanted to recreate that feeling in my music—that intense feeling of disorientation followed by an adjustment that makes this strange and uncanny sensation suddenly feel normal.

AE: Where did the name Bascule come from?

PW: Bascule is a technical term for a drawbridge. Specifically, it’s what engineers call the type of bridge that the Fremont Bridge is—a Bascule bridge. But in my mind, this piece of music isn’t about all bridges or waterways but the Fremont Bridge specifically. I was inspired to apply for this Residency because I felt like I had something really unique to say that involved the Fremont Bridge.

The piece is my way of talking about a very difficult time in my life when I was living in that area. For me, there’s this really visceral connection between the Fremont Bridge and a period of my life when I was experiencing homelessness and dealing with severe depression and serious substance abuse issues. My hope is that this project sheds some light on these topics. The way we treat mental illness, substance abuse, and poverty is really unhealthy. A lot of people are affected really directly by them, but they’re issues we don’t really talk about directly. I want to help destigmatize these issues, to make people feel like they can talk about them and understand them.

As a result, this musical piece very intense. I’ve really tried to design an experience that presents an impression of how it felt to be in that place, and how lost and awful I felt. But I also think there’s moments of really extreme beauty and bittersweet moments in there. My hope is that by telling this story in such an abstract way, the audience can make their own connections and imbue their own sense of meaning with it.

AE: What do you hope that audiences can take away from this piece?

PW: The piece is certainly experimental, but in a lot of ways I think it’s also universal. We all experience periods where we go feel things similar to this. I feel like there’s a lot to identify with in this work, a basic sort of fundamental emotional understanding that we experience as humans. Everyone experiences their own version of the music. No two people’s take on this is going to be the same. But I hope that people respond to the intensity of what I’m making and come out of the concert with some feeling of solidarity, for the audience to feel supported by each other.

We can feel so isolated when we’re having these crises, these feelings of depression or even just all the difficult stuff that comes from being human. My goal with this concert is to create an experience that communicates what that’s like—to present something that everyone can identify with and show that no matter what you’re feeling or how strongly you feel it, you’re not alone.

Join us at Town Hall’s Great Hall on Thursday to hear Walsh’s piece. Tickets are free.

Town Hall Isn’t City Hall. City Hall Isn’t Town Hall.

I once asked Town Hall’s Ticketing Manager how often we get calls from people attempting to reach City Hall? “At least a couple per week. Maybe even one per day in the summer.” It didn’t take me long to wonder if City Hall got calls intended for us, and whether there was anything we could do to fix that. I had to know more. So in honor of the the 50th Annual Municipal Clerks Week I reached out to City Clerk Jaci Dahlvang, who answered questions all about phone call confusions and day-to-day life in city government.

AE: Can you tell me about a day in the life of a City Clerk? What roles do you play? What’s the most interesting aspect of your job?

JD: On any given day we can be found registering domestic partnerships, accepting claims for damages, explaining where a bill is in the legislative process, training folks on legislative research, or helping candidates begin the process of running for office. If you’ve ever signed a Seattle Initiative Measure, it was filed here first!

This office is also home to the Seattle Municipal Archives, a treasure trove of City records of enduring value. We can help you find out what the legislation says, but they can help you put it in context. I’m a huge nerd, so I love that I’m now a part of Seattle history. I wrote City Council meeting minutes during my first year here, so now my name is in bound volumes that will stay in the Archives forever. I also love puzzles, so any day that I get to dig in and help solve a legislative mystery with a researcher is a good day. We’re proud of the part we play in maintaining government transparency and supporting democracy in action.

I’m part of a team of Legislative Information Specialists. We are just one part of the Office of the City Clerk, but we are the face of the office. We’re the folks who answer calls, emails, and in person questions about City filings, the legislative process, and more.

AE: If there was one thing you wished people knew about City Clerks (or about city government in general) what would it be?

JD: That we exist! I didn’t know anything about City Clerks until I started working here. The City Clerk is a public officer who takes an oath of office, and some of the important responsibilities of the position include providing neutral stewardship of the legislative and election processes, as well as supporting meeting and record management requirements, all in service of civic engagement and transparency.

City Clerks are often the first point of reference in a city, though Seattle has the tremendous folks in the Customer Service Bureau as well. In addition to the services above, the Office of the City Clerk also manages official filings from departments across the city and, of course, assists city staff with their research, which means we have a broad awareness to help direct the public.

We have many online resources, including title records of legislation all the way back to 1869. Old legislation and filings are fascinating; they are the record of Seattle figuring out what it values as a city.

Also, searching for animal-related terms is a gold mine. One of my favorite records is a collection of protests against stabling horses in the basement of the Opera House during the World’s Fair.

Also, not enough people know about our research room! Come on in and look at City Council records on microfiche (it’s not scary, we promise) or check out holdings from the Archives. We love showing people our discoveries, and we love learning from your questions.

AE: How often do you get calls intended for Town Hall? What do you usually tell them?

JD: It is more common for us to get calls intended for the courts or for the County. In short, we handle records related to the City and the County handles records related to people. We’ll always do our best to get people where they need to be! It’s hard to say, because we get so many calls that are not intended for us!

AE: What’s the most memorable conversation you’ve had with a Town Hall caller?

JD: My favorite calls are from people looking to make change, be they residents looking to file an initiative or connect with their councilmember, or officials from other jurisdictions looking to replicate legislation Seattle has passed. Helping lead other cities, or guide them with our history, is always satisfying.

AE: If you could put on your own Town Hall talk, what would it be about?

JD: I’m a year-round volunteer for SIFF and I write a film blog, so mine would probably film related. My team could speak on digital equity, family history as local history, how to fight City Hall (but not the people who work there), the history of clerks, and Ranganathan’s Five Laws of Library Science as adapted for the government context (this is something we discuss a lot as a team).

AE: To help alleviate the confusion, is there any chance City Hall could change its name? What would you change it to?

JD: It looks like City Hall is only mentioned once by name in the Seattle Municipal Code, so that wouldn’t involve as many amendments as I’d feared. Though to be fair, City government has had a City Hall off and on since the late 1800s, and you’ve only been Town Hall since 1998, so maybe we should reconsider who’s responsible for the confusion!

AE: Is there anything else you’d like to add? Any final thought you would like to leave us with?

JD: We always want people more involved in their city government, and we welcome all your questions! If you like information, and lots of it—in great detail—we hope you’ll stop by or give us a call.

 

There’s plenty going on at Town Hall and at City Hall—and both are here to make Seattle a better place. Just be sure you call the right one!

Town Hall Seattle: 206-652-4255

Office of the City Clerk: 206-684-8344

Arts & Action To Better Our Community

Can arts change our communities like they change our lives? ArtsFund will share pivotal research from their first-ever Social Impact of the Arts Study in King County on May 17 at Town Hall’s newly renovated Forum. Town Hall asked Sarah Sidman, ArtsFund VP of Strategic Initiatives and Communications to interview KUOW’s Marcie Sillman about the study and the impact of the arts.

Marcie Sillman and Sarah Sidman

Sidman’s recent interview with Sillman is below:

It’s a pivotal moment for King County. We’re experiencing rapid economic and demographic growth while simultaneously grappling with pressing challenges around education, homelessness, healthcare and mental health, workforce development, and income inequality. On May 17th, Town Hall and ArtsFund are presenting “Arts & Action to Better Our Community”, a panel discussion and civic dialogue focused how arts advance positive and equitable outcomes in our community.  I’ll be sharing findings from our new Social Impact of the Arts Study, followed by a panel and discussion examining how we can harness the impact of the arts to address these challenges and advance community priorities. The panel will feature Randy Engstrom, James Miles, Vivian Phillips, and Jay Vogelsang, and will be moderated by Marcie Sillman, Arts & Culture reporter at KUOW who has been covering the sector in King County for more than 30 years.

I recently sat down with Marcie to talk about the program, arts’ social impact and the potential for making positive change in our community, and the urgency around having conversations like this one.

SS: What’s your passion around the topic of arts’ social impact? Why are you involved in this program?

MS: I’m involved because I respect ArtsFund. My passion goes beyond the social impact of arts. I have a passion for the arts and cultural realm of society in general. If you want to narrow it down to talk about social impact, I truly believe that ‘art outlives politics’. I think this is a realm where what can happen is changing lives. I think the way that you really make change is to touch somebody in the most ineffable of ways. An artistic experience can do that. And, more than that, there’s a whole lot of scientific study that talks about neural pathway development and creative problem-solving. So, scientists are on the side of what I always knew.

SS: You’ve said before, and just alluded to it now, that the ArtsFund study reinforces what you’ve seen to be true…can you elaborate?

MS: Over many years, I’ve done a lot of stories that talk about community engagement, or as I was just saying, creative problem-solving. Most of them have an educational focus, but also community-building. Participation in something as simple as singing together can create new kinds of communities, where maybe they didn’t exist before. The results of your impact study confirm all these stories. I’m like, ‘well, of course!’.

SS: You’ve been covering arts and culture in our region for over 30 years. Over the course of that time, what do you think is unique about the Central Puget Sound arts and cultural landscape and how it has evolved?

MS: I think we don’t really understand the breadth and the quantity of what we have. We have everything! I think the cultural community is so varied. We’re rich in areas like contemporary dance, we’re a center for literature, we’re clearly a center for theatre, visual arts as well. This is a center where people come. I think what’s unique about our community in all areas, is a willingness to collaborate and work together. So, what I’ve seen is both a growth in what’s offered, but also a community that has a lot of mutually supportive elements. A third strand of change that touches on social impact, is that when I first started reporting on the cultural community here, it was on individual productions or individual artists. I still do that, but what I see now is less of a divide between professional performances or professional artists and community-based arts and arts that come from growing immigrant communities for example.

SS: The scope of partnership was one element that we uncovered in the study—4 out 5 arts nonprofits are working together with partners outside the sector, with schools, city departments, refugee and immigrant organizations, hospitals and clinics, senior centers, and so much more. How do these trends that you just mentioned plug in to this conversation?

MS: Based on close observation over a long time, what I’ve seen is more intentional partnerships from big organizations, like the Seattle Symphony working with Mary’s Place on the Lullaby Project. The Seattle Art Museum is a great example as well, of really being much more strategic in the kind of partnerships that it’s building with intention to make social change. I think there’s a growing awareness across the city in all sectors that they don’t just exist on an island; that they’re part of an ecosystem—and for an ecosystem to remain healthy all parts of it have to be healthy. Arts organizations are doing what they can to really be intentional about building that health.

SS: What are some ways you’ve seen the arts and cultural sector take on community challenges?

MS: That has started in the Office of Arts and Culture. I think under Randy Engstrom’s leadership the Office of Arts and Cultures’ main mission is to use culture in all of its forms to foster social and racial justice and equity in this city. To have that city department setting the tone sends a message all the way down the line. They’re modeling what they think organizations can do and I see that reflected in the kinds of offerings at major professional organizations.

SS: Where do you see ArtsFund plugging in?

MS: Clearly ArtsFund has played a major role in the health of the city. Before we can even have the social impact conversation, there have to be organizations to have that conversation. So, I think what you do has been pivotal in really shining a spotlight on why arts and culture really matter to our region. If you were not developing board members, if you were not providing funding, if you were not holding organizations up to a certain level of health, the conversations that ensued could not exist.

I think that this study is the next step. I think one of your roles is to try reach beyond the community itself, and try to fold in community members who, as you found in your survey, have attended arts events but who may not think that arts are critical in any aspect of their life. I think your role, if you have the means to do the kinds of studies you have done, is to have hard numbers. Data seems to speak to a large portion of our citizenry in ways that maybe stories of the heart don’t. I may be able to touch 10 people who don’t need the statistics, but the statistics in our data driven society really seem to make an impact.

SS: Why do you think it’s important we be having these conversations now?

MS: Ever since 2008 with the great recession, arts organizations have been really struggling to rebuild their funding. I think that they’re also trying to figure out how to expand their audience base and provide programming that speaks to an increasingly diverse population. In doing so, to make these cultural entities and cultural activities something that is indispensable in our society. I think we need to talk about the social impacts. I think we need to talk about economic impacts. I think we need to talk about community ties. I think we need to talk about what the arts say about who we are. We have increasingly diverse populations that are coming from places and bringing their own cultural traditions with them and they’re important, they’re touchstones. I think every conversation about why arts and culture are intrinsic to who we are as human beings is important. We can’t have enough of those conversations!

SS: You’re the professional interviewer—what should we have asked you? Anything else you wanted to say?

MS: I’m glad that this event is happening, I expect it will be a really fruitful conversation because there are some great minds who are going to be on the panel. Arts and cultural activities not only make us richer and well-rounded human beings, but as you’ve shown, they really do change lives.

Join us at Town Hall on May 17th to continue the conversation. You can purchase your tickets now.

The artwork atop this blog post is entitled ‘Seattle Artist’s Magic’, created by Taylor Hammes.

We Are All Made of Stars: A Brief Conversation with Moby

What do you do when you realize you have everything you think you’ve ever wanted but still feel completely empty? In the summer of 1999, Moby released the album Play, arguably the album that defined the millennium and propelled him to stardom. But then it all fell apart. He’ll discuss the second volume of his memoir, Then It Fell Apart, on May 10 at Seattle First Baptist Church. You can get your tickets now. Before he hits the stage, he sat down to chat with Town Hall’s marketing manager, Jonathan Shipley.

JS: I was curious as to how you navigated and navigate friendships, pre-fame and post. Post-fame you must be leery of anyone befriending you, asking yourself, ‘What do they want from me?’ Friendships you made before you were famous must have been hard to navigate as you became a star.

M: It’s not so much that I question people’s’ motives, it’s more that pre-fame friendships tend to be based around shared circumstances and frames of reference which makes friendships more effortless. It can be hard to navigate resentments and bitterness on the part of old friends.

JS: What celebrities that you’ve hung out with have been positive influences on your life? Which ones, not so much?

M: David Bowie, Lou Reed, and David Lynch have all been wonderful, positive friendships. I’ll avoid that second question—I don’t need more enemies.

JS: Now that you’re on the other side of fame, what skills do you wish you had developed before becoming famous?

M: I honestly have no regrets, nor do I wish I’d done anything differently. I’m grateful for the weird life and perspective I have. Life and perspective are, by definition, the product of the circumstances that led to them.

JS: What did you wish you did differently after Play blew up?

M: Nothing. I love the mistakes I’ve made, as they’ve taught me more than any of the things I ended up doing reasonably well.

JS: Having ‘fallen apart,’ what are you most proud of about yourself after the fact?

M: That I can still, at times, string sentences together.

JS: Are there ways that being a music celebrity better than being, say, an actor?

M: In a way it’s better that I have a lot of creative autonomy. A musician’s work can generally be more bespoke, personal, and sui generis.

JS: You mention being sad and lonely before Play. Post Play, did that amplify it or diminish it? In what ways?

M: Curing loneliness post-Play became compulsive, at least until I got sober.

JS: What sort of emotional connections to audiences are you hoping to make with your music?

M: Ideally, a connection based in honesty, shared experience of the human condition, and service. That might sound cliché, but it’s true.

See Moby discuss his life, and maybe he’ll play a tune or two, on May 10. Get your tickets here.

Also, according to Moby’s Twitter feed, he’s the adopted son of John Waters. John Waters will be at Town Hall on May 29. You should attend that, too! Tickets are on sale now.

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