Keeping Vermont Music Alive
Vermont is about to reach three months of living under COVID restrictions on June 15. Three months is a long time, as many can attest, and the current social abnormalities have become normal. You may have even begun to appreciate the benefits of social distancing: late mornings, no need to make small talk with strangers, and pajamas have become the apparel of choice for any situation. You’ve probably also learned a new recipe, tried yoga, attempted to paint Mt. Mannsfield, and maybe read one or two or three romantic novels about star-crossed lovers sailing for Mykonos or some other far away place with warmer waters and a less flannel.
Regardless of what you have done and have enjoyed, we at Big Heavy World know there are some things missing from our lives. Things involving microphones, amplifiers, and large, disease-carrying crowds.
As we’ve all retreated into our homes, live music has disappeared from stages around the world. No writer can describe music spilling out onto streets. No one can hear the twang of a banjo or crash of a cymbal without that sound first morphing into bits and bytes and traveling through a thousand miles of cable.
Like many other industries, the music industry has undergone a culture shock. With normal live performances off the table, artists have been forced to adapt in new ways.
“I typically perform live at least weekly, often multiple nights per week. Once cancellations started rolling in I had to figure out what to do. Performing live music is my favorite thing in the world and to be without it during such an uncertain time was not at all appealing,” says musician Sarah King.
“I dove right into live-streaming and figured I'd learn as I went, which I totally did. My first live streams were on every platform and every device in my house. I used the laptop and computer mics with room sound. I have very weak rural internet. Needless to say, I learned a lot the hard way, but I'm glad I got right to it.”
Live-streams have formed the new backbone of the music profession. Artists and venues have found new and inventive ways of replacing live performances.
DJ Craig Mitchell has moved his usually club routine to Big Heavy World’s studio, where he streams his Queerantine show. Local artist Jason Baker was scheduled to perform a show in Philadelphia, but recorded a live-stream for the venue instead after the in-person show had been canceled. Alex Budney of Seth Yacovone Band and Al’s Pals has utilized his backyard and basement as a stage and recording studio respectively.
Artists have had to learn new skills, workarounds, and programs to keep delivering for their fans, as Sarah King reports:
“I've learned how to use an encoder to tighten up the stream on the slow internet and dialed down how many platforms I used at once. I found a cable that worked and allowed me to plug my guitar and mic into my amp, then into my computer, for a much better sound. I borrowed wifi from a friend with fiber internet for a while so I could work the kinks out.”
The National Independent Venue Association, which represents independently owned venues, estimates that 90% of small venues like Nectar’s and Higher Ground will not survive under current restrictions against social gatherings for longer than six months. With this in mind, finding new ways of delivering music and generating income become imperative.
Higher Ground has been delivering regular live-streams with success. They report reaching an audience of over half a million people through Facebook streams, 20,000 people through Instagram streams, and tens of thousands of views on individual videos. If these large viewerships can create sustaining business models remains to be seen.
Even prom went virtual this year, with DJ Craig Mitchell live-streaming the #VTstrong soundtrack from Big Heavy World’s studio. The stream gave high schoolers and their families a chance to celebrate together. Inspirational words were shared by the likes of Ben and Jerry, and Sameer from Young the Giant. The post-prom Promageddon stream reached #4 on MixCloud’s streaming service.
Live performances have certainly changed, but to call them disappearing would be a mistake.
Unlike live performances, composing and recording music remains mostly unfazed (although pop filters and microphones are receiving more care these days). One would figure that the isolation and silence would help composers by providing them with time to think. Artists and authors will often descend into self-isolation during the creative process, shunning friends, cellphones, social media, and all communication. They hide away in their room or office for weeks at a time. They forget to shave and ask that food be delivered to their door. Their friends worry about their health, but are afraid of approaching the artists and disturbing their concentration. Instead they maintain a conservative distance, likely of six or more feet, and hope that it will all be over soon.
So, in other words, the deep-composition process and quarantine are interchangeable states of being.
That said, quarantine does not always inspire musicians to write:
“I haven't had a ton of desire to compose,” says King, “I've been kicking around a song for a few weeks, and it'll probably finish writing itself shortly, but it has nothing to do with lockdown or the pandemic. I don't generally write about current events and I'm not feeling any real inspiration from the experience.”
All in all, Covid-19 has created a novel opportunity for Vermont musicians. The restrictions placed upon venues and musicians has forced them to get creative.
Although creatives tend to believe that rules are made to be broken, they can also serve as sources of inspiration. Green Eggs & Ham was written under a 50-word limit. Gadsby was written without the letter E. Lyrical songs are supposed to have choruses, verses, bridges. Poems begin with a restrictive form: limericks’ rhyme scheme, haikus’ 5-7-5, ghazals’ complex rhyming and assonance…
Every creative endeavor begins with establishing a framework. It is within frameworks that creativity flourishes.
What is Covid-19 but a new framework? An opportunity to create something never seen before.
Text by Luke Vidic.
Thumbnail by Amanda Rose.