The Great Change: Turning Cathy into a Lawyer

If you've known me since before 2003 you're going to want to sit down for this post, preferably somewhere comfortable that you won't fall out of, as what I'm about to say is likely to come as something of a shock. People who've met me more recently may already have an inkling about what I've been up to, or at least will find it less mind-blowing to discover. But so far off the radar is it from anything I've ever been thought to aspire to that it may throw people who've known me a long time for a loop when I tell them. (It usually does.)

Anyway, without further ado, here goes: did you know I've been writing songs? And singing them publicly?

Moreover, did you know that this is something I learned to do in law school?

OK, pull yourself together. Stop laughing, crying, choking or doing whatever you're doing and pick your jaw up off the floor. It's true. The Great Change has wrought all sorts of changes, and it's finally time to talk about this one too.

It happened by accident, I suppose. Back in 2003 a few things converged: one, that I discovered I could sing in public. In the months before law school I was working at the Electronic Frontier Foundation, and one evening for a team-building activity they did a karaoke night at some place in the Mission. I had to try it - after all, my hero Huey Lewis was once in a movie about karaoke, and of course I had to try to be like him... Naturally I did a HLN song, "Power of Love," but the musical track was terrible - all synthesizer, the wrong key, and the disc skipped! After having worked up the courage to get up on stage and sing, it turned out completely anticlimactic. So I did another, this time an Air Supply song. And afterwards, I sensed being more sincere than merely polite, people actually said I was good.

The second thing that happened was that I saw all those Johnny Colla concerts. Now, I also subsequently saw all those Huey Lewis and the News concerts too, and though I like to joke that "Something must have rubbed off," HLN collectively have never really inspired me to do what they do. Well, maybe when I was 12 I thought becoming a rock star was a good idea... But I never really had a non-teenybopper aspiration to follow in their footsteps. Johnny Colla's solo work, on the other hand, seemed to have had a different effect on me. To be Huey Lewis and the News would be impossible: they have an enormously thick and complex band sound, with 6-9+ musical threads being woven together at all times. My middling musicianship could never come close to replicating that. However Johnny's solo music was more accessible: a melody line sitting on top of some rhythmic and harmonic support. I don't mean to diminish his music - it's not unsophisticated. But I could more easily see what was going on and think that maybe I could do the same.

The third thing was a weird conversation I had with an ex-boyfriend shortly before I moved to Boston that had left me with some very conflicted feelings. I remember on the flight out to look for my apartment writing down my thoughts. Pretty easily - surprisingly easily - they came out looking fairly poetic without being too contrived or melodramatic (which was unusual, because so often in the past what I would have produced under similar circumstances would have been complete tripe). In fact they pretty much looked like song lyrics, but who was I kidding: me writing words wasn't really such a stretch, but music? I decided not to worry about it. I'd write down the words and maybe someday find someone who could set them to music. Except it turned out I didn't need to wait. Once I was done and read them back, they sang themselves back to me. There was no choice - this was their melody. Without realizing it, it turns out I'd written my first song.

Once you've written one the ice is broken and it's easier to write more. So I wrote a few more that 1L year. And then another thing happened, pivotal to all this: "Coffeehouse."

"Coffeehouse" was a semesterly (or so) event sponsored by the student bar association. A lounge would be taken over, snacks provided, and there would be an open mic. Which, tentatively at first, I signed up to use to try out these new songs.

It went well. Or, as I usually term it, "Nobody fled." On the contrary, lots of people said lots of nice things. In fact, soon I was being asked to perform. It seems that I could write songs and sing them in public. Who knew?

Or at least I could sing them in law school. What about a wider audience?

It was one of my goals in moving to Marin County to find out. Marin County is the home of many musical greats, including my musical heros HLN, and, well, if I could make it there I could make it anywhere... The idea was to do open mic at the hallowed Sweetwater and follow in all these amazing people's footsteps. But one thing led to another and nearly a year had gone by without having gotten around to doing it. Suddenly, though, my hand was forced when the Sweetwater threatened to close. Within a week, I was signed up for an open mic slot. And I stood on the stage that so many incredible talents had stood on, and I sang my songs.

I'm hardly a vocal virtuoso. Between 6th grade chorus and the EFF karaoke night I had never sung in public. In fact I'd hardly sung on my own at all, not since my nursery school teacher had noticed me singing my little "Clean up time! Clean up time for everyone!" ditty I liked to sing during clean up time and told me to stop... It's an extremely untrained voice of limited range, but, on the upside, it turns out I can carry a tune. A capella, even. Which is important, because my limited musicianship prevents me from accompanying myself with anything else. The instrument I can play most competently is the violin, but it's been years since I've played it and, anyway, it's hard to sing and play the violin at the same time. I quit piano lessons at age 10 so keyboards are out, and I never did figure out how to play the guitar. So, lacking other options, I just stand up there and sing.

And nobody flees. It turns out, I think, that you get a lot of points just for showing up... But I also don't feel that people are just being polite. When I sing, apart from my singing you can practically hear a pin drop as people stay engaged in my words. And that's why I can do this. Performing in public - singing in public - is a very scary thing, but, oddly, I'm not actually scared. I get nerves, I suppose, but it's more from unregulated anticipatory jolts of adrenaline as opposed to fear. I'm really surprisingly fearless about this. It's like, these are my words, this is my story and this is a my truth. Like it or don't like it, but you can't take that truth away from me.

I also have surprisingly little ego tied up in this, although I suppose the more I talk about it the more that's changing. I'm a lawyer, after all, what do I need with all this? I could completely screw it up, and life would go on.

The Sweetwater has now closed (although it's set to rise again), but there are other open mic nights which I've done. Twice I've performed at the Larkspur Cafe Theater, owned by the same people who own the Sweetwater, and I have to say that it's a wonderful thing about Marin County that it is so nurturing of local arts. This is why it was so important to save the Sweetwater, so creative people could have a stage somewhere to perform.

And then last night I performed at the Caffe Trieste in Sausalito, sibling to the one in San Francisco that was famous for being a haven for the North Beach beatniks. I fit right in, and I was reminded of one of the reasons for why I think I'm going to keep doing this: I love the reaction. It really is a rush to perform; I'd never realized that before because I'd never really experienced it before. Of course, while clapping is nice, I think the reaction I really like is laughter.

I have about eight songs now. Most of them can properly induce a chuckle in certain spots, but only one is completely silly. I think I'd like to write more silly songs, but in general I'd like to write more songs period. It's been a while since I've been able to channel any. That really seems to be the word, "channel." A good song has a certain perfection to it, as if language was created just so one day all these words could be assembled together in just this way. It's hard to be so immodest as to believe you had somehow "created" a song; it's more like you received it and just didn't get in the way.

Anyway, I need more because I have a plan. In fact, as far back as 2003 I've had this plan: I want to sing them into my computer, slap on a Creative Commons license, and release them on a CD. I've gotten really annoyed by all the rhetoric over recent years whining about how tight copyright laws have to be or else no one will create. The economics are overstated - creative people will create no matter what. I can see that from my experience. But part of the reason I wanted to do this is that if I'm going to take a position on copyright policy it seemed like it would be good to have some skin in the game, as it were.

And, of course, if this lawyer thing doesn't work out, it will be good to have "rock star" to fall back on...

We'll see how this goes, as I can't force the creativity to happen. But it's been a fun diversion and a huge confidence boost. It's a great - and fairly new - feeling to see someone else perform and be able to say to myself, "Hey, I can do that too!" Maybe not perfectly, deftly, or melodiously - but bravely. And I have to say that there's another upside to all this: suddenly plain old public speaking is much easier. After all, at least then I don't need to sing...

Photo by Larry Burgess.