The Oppenheimer Report 1/28/19

Today's self-righteous sermon is about music and connectedness. I’ve spoken often on my Lyrical Workers show about music as the universal language, and while I am by no means an expert, I do believe music is something which unifies people. I have learned a lot from relative strangers, and I am humbled by the knowledge of some of my listeners. When I began to do the show, four or five years ago, my mission was to introduce listeners to songs that I found interesting, from the perspective of a songwriter. I also wanted to learn about new songwriters myself. The more I learned the more I realized how little I know. Listeners filled in some gaps, introduced me to new artists, and generally widened my horizons, but I have only scratched the surface of what is out there. One must wade through a lot of mediocrity before one finds the exceptional. Gurf Morlix, my producer friend from Austin says that good music is everywhere. Regrettably it rarely finds its way to a mainstream audience, and it requires some effort to uncover. I could easily have been comfortable airing the good music with which I am already familiar, but that does not reflect growth.

I, like so many others who are not seeing a lot of sun these days, have been struggling in the winter doldrums. Yesterday afternoon, I drove over to the home of my friend Gina Horswood and her partner Atticus. They were hosting a house concert for artist Corin Raymond, a Toronto singer songwriter I’ve been wanting to meet since I first heard his music years ago. This concert was a great reason to get out of the house for a few hours. For around twenty years Corin was in a band with Sean Cotton, the man who lives five minutes away from me, and recently finished producing four of my songs. As the winter blues settled on this community like a damp, cold blanket, many of us needed a little music therapy. In my opinion, Corin is one of the best Canadian songwriters I’ve heard so far. He’s an excellent storyteller, a great word sculptor, and a passionate and convincing singer. That I got to see him perform at Gina’s house, to a receptive audience, was especially therapeutic. Gina and Christina Hutt, another talented local singer songwriter accompanied me with killer background vocals on my latest effort (produced by Sean) Watch For Wolves. Back to the house concert, these days I much prefer to see these live, bare-bones performances in an intimate setting rather than at a large venue. It makes me feel more connected to the artist. Had you told me thirty years ago that I’d prefer this style of concert, I’d have laughed in your face. I used to love stadium concerts.

After this early evening concert was over, I felt strangely lighter. I’d shared this excellent performance with a small group of like-minded music lovers, and I caught up with some of my friends in the music community. Generally, I felt like I’d been resuscitated from the blue flu. I harp a lot about the increasing alienation emerging in a society at once improved and plagued by technology. My friend Noah Zacharin and I spoke recently on the telephone about the dying art of communication, and the fact that no one writes letters anymore. I think there is an erosion in community that accompanies this inability to communicate. I also believe that the universal communication music provides is unifying, and by giving complete strangers common ground it creates a sense of community. It is why I am so supportive of the radio station; by its existence, it builds a community. Good music is something to be shared, and if it can make a group of complete strangers happy, regardless of their race, color, or creed, isn’t that a good thing?

  - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2019 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED