Written by Aaron Wilder. Header courtesy of Danielle Johnson (@dani_design04)
As adults, we’re told we must be independent, no one is going to hold our hand like when we were children. But, with the number of stresses coming from all angles, can anyone be at fault for wanting such outside comfort? I certainly don’t think so. It can come from a multiple of places, old movies, games, tv shows. Who knew it could also be found at Arnold Hall on April 16 with a performance by artist and music journalist, Sylvie Simmons.
Her instrument of choice was the ukulele. With accompaniment by a harmonic accordion and a sweet electric bass, her songs flowed like lullabies as she played. Combine that with the low-level lighting and cushioned seating of the auditorium, it was a wonder no one was soothed to sleep.
What made it all the more calming was the refreshing authenticity to Simmons’ show. During “Hard Act to Follow,”and a cover of Leonard Cohen’s “Bird on the Wire,” she fumbled a few cords. Rather than have it make an awkward moment, she cracked jokes. She laughed at herself, and let the audience laugh with her. In those moments, we weren’t passive audience members and a musician; we were family.
Before each song she would tell a little tale of its background, what or who inspired it—and jokes found their way here, too, like how her song “Midnight Cowboy” came from seeing the cover of a DVD. Or how a hand injury caused her to make up chords for “Sweet California.” She mentioned how she listened to Cohen as a child, and even her interviews with him. With her big pigtailed gray hair, and soft British accent that cradled the ear, these parts gave me the impression of a grandmother telling stories to those willing to listen—even if she’s been a rock journalist for the past 40 years—and this audience sure was.
After the ironically fitting song “Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye,” there was a short Q&A session. Here, she went into more detail of her past, what she had gathered through her work, and insights into her writing process. There were points when she had to have questions repeated, but even then there was no uncomfortable awkwardness. People paid no mind, and before long it was time to go.
This particular performance was only a brief respite—lasting from 6-7 p.m.—away from the hectic outside. That’s really the biggest complaint I could possibly have. But brief may be how it should be. After all, the greatest comforts should never overstay their welcome, lest they fall flat. When it comes to Sylvie Simmons and her music, I doubt they ever could. So whenever possible, pop in, take a seat, and let her music wrap around you.
