When listening to music, I find myself focusing solely on the audio. I have a blatant deficit of pop music knowledge, and I think this correlates directly with disassociating music with the musician’s own life, image, and story. Without the inescapable press that so many pop musicians receive, I do not seek out the absent visual identities of artists whom I dedicate my ears to so frequently. I often know little beyond even the names of my favorite musicians, no matter how many times I find myself replaying an album from start to finish. And yet, I still feel that I have an incredible amount of personal and emotional attachment to their music, often tied so closely to specific feelings and memories. But am I ignorant to deeper layers of the listening experience by diverting so much focus away from the person behind the sounds? If I were to really understand an artist and their background, and attempt to empathize with their situations at the time of composition, would their music become even more meaningful? What happens when a persona is added to a musical experience, and the life of the artist and their music become intertwined into the listener’s experience?
Since Colin Hay’s spectacular performance on Sunday night at the Ark, these thoughts have prodded me. He was not just a musician on the stage, checking off song after song. Half of Colin’s time was spent telling stories of himself, often brutally honest and endlessly funny in his humble self-deprecating manner. I walked into the Ark knowing Colin Hay as a gifted singer and guitarist. I had a deep love for three of his songs in particular, Waiting For My Real Life To Begin, Overkill, and I Just Don’t Think I’ll Ever Get Over You (each of which he performed that evening). Beyond this, I only knew what I had researched in order to write a preview for the event. Even his thick Scottish accent was a surprise to me, for it seems to disappear when he sings. But after his opener, Colin so naturally slipped into a tale of his brief bout with alcoholism, eventually leading him from Australia to Los Angeles to restart his life. The kind humor laced within his tragic situations made apparent a fresh optimism and hopefulness he brings to every relationship and situation in his life.
Beginning at the close of each song, Colin continued to storytell. He seemed to elaborate on whatever his last or next song sparked within him. He told of the still-open wounds from losing his parents, and conversely of moments with fans who blindly criticized his performance in the third person because he conveniently failed to mention to them that he, in fact, was the subject of their opinions. Colin was an open book on Sunday, inviting the audience into his life, and igniting laughter at regular intervals. His anecdotes often prefaced the mood for each song, perfectly introduced by gentle guitar strumming partway through every story. Even if an audience member were to leave after the second song, I am confident that they would still have a warm handle on the man behind such an ageless voice. His personality was apparent even with the projected visuals that brightened the backdrop for each song, which ranged from moving graphics to panning views of nature. This interesting (and sometimes unintentionally comical) nuance to each song only further highlighted Colin’s dynamic character.
And what did this unique window into the man behind the sounds do for the music itself? For me, it simply struck home! As previously mentioned, though a lover of a few specific tunes, I really was not that familiar with Colin’s larger repertoire before the concert. And often, before I can really connect with or develop a craving for songs, I must first dedicate time to listening to them repeatedly. But for Colin, despite the fact that so much of his music was new to me, I felt internal emotional tugs throughout his pieces. His personality set the stage and laid down a baseline groundwork for connecting with each of his songs. It seemed only natural that each story would slip unobstructed into music. This was perfectly representative when Colin shared memories of his favorite moments driving around lost with his mom, and having simple conversations with his dad as a child. Dear Father seamlessly followed, a song I had never heard before. As a result, I’ve been thinking about this tune, which swept a sad yet warm internal blanket upon me, ever since.
I do not think I’ll be able to remove the wonderful aura that is Colin from the name I used to only know as a label for sounds which I enjoyed. Now I have no question that this is a very good thing. While there may still be worth in experiencing music for solely the audio form for which it is produced, I now see that reminding the listener of the humanness behind the artwork can provide entirely new insights into the interpretation of a song. Colin’s openness on stage made for a concert where audience-performer intimacy existed on an unprecedented level. Colin Hay is the entire package- musician, story teller, singer, guitarist, comedian, and a humble and caring human. To feel that so fully, even in the back row at the Ark, seemed to patch all of my current qualms with humanity. And I can bring that feeling back now every time I press play.
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Eva Roos is a senior at the University of Michigan, receiving a Major in Art & Design with Minors in Environment and Music.
