I haven’t written about live music events, but I have so many thoughts about the show from last night, that I had to write them down. Even as I do that, they feel scattered. But maybe that’s part of good music—the ability not only to center you, but to send you on that journey with all the twists and turns, jerks and joys, the centering and cathartic moments.
In the late 90s, Dad and I sat in his living room, chatting. At some point, (and I cannot remember what led us to the topic), he offhandedly dismissed current popular singers, and in doing so, said something about them not being true artists, adding, “like Jewel.” (He may have even rolled his eyes at that point.)
I sat upright on the couch that was always my spot in his living room when it was just the two of us visiting, head jerking to face him in his chair, saying, “Hold on. No, no, no; Jewel is a genuine artist.” He countered that although she had a beautiful voice, and sure, she was a great singer, but that wasn’t the same as being an actual artist; she was just a singer. (No, we did not get into the point of voice as art. Or recording artists. Or the amazing gift and talent that is required for harmony. I merely wanted to correct Dad that Jewel did do more than record someone else’s music. The other battles for clarification would have to wait. ; ) )
I may have sputtered a bit, wanting somehow to repair this misunderstanding of an artist whose first album I knew almost by heart. I corrected him and shared that she did write (or co-write) her own music. Lyrics and music. She was an absolute artist, I demanded. He snapped his head and looked at me with that surprise/quizzical look he could muster so well when needed. Maybe I even again reasserted my defense of Jewel. Maybe he asked for assurance. Maybe I offered more. But then his demeanor changed. He admitted he had not known that. He took back his former statement. And I could see him genuinely, right then, change his opinion.
I suspect it was by reading the insert in that first CD of hers that I learned Jewel wrote her music. (What do people do now? I suppose it’s all on the Internet, yes?) There was no better after-the-break-up song that You Were Meant for Me. There was no better need-to-break-up song than Foolish Games. There was no better what-am-I-doing song for a girl in her late twenties, figuring out a new path, than Who Will Save Your Soul? And there was no better beautiful love-in-the-moment-and-joy-in-each-other song than Morning Song.
She performed all of these songs last night (my first time to see Jewel live), speaking directly to those of us who were fans early. She mixed in other songs from the past twenty years—Hands, such a haunting piece of hope; Intuition, that foray into the pop world she made, and others. Her set was sandwiched between her opening with an a cappella perfect rendition of Over the Rainbow, and her encore seemed to be an aria, no doubt a nod to her grandmother who was hopeful opera singer before leaving her life in Switzerland to marry the bachelor who’d made his way across Alaska. Jewel then delighted me and many in the audience with amazing yodeling. Yes, yodeling. (You caught that Swiss heritage, yes?)
But before Jewel ever stepped onstage, her voice filled the theater as she recited some of her poetry. Her words. She talked in this piece about the place she is in her life, referencing changes to her form from childbirth to her d-i-v-o-r-c-e, moving on to later spell out unapologetic; that was perfect. Perfect. At least two other times, the lights dimmed and Jewel’s silhouette was shown as her voice carried more of her poetry. It was moving and beautiful. And it mattered. It was, indeed, great art. As I listened, as so many of her words rang true inside of me in one way or another, I thought of my father, and I smiled.
In the past couple of weeks, I’ve listened to her new album a few times, before last night. And when the playlist first got to The Shape of You, I was on a walk. And I stopped in my tracks, held fast by the ache brought forth by the words; one of those moments of grief that hits you from behind without notice. My connection to Dad with this artist and having lost him less than four years ago gurgled up from somewhere deep and it crashed hard into the raw, fresh grief over Mom’s death, not even six weeks ago that day I heard the song. I choked back the hurt and the loss. I listened. I wept inside over having no parents, one of those things that is the hardest to move through some days. But as I listened, as I thought about the bitter, I thought too how sweet the memories are. I thought about how much I smile when I think of either of them. And I was wonderfully comforted that although these two holes in my heart are there, to me, they are making my heart stronger; those parts left strengthening what’s left in order to carry forward.
During Jewel’s show last night, then, when the song started, I steeled myself, knowing my emotional reaction. Of course, hearing her perform it live, the reaction was deeper. But as tears began to stream down my face as she sang The Shape of You, I thought of that line from her poem earlier, and unapologetically, I let those tears fall, streaking my face. And listening to Jewel’s words, her lyrics, and to this beautiful voice, I was okay:
There’s a hole in my heart
and I’ll carry it wherever I go
Like a treasure that travels with me down every road.
There’s this longing, lonesome and deep,
Kind of bitter;
It’s kind of sweet.
There’s a hole in my heart in the shape of you.
Even though my heart aches,
There’s a smile on my face
Just like a window to heaven
There’s a light shining through.
Dad. Mom.
Ah—— Jewel’s gift for poetry and lyrics and music carries also into a gift for storytelling. Among other delightful stories, she shared the journey she was on when she and her friend Steve Poltz wrote You Were Meant for Me, evoking great laughter from the audience as she perfectly set the stage for this story of two youngsters near Tijuana happening upon some federales on a mission to make a drug bust. So funny!
As we left the show, a gentleman behind us said, “This is the best show I’ve ever seen here.” And what a show. What a gift Jewel has. In the past twenty years, her art and gifts have expanded in a way that show the strength she has developed, the resolve she maintains, the character she has, the woman she is.
I applaud her for picking up the pieces. And I thank her for sharing her gifts.