Reverence and Soul

Last week the mighty Tin Pan was asked to perform a set at a wake. I spoke at length to the person who was helping put together the ceremony. It’s a tough, emotionally charged time for certain. I asked him what it was that the family would want exactly as I was having a hard time discerning the proper tone for what we’d be doing. I explained the traditional use of music in New Orleans funerals: on the way to cemetery the band plays mournful dirges and on the way back the music turns towards joyous spirituals. I learned that the departed loves jazz music and was a saxophone player. He said he wasn’t sure what he wanted but he trusted us to find the right music that would suit the event. On top of this, half of the family was Jewish and the idea of us being part of sitting Shiva was strange. Traditionally no music is allowed. I didn’t want to offend.

We arrived at the appointed hour and there were about 100 people gathered around their dear departed who was laying in state at the front of the room. Speeches continued for nearly an hour – everyone taking their turn describing and reminiscing with much love in their voices. This seemed like an honorable, fun-loving, kind, crafty guy. We set ourselves up in a connecting but adjacent room with about 40 chairs in it. It was like the spill-over room for the main event.

Our first number was “The Old Rugged Cross,” but as an instrumental. Serene, sad, uplifting, and played beautifully by Stefan and I on the horns. We had opened the door for music without reproach and with a good feeling in the room. We proceeded to play, “Bie Mir Bist Du Schoën,” again without lyrics. An old timer from the Jewish side of the family recognized the melody and commented about to his friend. “I know that tune. That’s Bie Mir Bist Du Schoen. L. loved that song.” An educated guess. We proceeded like this for a while playing spirituals in major keys in a slow and stately way and playing the minor songs with a perky lift so they wouldn’t feel to heavy.

The room was getting looser and I called, “Down By The Riverside” and introduced the voice into the mix. From the moment I started singing the majority of people in the room started to clap along on the back beat. Gospel feeling of rejoicing and reverence and smiling ensued. About 30 minutes later we closed with a song I wrote about my own dear departed great-aunt Alice.

It’s not that the vibe in the room was joyous per se. Or even happy. It was mournful but there was definitely the feeling of comfort and solace that we were allowing everyone to experience. It was a beautiful thing.

I am so proud of my band for helping me to create this tone at this event. We didn’t know what to expect going into it. We had no idea what was really required of us as it was impossible for us to articulate it beforehand. That we all discovered it together and were able to be comforting, provide solace, and to manifest reverence for the departed is definitely playing against type for Tin Pan. We are usually the irreverent, bombastic and rough ones. I am really thrilled that we could be open enough to take the right shape for what was required.

Another dear friend, Ann, who has also passed on, once commented about me that she loved the way, like water, I could pour myself into any situation and take on its shape. I am so happy to find myself able to do that with Tin Pan as well when the situation requires it. I suppose this story is as banal as saying that it was a rough room but we figured out how to make it work. It seems more than that to me though, for the those vibes of solace and comfort that we rarely get called on to provide.