Talking Music with that Weird Chick

[no_leaf]

It's afternoon in Hamtramck. Someone walks out of a corner cafe, a bakery with a colorful striped awning... and music spills out, voice and guitar, the voice familiar. The snow is still coming down heavily, as it has for two days now. But inside a few places in this part of town, lonely people gather to share warmth while the big flakes pile up outside. The plows are running, but only intermittently, and only on major roads.

Maya plays a swift-moving accompaniment, something with a sense of flow and repetition. Her voice is a little husky, today, perhaps from the weather.

    "...somewhere the rain will still fall,
    will still fall from the sky."

That voice! It takes Mack only a measure and a half to mark that voice as familiar, and so it draws her inside that cafe rather quickly. Her knit cap is pulled down low and her jacket is pulled up high, and despite the warmth inside, she remains bundled as such to help keep the chances of her own recognition lowered, and hurries to take a seat at the furthest distance from where the singer performs. Today, she's mustering up her mental fortitude, and the serious look in her gaze relays that.

The song itself is... bright, somehow, and the music seems to meld with the warm camaraderie of the room. As before, it seems ever so slightly more hopeful, in here. People are talking to each other, even those who would normally be isolated; in one corner there's a laughing, quiet debate going on between a cop and a Rastafarian, of all things. It might not feel as strong as before, but the effect is definitely the same *flavor*: a positive energy that fills the room.

The singer's expression is far-seeing, with moments of a fond, wry smile surfacing now and then, a softness in her eyes. She begins the second verse with hardly any pause.

    "You know I don't believe it's true
    That in this world there's nothing new
    For darling, you have just begun
    Rivers flow and rivers run."

Mack draws in a breath and shakes her head in a small, uncertain gesture. As the song continues, she stands up from her seat and moves toward the counter to order a coffee. Her voice is quiet as she makes the request, "Small coffee, black please." Her attention flits back to the singer often as she waits for the order to come up.

Back to the brighter major tonic, that rolling pattern continuing-an obvious bit of word-painting, with the constant fast flow of notes imitating the river's current, carrying the song forward. There's a flicker of disturbance in the singer's expression, a note of wistful worry that's almost instantly gone.

    "When I'm beguiled by the fear
    That darker days are drawing near

Maya's gaze goes to the doors for a moment, and her smile blossoms, suddenly. She might have just focused there out of reflex, but it ends up looking like the lines, and the love behind them, are meant for the rainbow-haired girl coming in:

    "--My darling, you seduce the sun
    Rivers flow and rivers run."

Mack gets her coffee, exchanges exact change in ... actual change, and then moves closer toward the singer, finding an empty seat there and settling in. The brighter smile and attention on the door turns the young woman's attention in the same direction, and at that she narrows her brows into even tighter lines.

Skylar stops in the doorway, checking the audience and then focusing on the singer. Color rises in her cheeks, and she ducks her gaze, heading toward the counter.

Maya's back to the room almost immediately, her smile softer, hope and something wistful in her eyes. The chorus starts low, dipping into the richness of the singer's chest voice, building around the relative minor without really modulating.

    "And if the river should ever run dry,
    somewhere the rain will still fall,
    will still fall from the sky."

Now that she's gotten herself closer to the performer, Mack draws in a breath and closes her eyes. Her coffee cup held just at chin level gives the impression of one taking a delighted draw of the bittersweet aroma, but her focus on the task goes far beyond that.

Skylar continues toward the counter where she places an order, digging a couple crumpled bills out of her pocket. A smile settles into place as she watches the singer, and she bounces on the balls of her feet as she waits.

The guitar's pattern doesn't change completely, but becomes more delicate--keeping to the higher strings, softening. A shadow of pain comes to the singer's expression, but it is the pain of beauty seen through tears, or eyes crying from the brightness of the sunlight.

    "This wounded earth we walk upon
    She will endure when we are gone
    I hope our children may come to know
    How rivers run and rivers flow."

Mack now splits her attention between the singer and the girl at the counter. A hand reaches up to tug that knit beanie a little lower, and she brings the coffee up for a first tentative sip.

The girl with the rainbow hair takes hold of her paper cup and skirts around the outside of the room, looking for an open table near the back.

The next verse rises in volume and energy, something to match the commitment of the words.

    "I cross my heart and I hope to live
    Just long enough that I can give
    all that I have to earth and sun
    Rivers flow and rivers run...
    Rivers flow and rivers run."

The last word's held out a while, and the accompaniment flows into a single chord, which the guitarist allow to die naturally.

There are a few scattered claps and murmurs of appreciation, and Maya leans into the mike to offer, "Thanks. That was Karine Polwart, great Scottish singer and songwriter."

Mack chews on the corner of her lip for a moment, caught in a personal debate as the clapping ends. In the end, she ends up frowning more deeply and gripping her cup a bit more firmly. One of the patrons seated near her has noticed her fidgeting and hurries to collect her cup and purse and move to a different table. Mack though, keeps her eyes on the performer now.

Skylar finds a table out of the way. With Maya singing, the people at the next table barely give her a glance. She scoots the chair over to where she can see the singer, and wraps both hands around the cup for warmth.

Maya adds, "This next one is mine--"

Someone at one of the closest tables sits forward in sudden interest, and the singer adds, ruefully, "Be forgiving, okay?"

She launches into something with a different mood: contemplative, drifting ambiguously between minor and major. It begins as a ballad: a storm, crops ruined. A son talking to his grandfather about the land. The grandfather remembers days before all these storms, days before blight--and in the refrain, he tells his son that it's the voice of the earth, crying out. The voice of a planet abused and used, the cry of extinct animals and polluted rivers. That change and healing will come, but "only if we stop to listen..."

Mack looks toward Maya with a tilt of her head at this last song, and then, as it ends, offers up some applause. "You're really good. Mind some company up there?"

Maya blinks, startled for a moment--and then leans into the mike to say, "Back in a few." The guitar's set on its stand, and then she comes to Mack's table, curiosity in her eyes as she sits down. "There's open mike tomorrow," she says. "And I'm looking for people, in general... what do you play?"

Skylar leans a bit further in her seat to watch as the singer comes to an end of the song and takes an interest at the other woman.

Mack offers a little smile, "Guitar. Not as good as you with the vocals, but I do a bit of singing with it. This your place?" she asks then. That hat gets tugged lower again, though it's accompanied by a little shiver and a return of hands to coffee cup to sell it as being cold.

Maya laughs a little. "Oh, no. I'm just a guest. They like having a lot of music on the weekends, I think someone else is starting at six or so. But if you come tomorrow and they think you're a good fit, you can probably get a slot during the week. I know there are nights open."

Skylar settles back into her seat, but now that the music has stopped, her neighbor is quick to gather up her things and head for the door. Skylar glances after her and then looks down into her cup.

"Yeah, worth a shot I suppose. Better money, not to mention warmer, than playing outside for tips. Self taught, or?" Mack asks with genuine curiosity.

Maya hitches a shoulder, glancing down. "Partly. I mean, I went to school, but grad school didn't work out. The whole conservatory thing wasn't for me." She studies the woman, then. "You?"

Skylar sips from the cup again, and then rises from her seat. She watches the singer and her companion, but doesn't approach.

"Self taught. Just messed around a bunch with things. Youtube can almost be like home-schooling for musicians these days. But I don't get a lot of screen time on the 'net so it's hit or miss." Mack glances toward the door, "I got my guitar in the truck. If we had any overlap on songs, could give it a go playing duet style."

Maya's smile widens a little, a touch of embarrassment there. She's completely artless, and possibly even a little awkward. "Look, um, let me get a drink and finish out my last set? Can you hang out another, Idunno, twenty minutes?"

Skylar backs up toward the windows, drinking from her cup. It seems to be about empty, and she turns to find the trash can.

Mack gives a nod, "Yeah, trust me I got nowhere else to be." That seems about as openly honest as one can be, and she settles back with her coffee to let the woman finish up her set. With first contact made with the performer, the beanie wearing girl glances back toward the other familiar person in the establishment.

Maya flashes the woman a quick grin, and returns to the--well, it's not really a stage, just a little corner that's been cleared, with enough room for a chair, the small amp, and the mike.

She checks the tuning of the instrument, first, head bowed over the strings. Then she flips the microphone on and leans forward. "Here's another water song," she says, letting the mike catch her voice just a little and then settling back to begin something fast and flowing, a three-pitch ostinato against a non-triple meter, creating a two-against-three illusion similar to the river song. When she sings, her gaze is distant, yearning, focused somewhere far beyond the walls.

    "Neptune, I think I'm in love with the sea...
    How do I woo you, and make you love me?

The melody seems built of upward-leaning intervals, for those two lines--and then the limits are broken, with each line coming to a higher peak:

    "I'm drenched by your passion
    Enthralled by your anger
    Becalmed by your beauty--"

Abruptly, the melody drops to the low end of the singer's range, the effect one of turning inward, or maybe a low-spoken prayer:

    "How do I make you love me...?"

Maya finishes the Neptune ballad, and opts for a love song after it. Between pieces she announces songwriters; the ratio is about even, half of them covers, and half originals. She ends with an upbeat song by someone no one in the room would have heard of--something about finding strength in the bonds with others around you, friendship and love and the energy that comes when people work together.

Skylar shifts her weight from side to side, uncomfortable where she is, but unwilling to move. She listens, head slightly bowed, and watches the singer through the braids that fall before her face.

Mack is about half way down with her cup now, but that doesn't stop her from holding tight to it and waiting out the rest of the performances. Her eyes shift between the singer, and the rainbow haired girl, watching how they react to each other.

There's something in the way Maya's attention lingers on the bright-haired girl in the back--especially when she sings the slow, tender "Come Away With Me" in the middle of the set. Skylar isn't the only one she looks at; she's a decent enough performer to take in everyone in the little cafe. Still, there's a light in her eyes, something tender about her expression. Subtle, but unmistakable. Even when she "signs off," there's an involuntary glance to the back.

For her part, the rainbow haired girl is clearly here because of the woman singing rather than the coffee. She's entranced by the singer, but uncomfortable in the cafe.

Mack looks back and forth once more, then raises an amused brow and lets slip a little, "Huh." The last sip of coffee goes down with a slurp more audible than she'd have preffered and the woman stares at her empty cup with a sigh. The singer's done though, so she waits at the table as asked.

Maya glances at the time--and as before, takes a minute after packing up her guitar, as if she needs some silent space to clear the performance and its energy before returning to the world. Then she props the guitar case in a corner, makes sure the mike is off, and heads to the counter to order something. Moments later, she comes to Mack's table with a steaming cup of something, stirring it gently, spoon rattling against heavy diner porcelain.

Not long after the music stops, Skylar's fidgeting near the back starts to draw the attention of those nearby. She looks around, from one patron to the next, gaze eventually sliding toward the singer and Mack. She hesitates a moment longer and then returns to the counter. Her order, this time, is smaller, and she pays for it mostly with coins she digs out from her pack.

Mack looks up at the other and scoots her chair over to be more inviting. "Lots of mellow feel good stuff huh?" The woman chuckles at this, "Admittedly, my stuff tends more toward the angry, dirty blues, or rock."

Maya flushes a little, and looks down at her drink--not sure what to do with that, socially. "I like bluesy stuff," she says quietly. A sipof tea seems to bolster her confidence, and she looks across to the woman, focusing on her more intently. "And I figure the world's got plenty of anger, most of the time. Anger tends to push people away, and..." She gives a small shake of her head, lowering her eyes; this time it's about thought, rather than any awkwardness or discomfort. "Most of the things I'm angry about aren't things I want to make music out of, anyway."

"Yeah. Maybe. But you can't just snap your fingers and will anger away. And I figure playing it out of your system is better than most alternatives." She glances over toward Skylar then, "You gonna invite your friend over, or what?"

Skylar blows across the surface of the liquid and then sips from the cup. She leans against the counter for a moment, indecisive. Her gaze travels about the room, lingering briefly on the pair before darting away again.

Maya's brow furrows, as she glances over to Skylar; there's a flicker of something, alarm maybe, and she gives a small shake of her head. "I, um, figured we were-- I mean, if we're talking shop..." She takes a breath to settle her nerves, and drinks some more tea.

Mack lifts a shoulder, "Well it's just music talk. Not like we're moving drugs or guns." She grins a bit sarcastically at this, "And if we were, I doubt we'd be having that discussion here in the middle of the day. So open mic is just show up, sign in, and play then?"

Maya gives a swift, relieved smile, and nods. "Yeah. You should definitely come. It's almost... like a studio class, 'cause lots of people are musicians, so the crowd's real supportive..."

There's something about that sarcastic grin of Mack's that strikes familiar to Skylar; she's seen it before, and pretty recently.

Skylar takes another sip from her cup and then heads toward the door.

The girl speaking with Maya is all attention on her right now, and at the mention of other musicians, a little wave of uncertainty hits her. "Ugh. That's worse for me sometimes. Guitar's fine, but no one wants to listen to just a guitar - and the singing is what really wigs me out." Her eyes drift toward the other girl again, "Seriously. You two got a thing you were meeting up for, I can scram." A pause, "Or ya know talk to you both."

Maya seems like she's about to say something, after that "no one wants to listen" bit--but then she's effectively silenced by the rest. "No, um, not at all. You know, if your playing is really good, there's places that just want instrumentalists, I bet? I mean, high end stuff where they want classical or blues or jazz..."

Skylar gives one last glance over her shoulder and then slips out into the cold.

Mack mmms, nodding. "Yeah. I should just learn to get over it. Own worst critic, I bet." As the other leaves, she glances back and then shrugs. "So hey. That asshole from the other night, have you run into him again?"

The singer's brow furrows, her expression turning doubtful. She temporizes with a sort of drawn-out "ahhh..." and then lifts a shoulder. "He came by that place, when I played on Friday?" She's quick to add, "But, I mean, he was just there. He didn't do anything."

"You know him? Or just your friend knows him?" Mack frowns at this, "Because he's a real d-bag if you ask me."

Maya shakes her head quickly. "No. I guess she knows him from somewhere, but I never saw him before... last week." She's uncomortable with this line of questioning, clearly; she keeps her eyes down, and blows on the surface of her tea before drinking.

Mack nods. "I'd steer clear of him. Gives me a bad feeling that one." She draws in a breath and then adjust her cap a bit. "So you from around here then? Like born and raised?"

That splotchy color comes back. It's not a cute, picture-perfect blush; it's that thing that makes people resort to medication. She gives another little shake of her head and answers, "West Coast."

"Geezus you're a fish out of water here. Like, California west coast, or Pacific northwest? Either way, makes more sense now what with your usual song choices. This place has to be about as dismal as it can get for you, right?" Mack grins at this, head shaking with some disbelief.

Maya hitches her shoulder again, this time more uncomfortably. She's very, very occupied with her tea. "Yeah, it sucks a bit," she murmurs, a reluctant confession.
Mack frowns a bit at the other, "There something bugging you? Did I wear out my welcome with that question?"

Maya chews on her lower lip, and shakes her head, open apology in her expression. "It's okay," she answers. "D'you have a card? I mean, even if we're not interested in the same music, I can keep an eye out, see if I hear about anything, you know?"

Mack nuh-uhs at that, "No card. I'm not that profressional. Wouldn't mind getting some proper stage time but, well, starting from the bottom and all." She looks at the other again, looking about to say something before she just lets her lips fall shut. "Anyway. I should probably let you go."

Mack nuh-uhs at that, "No card. I'm not that profressional. Wouldn't mind getting some proper stage time but, well, starting from the bottom and all." She looks at the other again, looking about to say something before she just lets her lips fall shut. "Anyway. I should probably let you go."

Maya drinks down some more tea, watching her. For a moment, she looks like she's trying to puzzle out what went wrong; then she gives a small shake of her head, and sets the drink down to dig into a pocket. "Let me give you my number? It's fine if you don't want--" Fumbling, she shakes her head again, frowning a little at her own ineptitude, her eyes still down. "Just, if you need anything," she says, handing it across. She only looks up then, meeting the woman's gaze.

Mack reaches a hand out to take the paper, nodding. "Thanks. I appreciate the kindness. Oh." She pauses then, chuckling, "If you're gonna get me, maybe, with a foot in the door somewhere, you should probably know my name. Mackenzie Harper. Mostly just go by Mack."

Mack's laughter coaxes a smile from Maya, and eases her social discomfort--whatever it was about. She gives a little nod, and offers, "Maya Novak. It's great to meet you."

Mack returns the smile, "Same. I'll see ya around then. Especially if you end up back here this week. Thanks."

Maya pages: Maya's card just has her name, and then "yoga - meditation - music" and then a number below that.

Maya pages: Local area code.

Maya nods, and gets up to return her empty mug to the counter. She collects something from one of the employees, and then goes up to get her guitar and clear the tip jar. She's a while getting ready to go, but eventually gets re-bundled (that coat is three sizes too big and must have come from a secondhand place) and heads out.