Meanwhile, the donation total keeps soaring as Phillips sings, passing $3,000 and still climbing quickly. (By the end of the night, the total reaches more than $6,200 from small donations from more than 220 people, the most yet for one of his Zoom events. Donations are also accepted during the playbacks available on Phillips’ Facebook page at www.facebook.com/ GlenPhillipsMusic. The total had just hit $7,000 even as this article went to press.) “Why can’t musicians run the country?” asks a fan in the chat, then another admits “My soul needs this tonight.” Other comments quickly follow, taking note of a subtle change in Phillips’ typically upbeat demeanor: “I appreciate that you are somber tonight” and “(You’re) a calm, beautiful voice in a sea of insanity.” Phillips pauses to offer an intro to the next song: “Don’t Need Anything” also from Winter Pays for Summer. “It’s funny, because it’s supposed to be how I don’t have much but I don’t need much,” he tells the viewers watching on Facebook Live. “And I realized as I was looking through the lyrics how privileged the things are that I take for granted. In times like this, it’s good to remind those of us who are privileged just how privileged we are.” I’m reminded of our talk six hours earlier when Phillips told me he has yet to write a song in response to the pandemic, let alone one about the current “Black Lives Matter” protests all across America, and he’s aching.
This era of bullying and intolerance at the highest level, normalizing cruelty and insulting others, I don’t know how to respond to that in a song. I’m having to remind myself to respond in ways that are less political, and more universal, and then still ask myself the question if that’s too privileged a stance.
“I’m still digesting. I go fallow for long periods of time where I just need to be with me and figure out what’s not reactive. There is so much to think about right now, and write about, and it keeps changing. The pandemic is such a huge impact. And this era of bullying and intolerance at the highest level, giving us cues of how we are supposed to be acting in the world, normalizing cruelty and insulting others. I don’t know how to respond to that in a song. Throw on institutionalized racism and it’s a big sandwich. I’m having to remind myself to respond in ways that are less political, and more universal, and then still ask myself the question if that’s too privileged a stance.” The song starts, the notes on his acoustic guitar quieter than ever, the words coming out almost as a prayer: “I’ve got gardens growing, got quiet days / Clothes on my back, food on my plate / Got friends to help me if I call for them / I don’t need anything that I don’t have … / I’ve got eyes to see this beautiful land / And feet to take me where I want to stand / If there’s work to be done there’s these two strong hands / I don’t need anything that I don’t have.” The comments start flowing in the chat box almost immediately again. “This is my go-to attitude-check song,” one listener offers, seeming to affirm Phillips’ choice. Another notes, “Glen, you look so sad,” which someone else follows with perhaps some healing advice: “Glen, feel proud of this great community that you’ve created.” Next up is “Come Come Whoever You Are,” which was adapted from a poem by the Sufi mystic Rumi, which Phillips learned from a fellow song leader of a community choir – another of the non-commercial endeavors that has been soothing his soul. It’s the song that brought such a lump to my throat the first time I heard it that I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth without choking. “Come come whoever you are, wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving,” Phillips sings, his eyes gently shut. “Come come whoever you are, this isn’t a caravan of despair.” The chat buzzes immediately. 4 – 11 June 2020
Glen Phillips trying to heal us and him through song
“I’m thankful for you, Glen,” writes Leslie Conner. “You are a light.” “Thank you for singing to us in isolation,” adds Lisa Bartels. “I just want to keep hitting the heart button,” a third fan gushes. Phillips smiles and switches gears. “I should probably play something fun now. And maybe keep playing until we get to $5K for the NAACP?” “Make it $10,000,” a chatter suggests. Phillips plays “Rare Bird” from the 2013 Toad album New Constellations, and follows that with a version of Talk Talk’s “Life’s What You Make It,” ending with a wry smile. “It felt a little better when I was playing it earlier,” he admits, looking at the chat, then brightens when he sees that the donation total had topped $5,000. “Thank you for your kindness, your goodness,” he says, looking directly into the camera. “We need lots of that right now, lots of understanding, and stretching your boundaries.” He seems to get a jolt of energy when he arrives on the next song to share, “Love Is Stronger Than Death” by The The. “In our lives we hunger for those we cannot touch / All the thoughts unuttered & all the feelings unexpressed / Play upon our hearts like the mist upon our breath / But, awoken by grief, our spirits speak… / Here come the blue skies, here comes springtime / When the rivers run high & the tears run dry / When everything that dies shall rise… / Love Love Love is stronger than death.” Phillips then sees a request, in all caps, for the Toad song “Windmills.” But, he says, “All caps remind me of someone I don’t like to think of right now.” He chuckles. A Cat Stevens request also goes unanswered. “Yeah, there are so many songs I need to learn.” Quickly though, he arrives at a fave by the female duo MaMuse that seems to sum up the sense of sadness, hope, and community. “We shall be known by the company we keep / By the ones who circle round to tend these fires / We shall be known by the ones who sow and reap / The seeds of change, alive from deep within the earth / It is time now, it is time now that we thrive / It is time we lead ourselves into the well / It is time now, and what a time to be alive / In this Great Turning we shall learn to lead in love.” Phillips sings the tune a cappella, harmonizing to his own tracked vocal using a looper the second time through – a digital tool he’s also been employing in the online version of his community choir – and it’s so evocative that shivers are sent down my spine. The concert has come to a close, and, it turns out, it’s the last one for this week, as Phillips announced at the beginning that he’s going dark on Wednesday (which is usually dedicated to having a single guest share the Zoom space, which Phillips calls “Song Pong,” or has visits from his now backat-home daughter, Freya). The chat has been filled all hour long with messages of understanding but also admissions that they’ll miss the music and Phillips’ presence in their homes as people continue to shelter in place. “It’s been a lot of fun to sing so much, and to feel like it’s doing something for people, to have some purpose,” he told me. “It’s been incredibly hard on the country and a lot of people, and my experience has been much easier. So I’m grateful that this idea is both doing good for other people and - because people are so generous with the separate donation area for me on Venmo -- that I’m miraculously able to pay my rent too.” Back on Facebook, the comments are also coming to a close. “Thank you for the peace amid the chaos tonight”, ““Hearing your voice always makes me feel better”, and “Thank you, Glen. You are a gift.” •MJ
• THE VOICE OF THE VILLAGE •
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