Ceremonies, Rituals, Songwriter Quirks and Weirdness…

When I hear the word ‘ceremony’ I immediately have the chorus of an 80’s band float through my head; well, not float as such as it’s by a rock band but that’s another story.

But, when I stop to notice the world and its simple pleasures, I realise there’s more ceremony and tradition around me every day than I had thought. From the older Italian gentleman that religiously walks past my home each day with a walking stick he clearly doesn’t need, to my neighbour returning with lattes on a Sunday morning as their weekly treat.

When I think about my ceremony and traditions, there are many especially at this time of year, but I also find myself scanning days gone by in reflection of the celebrations and commiserations, and the ceremony and love that each was wrapped in; the birthdays and weddings, the welcoming of new friends and family, and the sad farewells too.

I think of all the times I laughed until my sides ached, danced like a frog in a blender (and didn’t care what I looked like), and all the times that I felt so much love for my family that I could do nothing to hold back a sneaky tear (or ten!). I think of all the moments dancing with my niece and teaching her about the big wide world that’s waiting for her own mark of beauty, and also my habits of a lifetime that have become traditions of their own.

I also find myself wondering about the lives of others and their feelings and thoughts on the ceremonies they’ve shared. I’m intrigued about their thought processes and wonder if we are truly all that different?

With all this reflection of ceremony and tradition, only one album truly fitted the theme for me this month; a joyous little album by Roz Pappalardo & The Wayward Gentlemen – This Lifeboat.

The album is filled with emotion and introspection of which I admit to being a great fan; so on my quest for the meaning of ceremony in others lives, I spoke with Roz during my (seemingly traditional) navel gazing activities, and asked her about her ceremony and traditions, and particularly the ceremony of writing and producing an extension of her personal life and thoughts for the entire world to hear.

Roz bravely and generously bared her soul in its creation, explaining “This Lifeboat was a real journey for me – a lot of first times, lots of happiness and a fair amount of fear went into the creation of the music on that hard plastic disc.  It was written amidst an array of unusual ceremony in my life – from the untimely death of a cousin who lived in Italy whom I had only just met, to a ritualistic morning breakfast at a family owned diner in the heart of Austin, Texas, for a month long duration of a Women in Docs tour; to sitting on my office floor at 4 in the morning with an idea for a song and singing really, really quietly so as not to disturb the rest of my house for fear that I’d lose the idea if I stayed in bed.”

“I wanted the album to be an introspective look at my innermost musings, but wrapped in a joyous celebration of powerful instrumentation, so that the audience weren’t left wanting to slit their wrists, but encouraged to look at something inside themselves and more importantly something inside those around them.  Ceremony, rituals, songwriter quirks, my weirdness. All laid out bare.”

I’ve always been a huge fan of Roz’s which includes her music with the highly successful “Women in Docs”; this album however is more personal, more emotive, but is again filled with her gorgeous clear vocals that I just can’t stop singing along with. I find myself singing my heart out at a volume that I’m sure my musically talented neighbours don’t appreciate, but I just can’t help it! (And I don’t really care).

In her song ‘Playground’ I picture myself in her song, sitting on that swing in the park appreciating the beauty of the world she sees inside and outside of herself. I feel content, carefree and peaceful. I want to soak up the world with the same excitement and enthusiasm as my 3-year old niece and sing just for the pure joy of it, and likely just to hear my own voice – unbridled.

You’ve probably noticed by now that my musical tradition is to allow songs to touch my heart; to find some common thread in the music to my own life, to challenge my beliefs and let its meaning fill my soul. I get caught up in the words and the visuals that are painted in my mind, and this album is no different – it’s simply stunning!

I am reminded again as I listen to This Lifeboat that that there can be joy in the journey to knowing; whether that be of ourselves or those around us.

In her song ‘Fall’ Roz asks “what are you made of, what are you afraid of?”… I know there’s a list for both parts of that question, and maybe I’m just too lazy to look, but for now I’d rather think about the precious moments that collectively make up the ceremony and the traditions that I enjoy so much at this time of year.

The older I grow, the more appreciative I am of the ceremonies and traditions that I can rely upon and look forward to. This year I’ll be again sharing memories and stories with my Mum at her kitchen table as we roll chocolate ‘Kilkenny Cream’ truffles for hours until I can roll no more; to come home fed up with them and leave the rest of the mix in the bowl for an indulgent snack – I’m going to be wearing elastic waisted pants come Boxing Day after all so I may as well make the most of it!

From my family and I, we wish you and yours a celebration of love, and good times and filled with music that touches your heart and soul.

My sincere thanks to Karen and all the gorgeous contributors that have supported and encouraged me during my time in this Space; it means more to me than you realise.

Find more about Ros and listen to samples of her songs by clicking here.

Photo credit for topmost image of Ros: Jo Bell (BrisPop.com)