hopping on the cameron winter bandwagon
For the last little (longer than little) while, I've been hearing about Geese and Cameron Winter nonstop. It all started with seeing a story from Rayne Fisher-Quann shouting out Taxes by Geese way back when it first came out. I added it to my monthly playlist, listened to it once or twice, and moved on. Almost a year later now, something wonderful has happened.
This rendition of Cameron Winter's $0 appeared on my YouTube recommended. It's a live version of the song performed on a church pipe organ. This was the first time I had ever heard the song, and I can honest to God say that this is the first time that purely listening to a piece of music has brought me to tears. At least listening to a piece for the first time, devoid of any sentimental attachment.
On the first listen, I didn't register any of the lyrics properly at all, only the sound of his voice. It's a really unique tone that he has, a really consistent vibrato and a little fleck each time he shifts notes. The organ always trails behind the voice or skips a little ahead, never fully in line.
To me, it sounded like those moments you have, say when you walk by the house your childhood friend no longer lives in, or when you find an old anniversary card while sifting through your old room. There's a heaviness in the fingertips as you hold the card. There's an act that feels akin to a funeral procession when you keep on walking, when you shove the card back to the bottom of the shoebox.
When you walk away, when you let it go, the weight doesn't quite shake off right away, but you send it off in little ways every day. You fill your time with new friends, you find new containers to store your love in, big and small. Soon enough, the zero dollar statement feels less real and more like a mantra you convince yourself of.
Then it culminates, and the light comes back. God is real. It's a cyclical thing, really. There's been a lot of these waves for me, where for a period I doubt nearly everything that I have set myself up with in life. Just in time usually, and in true Canadian fashion when summer comes around, I see the light: friends, family, my own creative devices and the ones that I share with others.
The revelation section feels a little like the same actions that the despair feels like. Your friend isn't there anymore, but how lucky were you to be able to spend so many years together? Your shoebox haunts you yet, but how lucky were you to have someone put the care into creating something just for your own eyes?
This rendition of $0 sent me on an emotional rollercoaster, if you can't tell. Perfection!